Page 99 of Unbalanced

I watch the last week. Nothing. No one came in but me. This is impossible. I run it through every program I have, and just as I’m about to give up, I notice a flicker. Not even a tenth of a second. I freeze the image and stare at the time code. It’s very clear…someone has tampered with my footage, and they are good, really fucking good.

“Fuck.”

The only way to tap into this closed feed is to be in my condo, in the secret room, and working on this laptop, unless…

I jog back to the small hidden room and slowly run the black Ethernet network cable through my hands. It’s a little warm. My suspicion amps up higher. I unlock the desk drawer, take out the bug detector, and go back to the cord. I turn the device on, check that it’s working properly, and then wave it close to the cord. It beeps aggressively, and I slow my hand.

It’s a spy cable.

My chest heaves and my fingers tighten around the cord, as a dark rage burns through me.

“So, you like to watch me…I will find you, whoever the fuck you are,” I whisper.

I need my other computer, the one I keep locked at work, to set up a tracking script. I’ll have to be ready to move as soon as it runs. Until then, I’ll let them think I haven’t found their little device.

My hand closes into a fist. When I find them, I’m going to rip their fucking heart out, then watch them burn.

I put the laptop back, close everything up like normal, and head out to the kitchen just as my cell starts to ring on the island. I almost bite Rochelle’s head off when I answer.

“What?”

“Whoa, what the heck has you in such a mood? You sound terrible,” she says.

I turn and head for the shower.

“You got all that from one word?”

“I know you,” she says, and I grip the phone tighter.

“How well?”

“Is this a trick question? You know that I handle your entire life, so I’m going to go with very well. Alden, you’re being really…weird.”

I say nothing as I step into the bathroom. My head is still spinning, and not just from the alcohol and whatever else was in it.

“Alden, I was only calling to see if you’re okay. You missed two appointments, and you haven’t answered any of my messages. That’s not like you. This was my last call before I reached out to the police for a wellness check.”

“I’m fine, just not a good morning. Cancel the rest of my day,” I order.

Rochelle doesn’t argue but is silent for a breath before speaking.

“Alden…I know you don’t want me to bring this up, but you’ve been acting off ever since Rob died and Emily came into your orbit. I know you say you’re fine. But maybe his death, and whatever obligation you feel to take care of Emily, is hitting you harder than you realize. Take a weekend off or something. Clear your head.”

My teeth grind, and Rochelle sighs when I don’t say anything.

“I’ll reschedule all the meetings and give your apologies that something came up.”

She ends the call without another word. That’s normal for her, but I deserve the coldness that accompanies it. There is no way any of this is Rochelle, but…I stare at the mirror in the bathroom…it’s someone who has known me for years.

Not just since I opened my practice, but before I ever left for Harvard. The problem…I can’t think of a single person who knew me well back then other than Rob, and he’s dead. I never brought friends home and especially not girls because my father was a sick fuck, and I didn’t want to take the chance he’d become interested.

So, who the fuck is it? And why are they coming after me now?

I slam my fist down on the marble, then strip and get into the shower. I don’t even care that it’s still running cold. My mind feels trapped between a wild rage and a desire so strong it chokes me.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t wipe last night from my mind. Not even the frigid water can stop my cock from standing and begging for more. I’m fucking losing it.

I grab my body wash, squeeze out the gel, and start scrubbing. Within seconds, my hand is on my shaft. It’s as if an aphrodisiac has been dripped right into my veins.