Page 25 of Black Widow
James’s head snapped to the window, his eyes landed on a splintered circle.
That shot had been aimed at him. And the shooter was close enough to see him—at least through a rifle scope.
“James!” Deacon screamed, running into the room.
He looked to James, his eyes frantic. His gaze swept over the room, landing on the window. His jaw dropped open.
“That shot was taken from within the boundary,” James said. His gut instinct was to run to the garage and chase Lisa down but that was exactly what she wanted him to do.
James pulled the curtains shut. They were safe inside this house, so James didn’t rush them to a panic room but he didn’t enjoy being watched by his enemy.
“How did she find us?” Deacon asked, looking to him.
“Jenna might have a tracking device that can’t be detected—similar to the ones we have,” he said. “Or, Lisa could’ve followed us from Union Square. She was there, I know she was.”
Deacon shook his head. “We didn’t have a tail, I’m sure of it. Jenna must have a tracking chip.”
James agreed. His mind was reeling, frantically trying to sort out the missing pieces of Fred’s death. He stilled. She had left a clue, and it had been there the entire time. His blood ran cold.
He strode toward the kitchen. “Ready the cars, we’re going back to the city,” James said to his brother.
Jenna’s eyes darted between the brothers but she said nothing.
James pulled out his phone and messaged Samuel.
James: We’re going to Grand Central. Take out the power and bring the trains to a halt. I need a fifteen-minute window. Please send me Lisa’s number.
His phone beeped.
Samuel: We need to hack the system first. We’re all working on it. Tell Deacon to drive slowly, I need time.
“Drive slow,” James said under his breath as Deacon walked beside him.
Lisa would know now that she couldn’t shoot him while he was inside the house, and she’d assume his car was bulletproof too. That would only leave one option: follow them and wait for the next opportunity.
James sent Samuel another message:I’ll need matching red cable and a black marker.
James would keep all correspondence via text now because he didn’t want Jenna getting wind of this plan. He needed her completely unaware of the hell that was about to unfold. And he needed Lisa completely aware, otherwise this wouldn’t work.
He sent Lisa a message, hoping she turned on her phone, or had another means to check her messages.
His eyes dropped to the navigation screen. He had forty-five minutes to come up with a plan B in the event that Lisa didn’t get his message.
His heel tapped on the floor as he brainstormed ideas, mentally tossing them out as fast as they were created. He needed proof, but that would be next to impossible—even for Samuel—at this short notice.
James thought of the crime scene they’d found at Fred’s apartment. There had been no struggle, no forced entry. He had let his killer in through the front door. All surveillance footage had been deleted for the time of his death. Even if he’d had access to it, though, he doubted it would be high-enough quality to show him what he wanted to see.
His mind continued churning over ideas as they drove toward the terminal. No one spoke a word the entire time.
Samuel: You’re not going to believe this. I found the flight details.
James loaded them onto his screen.
Now he had proof.
JENNA
Jenna’s eyes narrowed but she couldn’t see his phone from where she sat. James Thomas had not stopped messaging on that phone and her heart raced a little faster with every passing minute.