How (Stalker Series Book 3) by Megan Mitcham

Author:Megan Mitcham [Mitcham, Megan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-05T18:30:00+00:00

21

The Real Deal

“Are these assholes serious?” Slade bellowed from the kitchen. He held a letter in his hand. For a second at least. The next, he slammed it down into one of the three piles on the table in front of him. That letter had landed in the sexual deviant heap.

“Now do you see why I quit going through them?” Libby asked. They’d given her a hard time for not assessing each letter for a threat level.

“No. It helps to know what you’re dealing with.” Jake typed on his laptop, seemingly able to multitask without worry.

“You say that, but you’re not reading them.” Slade grabbed another envelope from the bag of mail. “I could give you one that’d make you spit and go hunting in a heartbeat.”

“Hunting?” Libby asked.

Slade winced, but Mr. Multitasker didn’t flinch while he clicked his mouse like a professional researcher.

“Probably best you don’t show him any.” Libby grabbed the mug of coffee from the coffee table they sat picnic style at on the floor in her living room. Jake had made the dark brew and eggs by the time she’d dressed in the clothes he’d brought her. He’d set the pile of clothes on the end of the bed and left without a word. It’d hurt until she found the bra and panties he’d chosen for her. Black. Lace.

Slade offered her a sideways salute.

“Look at these and tell me who besides Ross Quinn stands out.” Jake turned his screen toward her. He’d blacked out everything on it except a white sheet.

She squinted at the words in front of her, not because she couldn’t see them, but because she saw things she shouldn’t be looking at.

Ross Quinn Jr. 1540 Albany Circle Apartment D4 Jersey City, New Jersey.

Her boss’s name and address were followed by his phone number, his social security number, his driver’s license number, and his vehicle’s VIN number. After the numbers were the names of his known associates and his immediate family. Libby scrolled. There were names and information for ten or more individuals per sheet.

Alec Keith. Libby Irish. Joel Ornby.

The list went on and on.

Each of them worked in her office.

Libby’s gaze lifted to Jake’s.

“How do you have all this information?”

She waited for an answer. And waited some more. Jake stretched his legs out and leaned against her couch. Luckily, it backed to the wall. Otherwise, the light thing would have shot across the floor.

“It’s more guarded than most. I don’t even think I could access this information. Not even before,” she clarified.

“Who stands out?” He completely ignored her question.

Imagine that.

“Quinn, Ornby, MacInerny,” she offered and scrolled.

“Quinn is obvious. Ornby is the picture source. What’s up with MacInerny?”

“He’s Ornby’s lackey. He’s quiet and creepy as hell.”

Jake crossed his arms over his wide chest. He settled her with an amused look. “Quiet and creepy? I was both until yesterday.”

“You still are.” She grinned.

He grabbed a handwritten list she’d started working on before he’d pulled out the ten-digit code and retinal scan-encrypted laptop and crumpled it. The small note fit in the center of his big hand, and he launched it at her.

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