It hadn’t taken Sherlock long to get the information. Getting anything substantial on Lottie had taken more effort.
Once the file landed in his hands, Razor went through the full dossier on Shannon. Hours passed as he combed over every page. By the end of it, he sat back in stunned silence.
Sherlock had dug up more than Razor had expected. Shannon had spent time in psychiatric facilities on multiple occasions. One of the recurring notes referenced Obsessive Love Disorder—Limerence. Not an officially recognized clinical diagnosis, but a pattern obsessive enough to raise concern.
After looking into it further, Razor had to admit the description fit Shannon a little too well. The condition described an obsessive fixation on another person, often paired with the belief that the feelings were mutual, even when they weren’t.
Razor leaned back in his chair, uneasy as the pieces started clicking into place. Shannon had been fixated on him for the better part of a year.
He wanted to handle Shannon immediately, until common sense kicked in. If Shannon really was fixated on him, pushing too hard could easily make things worse. Obsession had a way of feeding on attention, even bad attention.
She already knew where he worked. Had even shown up at the clinic under the guise of an appointment. But outside of that, Shannon knew very little about him. His personal life remained private, and Razor intended to keep it that way.
Closing the folder, he looked up at Sherlock. “Thanks for this. I’ll try not to ask for anything else for a while.”
“Why did you need this info, Razor? Something we should know about?” Sherlock asked him.
Razor held his stare for a beat before answering, “She’s a client at the clinic. I wanted background before I got more involved in her care.” It wasn’t the full truth, but it was enough.
He hated lying, but he didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to his private life outside the chapter. Or the fact that he frequentedThe Red Dooras a Dom. Even though some of the brothers knew, it wasn’t something he wanted circulating through the brotherhood.
And he still hadn’t told any of them about the situation with Shannon. If he did, it meant opening his personal life up to questions he wasn’t ready to answer.
Going back to the folder, he flipped through the last pages and found her address, Villa Marie, not far from Old City. His finger traced down her work history. At present, she worked in a children’s boutique. Razor closed the folder. With a brief nod to Sherlock, he stood and walked out of the office.
Two hours later, Razor sat in his car watching Shannon put together a window display. Being seen watching a woman in public was the last thing he needed. It would take less than a second for someone to call the cops. What a cliché.
A woman watching a man was rarely questioned, but let a man watch a woman, and he was immediately labeled a stalker, a pervert, or something worse.
Glancing around, he noticed a few people casting looks his way as they passed. Spotting a restaurant with a bird’s-eye view of the boutique, he got out of the car and headed over.
He could grab a seat in the window and keep an eye on Shannon. Maybe he’d catch something—anything—that gave him better insight into her behavior.
The next time he was atThe Red Door, he’d make sure Jessie and Dimitri were aware of her and suggest they start running background checks on members before approving them.
“Table pour une?”
“Par la fenêtre, s’il te plait, ” Razor replied.
He followed the hostess toward the window seat and took a position with a clear view of the boutique across the street. From there, he had a perfect vantage point.
Vicious stepped out of the pub and immediately spotted Razor inside a nearby restaurant, sitting alone by the window.
Something about the last few days had felt off, and Vicious trusted that instinct enough to follow it. He crossed the street and went inside.
“Table pour une?” the hostess asked him.
“Non, je rencontre un ami,” he replied.
He walked past her without hesitation and headed straight for Razor. Dropping into the seat across from him, he caught the flicker of surprise on Razor’s face.
“It’s time to talk to me, Razor.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re watching someone.” Vicious glanced out the window toward the boutique across the street. “I recognize a stakeout when I see one.”
Razor let out a quiet chuckle. “This isn’t a stakeout. I’m watching someone who’s becoming problematic in my life.”
