Protecting Melissa (Holiday Cove 4)

“Shit!” I gasped, realizing what it was.

A GPS tracking device. In the bottom of my freaking purse!

26

Chase

“Chase! Chase!” Melissa’s voice cut into my sleepy, sun-soaked mind.

I bolted upright from lounging back in my deck chair at Melissa’s frantic call and spun around to find her running out onto the deck. “What’s wrong?”

She raced over to my chair and thrust a large, black leather purse into my hands. “There’s another one of those tracker things! That’s how he found us! It’s in my purse!”

“Who found us?” Jackson asked, racing over to see what all the commotion was about.

Melissa’s face went white, realizing how loud she’d been.

“Nothing, buddy. Can you give your mom and me a minute?”

Jackson pursed his lips at my stern expression, but he took the hint and ran back to where he’d been hanging over the side of the boat, using a pair of dinky plastic binoculars to scan the water for any signs of whales.

“Okay, stay calm. Take a deep breath for me,” I said, holding her stare until she sucked in a shaky breath. When she nodded, indicating she was okay, I dropped my eyes to the purse.

“That mother fucker sewed it right into the lining,” she hissed, keeping her voice low.

Damn. That was some messed up shit. I dug into the bottom of the purse, struggling to see inside the dark interior. I traced a finger along the bottom and my finger hit a small, dime sized object.

Shit. It was just like the one I’d found inside the bag that had all the cash.

“Hold on,” I told her, standing from my chair. I went to the bridge and grabbed a pocket knife and a flashlight from one of the drawers under the consul. I took everything back to Melissa and handed her the flashlight. “Here, hold this up so I can see.”

She did as I asked but I could see it was almost physically painful for her to watch me cut into her expensive designer purse. It wasn’t a feeling I could relate to, but she was upset about it. Even if in my eyes, it was just like any other bag.

I got the device free, with a neat square of fabric around it from the lining and held it up. “Son of a bitch.”

“You can say that again,” Melissa said through gritted teeth. She clicked off her flashlight.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Melissa. I should have caught this sooner. I wasn’t—I mean—tracking money was one thing, it’s a given, but a purse?”

She nodded slowly, still processing everything that had happened. “Well at least we know how he found us.”

“Yeah.” I clutched my fingers around the device, wishing there was a way to melt it with the sheer force of my hatred and anger. He’d been tracking her like a damn animal the entire time. Maybe for months—years even!

I glanced up at her. “Melissa, how many purses do you own? Back at your home I mean.”

She sighed. “I know! I know. It’s a stupid habit, but I didn’t have anything else to do but shop for years there.”

“No, you’re misunderstanding me. You don’t have to defend yourself. I was just thinking…” I trailed off; the idea almost too sick to voice. “I was thinking that maybe…this isn’t the only purse with a tracking device. If you have a closet full of purses at home, he wouldn’t have known which one you’d take to deliver the money. So, he put a tracker in that bag to make sure. I don’t think this tracker had anything to do with that plan.”

Melissa narrowed her eyes. “I don’t get it. What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that O’Keefe was tracking you, probably for a long time, and that if we were back in your closet right now, I’d be willing to put down some serious cash that every other purse and bag in there would be bugged as well.”

“No…” she shook her head, her face horror filled and pale. “That would be, I mean, that’s insane!”

I didn’t say anything. She knew O’Keefe fell smack-dab in the middle of the insane category just as well as I did. Probably more so, in fact.

“Holy crap,” she whimpered, flinging a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

I grabbed her and pulled her against me. My hand went to cradle the back of her head and I let my fingers get lost in the soft strands of her hair as they cascaded down her neck and shoulders. “It’s okay. We’re going to get rid of it and he’ll never find you again. He’ll never have that kind of power over you ever again. I won’t let him.”

She sagged into me and I clung to her even tighter.

“Did you bring any other purses with you?” I asked, letting her go once she stopped shaking.

“No. Just this one. What about Jackson though? He has his school backpack.”