Page 20 of Blake

She ate half of it anyway.

The open box sat on the coffee table in front of her as she curled into the corner of the couch with a glass of red wine. Willow was stretched along the back cushion behind her head, one fluffy paw resting against Devon’s shoulder.

The television mounted on the wall in front of her played quietly. Some reality show she wasn’t actually watching. She’d finally forced herself away from the computer shortly after eight.

The strange transactions were still there. So were her questions. She’d found enough to know there was definitely a pattern. Not enough to know what any of it meant, but that was a task she could face tomorrow.

Her phone buzzed beside her. Devon picked it up. Her heart gave a tiny flip when she saw Blake’s name. She opened the message and smiled wide.

He’d texted to let her know they’d finally hired an office manager.

Tempted to start what would no doubt be an hour-long conversation, at least, Devon chose to heart the text and send a funny gif of a baboon doing a celebratory dance.

When he texted back asking what she was doing, she lied and said she was heading to bed. Not because she didn’t want to talk to Blake, but because she did.

And that scared her more than she wanted to admit.

Blake: Sleep well, Dev.

Her fingers hovered over the screen.

Devon: You, too. And congrats again.

She set the phone on her thigh.

Willow shifted behind her. Devon reached up and scratched beneath the cat’s chin as her gaze returned to Blake’s last message. She wanted more than friendship with him.

There.

She’d finally admitted it. At least, to herself. But wanting something and being ready for it were two very different things.

Leaving her apartment still required a mental checklist. Unexpected noises outside her door still made her heart race. And Billy Crawford was still out there.

Until that changed, Devon wasn’t sure she could give Blake anything more than friendship.

Maybe someday.

Maybe someday she’d finally stop letting fear make her decisions.

CHAPTER THREE

Later that same night . . .

The tiny red light blinked once, then disappeared.

Blake remained perfectly still. Pressed against the cold-stone exterior of the massive three-story home, the steady rush of blood pounded through his ears. A light, late-night breeze rustled the trees surrounding the secluded property.

Emmett and Draven waited several yards behind him, using the thick landscaping along the house for cover.

“Camera three is down,” he whispered.

“Copy that.” Emmett’s deep voice sounded through the comm in Blake’s right ear. “Status on four?”

Blake glanced at the small tablet strapped to his left forearm. Lines of code moved across the screen as the program he’d written continued working its way through the property’s security network.

“Give me ten seconds.”

“You said that fifteen seconds ago.”