Page 58 of Damaged Protector
Stunned. That’s the only emotion that filled my brain until realization hit me. Then it was replaced immediately by anger.
“Are you tracking me?” I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at the blue glow like it would give me some answers.
I heard my mother’s answer when I pressed the offending device back to the side of my face. “Of course I am. How else am I going to know what you’re up to? You’ve set all these… boundaries.” She spat that last word like it was a particularly offensive curse word.
“And do you want to know why I need to set boundaries, Mother? Just take a look at Exhibit A—you tracking my phone.” The poor driver looked at me through the rearview mirror, and I made it a point to control the volume of my voice. “I am twenty-four years old. Do you realize how crazy you sound?”
“You can’t talk to me like—”
“I’m throwing my damn phone out the window, Karen.” And I hung up.
Okay, that was a complete lie. I was pissed, not stupid. I didn’t want to have to buy another phone.
My shaking finger scrolled through the screens, looking for the offending app. Everything looked legit, and I realized I had no damn clue what I was searching for.
But I was pretty sure I knew someone who could help.
Chapter 17
Thirty Minutes Earlier
I stood in the corner of the club, shrouded in the shadows as I sucked an ice cube from the glass and chewed it, allowing the tiny shards to cool my tongue.
The cocktail waitress approached. “Hey, can I get you another,” she glanced at the glass in my hand and then back up at me, “water? Or something stronger?”
“Another water. I’m driving.” I handed her a ten-dollar bill and told her to keep the change, my eyes never wavering from the dance floor.
She returned a couple minutes later, took my empty, and handed me a fresh glass.
Mallori was dancing with the mousy girl, but an occasional glance at the table where she’d been sitting confirmed that the douchey guy was still staring at her. He’d been staring at her all fucking night.
What the fuck has gotten into you, Hawk? Following your roommate to a club like some kind of stalker?
I justified it by telling myself I was like a big brother looking out for his little sister. The only problem? The thoughts I was having about Mallori’s body as she dipped and moved her hips was not very fucking brotherly.
She was wearing black denim shorts and a white crop top that showed a couple inches of belly and back skin. She was as natural dancing in a club as she was in front of the mirrors in the workout room. She had an innate rhythm that made every bump and grind look graceful.
I noticed the other eyes on her too. Men in groups who were whispering to each other, their eyes following her movements, probably trying to get up the nerve to go talk to her. Pussies.
Like you’re any better, asshole. Hiding in the corner like a goddamn creep.
My sharp gaze tracked her back to the table, and Scott Ponder—I knew exactly who he was from the background check Cam and I had run—made room for her to sit. Because of course the little prick did.
Scott Ponder, only child of federal judge Harrison Ponder, had been trouble as a teenager. He had seven—yes, seven—tickets for minor in possession of alcohol between the ages of fourteen and seventeen. Exactly zero of them showed up on his record, no doubt because daddy dearest had handled it.
Well, the tickets didn’t show up on his official record, the one the school would have had access to during a routine background check, but we found them. It’s what we do.
The rest of the party had checked out fine. That Megan chick had never even had so much as a parking ticket.
I stewed watching Ponder put his arm around Mallori. Her face told me she wasn’t happy about it, and I had just straightened, about to stupidly break my cover, when she shrugged away and stood. Relief blew from my lips in a long stream of air.
Mal seemed perfectly capable of handling herself. Twice I’d watched when she had slyly dumped two shots of whatever liquor they were ordering into the potted plant beside her when no one was looking.
She was out for a night of fun, but she wasn’t trying to get sloshed, and that made me happy. I wasn’t sure why I even cared. I’d only known Little Bee for two weeks.
Then what the hell are you doing here, Hawk?
Fuck if I know.