“No, this was my fault.”
The driver parked right in front, jumped out, and opened the door for us.
I gestured for Zola to go in first then ducked my head in. “Let me talk to Baptiste really quick, and then we’ll go.”
Her bottom lip quivered as she nodded. “Okay.”
I left the car, closed the door, and faced Baptiste. “She didn’t see him. I didn’t see him either.”
Baptiste frowned. “You’re too close to the client this time.”
“She’s not a client.”
“She is, when we’re guarding her.” Baptiste shrugged. “Maybe…you should have us switch. I watch her, and you go hunt.”
“No.”
Baptiste continued against his better logic. “I should be with her, while you check the perimeter and—”
“I stay with her.”
“I heard that you punched her boss in the face.”
“Trigger’s not her boss.”
“Well, he’s not the stalker, which would’ve been okay if you’d punched him. He was knocked out cold on the floor. While you were in the dressing area with Zola…talking…his boys and him left in an ambulance vehicle. I had Stark and Meridian follow them. All of Trigger’s entourage is accounted for.”
“Meridian is here?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t like him.”
“We needed heavy hitters.”
“Make sure you control Meridian.”
He nodded. “I’ve been told I’m the only one who can.”
“So, Trigger and his crew probably have nothing to do with this.” I scanned the crowd. “What about Zola’s people?”
“They were all there.”
“Then, it’s one of them. This shit is too personal, and the stalker happens to be where she is, every damn time. How would he know her schedule? How would have known about the hotel suite?”
“He could’ve followed.”
“I’ve been paying attention. No one’s been following us.”
Baptiste leaned his head to the side. “Are you sure you’ve been paying attention?”
I gazed up at the sky. Nature had mimicked reality. Vultures hovered up in the air as if searching for prey below. I turned my view to outside of the mansion’s gates. Hundreds had come out—onlookers and news. Ton of people had their phones out, recording everything and probably not knowing what the hell they were capturing.
Bird poop fell on my shoulder.
Baptiste smiled. “That’s good luck.”
“I’m close to shooting the birds and you right now.” Scowling, I took off my jacket.
“According to a Russian superstition, when bird poop lands on you or something that belongs to you, it will bring you wealth.”
“Then, let’s hope my good fortune connects to finding Zola’s stalker.”
“It will. You’ll just have to pay attention.”
“Find the mask or the motherfucker, and don’t worry about what I’ve been paying attention to.” I opened the door, slung the jacket on the floor, and climbed in.
The door shut behind me.
The car left.
I was annoyed that I’d taken my anger out on Baptiste, but someone had to get it. I turned to Zola. “I fucked that up.”
“You did not.”
“I was eating your pussy instead of making sure that guy didn’t attack you.”
She gave me a nervous smile. “I’m still alive, and my pussy is very happy.”
I stared at the paint stains on her neck. Rage consumed me. When I found this guy, I prayed no witnesses would be around. I needed to take my time with him.
Her hands shook. “I wish I really focused, when I saw him. But it was just like the other times. All I could focus on was the gun. It was black. I swore it was real. And then dark red paint sprayed, and I thought it was blood…”
“It’s okay.”
“All I could do was scream. I didn’t even fucking duck or jump to the ground at first.”
“It’s a natural reaction.”
“I need to be stronger.” She blew out a long breath and turned to me. “Can you teach me how to shoot a gun?”
“No.”
She blinked. “Why not?”
“Because I’m with you. If I’m next to you, then you should never need to reach for a gun.”
“You’re not going to be with me all the time.”
I wasn’t mad at her, even though I scowled her way. “I will.”
She leaned back in her chair. “What do you mean?”
“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, Zola.”
“What? You’re here for this stalker, I understand. But what about when you find him?”
“Let’s focus on me finding him first.”
He fucking shot red paint at her. How did I let this get so out of hand?
“Wait.” She rested her hands in her lap and kept closing and opening them. “But…what happens, once you find him?”
I hadn’t wanted to have this discussion yet. I was just realizing this in my head. In fact, the moment I had been racing toward the masked psycho.
Zola whispered next to me, “Hunter?”
“I’ll be here still.” I turned her way even though confidence didn’t rise and fall in my chest like it usually did. “I’ll be here regardless. I’m selling my house in Cali.”
“You’re moving to New York?”
“Yes.” I stared out of the window.
“When did you decide this?”
When he shot you with paint.