“Jaimie Wilde,” Zach said slowly. “And she works for a real estate company in D.C.”
“Right.”
“I don’t suppose you have a photo of her…”
Caleb dug out his cellphone, turned it on, called up a screen of pictures.
“Here she is. My sister, Jaimie.”
Zach took the phone.
His pulse did an erratic little swing. It was her. The beautiful face. The blue eyes. A smile that would win an answering smile from any man who breathed.
J.W. The blonde who haunted his dreams. Who’d spent the night in his bed and disappeared before he’d had enough of her. Who’d played innocent even though it turned out she’d been cheating on her boyfriend.
On Steven Young.
“Zach?”
Caleb’s questioning voice called him back. He looked up, tried for a non-committal expression as he handed the phone over.
“Yeah. You know…” He tried for another smile even though he was pretty certain the first hadn’t worked. “You know, things aren’t always what they seem.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, I just, ah, I just wonder…is there—is there any chance you have the facts wrong? Is your sister, is she, maybe, involved with Young? Could this be, like, a lovers’ quarrel?”
Caleb Wilde’s mouth became a hard, determined line.
“This is not, like, a lovers’ quarrel. This has nothing to do with lovers, Castelianos. My sister is in trouble. She’s got a stalker. She needs help. And if you aren’t up for this—“
Zach reached across the table, grabbed Caleb’s arm as he started to get to his feet.
“I need her home address. The location of her office. Her phone numbers. Give me everything you’ve got.” His eyes narrowed to flinty slits. “I am absolutely up for this. More than you could possibly know.”
CHAPTER NINE
Zach prepared to leave for D. C.
He was accustomed to making last-minute travel plans: a note for his housekeeper, a voice mail for his driver, clothes and toiletries neatly arranged in his duffel bag. He slid his Heckler & Koch 9mm into a holster.
Just another day at the office.
When he was done, he checked his watch. It was still early. Barely 10 a.m. There were shuttle flights to D.C. virtually the entire day, but maybe he’d drive down instead.
With luck, he could do it in a little over three hours. Between cabbing to La Guardia and going through airport security, he might even save some time. Plus, being behind the wheel for a few hours would give him time to lay out a strategy.
Of course, when he got to D.C., he’d need to rent a less obvious car than the Porsche for surveillance.
Surveillance.
A world of complexity in one word, he thought as he walked briskly to the garage where he stored the Porsche.
There were no specific rules about surveillance aside from the obvious one.
The watcher didn’t want the watchee to know he was there.
Aside from that, everything was up for grabs.