Page 200 of Red Marked

“I don’t like it.”

“I know you don’t.”

“If he slips up. If he says one word to the wrong person…”

“He won’t.” I sit on the end of the bed. “The male you’ve spoken about isn’t an idiot.”

She puts her cup down next to the pastry and rubs both hands over her face. When she drops them, her eyes are a little bloodshot, but she nods.

Thank fuck!

“Fine.” She stands up. “I’ll shower. Give me half an hour. I’ll direct you to his apartment, although he will probably be at work by now. We’ll have to wait until this evening.”

I take out my cell phone and do a quick read-through of the information Magma sent me.

“What is it?” she asks, frowning.

“Jett moved a little over two years ago. He is no longer at the same address.” I keep reading. “And you were right; he is no longer at Veridian. He works from home most days as a consultant. I have everything we need.”

She stares at the phone and then at me.

“You had Magma look into him before speaking to me?” Her frown deepens.

“I texted him last night before fetching the food. I only looked at what he sent me right now. Sorry, Star. I had a feeling we would have to go in that direction, and I wanted to be prepared. I didn’t want you thinking about it last night. I knew you were upset.”

“That’s a good explanation, but I’m still a little mad at you.”

“That’s fair. I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s fine.” She waves a hand. “You bought me dinner and let me cuddle with you. That must have been excruciating, and another first for you.”

“It was indeed.” I nod. I’m talking about it being a first, not so much about it being excruciating. The hard part was leaving when I badly wanted to stay.

She gets her clothes and walks into the bathroom. I hear the water start running.

I turn on the television and watch a show about people looking to buy a new house. It’s mind-numbing shit that fills the time.

It doesn’t take long before she walks out dressed and ready.

She’s in that pink dress, and it fucking kills me.

We go down the elevator, and it’s a quick drive to Jett’s house.

Star bites her nails the entire way there.

Jett’s street is wide and lined with trees. The houses sit back from the road behind stone walls. Every driveway has a decent car in it. The house in question is double-story, white, with a wraparound porch and a huge-ass lawn.

I pull up across the road and switch off the engine.

“Jett has done well for himself,” Star says, looking at the house through her sunglasses. “I’m not surprised. As I said, he was always ambitious.”

She reaches up, works her fingers under the edge of the blond wig, and pulls it off. She shakes her hair out and finger-combs it, then puts the wig on her lap.

“Ready?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“He might not be alone in there.” I watch the front door. “That female we saw at the ice cream store. She might be here. She might even answer the door. I doubt it, but you need to be prepared.”