She’d been hiding. Trying not to let me see that she was hurt.
Hell, I’d been doing the same thing during that entire stupid fight on the terrace.
Somehow I’d circled around and the Bluewater entrance was up ahead. I could keep going. Drive right on out of here. Abandon my mission. I could leave Cameron to her own devices. She could hire any private security team she wanted. It wasn’t like she didn’t have the money.
I stopped again, staring at the entrance gate. At the road beyond and where it led.
God, I was being an idiot. Of course I wasn’t going to leave her. I couldn’t. And it wasn’t about the job. It wasn’t because I knew she was in danger. There were other people who could protect her.
But there wasn’t anyone else who was going to love her.
Not like I did. Because holy shit, I loved her like fucking crazy.
I turned my bike around and cruised back toward her house. She did owe me an apology, but this time I’d stop acting like a jackass and give her a chance to explain. And I’d apologize for what I’d said to her. I hadn’t meant it.
And she’d had one hell of a day. I really should have cut her some slack.
One hell of a day. She’d said something like that back at the office earlier and now it tickled my brain like a feather. Something about Bobby. She’d said he always texted or showed up right after she was dealing with one of the incidents. Like the universe was adding insult to injury.
She was right.
I didn’t know about the parking garage attack. I hadn’t been there. But after the hit and run, he’d tried to call her. I remembered her ignoring his call when we were drinking bourbon in her kitchen.
He’d texted her the day after the break-in at her house. Something about inviting her to a party on his stripper plane. And he’d shown up at her office right when the media shit storm had started. He’d claimed that was how he knew.
I drove up Cameron’s driveway and stopped in front of her house. Both she and Brandy had dismissed Bobby as a suspect. They didn’t think he had a motive. He had a trust fund that would enable him to keep living his best life without ever having to work.
But what if he didn’t?
Cameron had sarcastically referred to his stripper plane as another brilliant business idea that had wasted a bunch of his trust fund. Another. That meant there’d been more than one. And she’d said it casually, like it was a regular occurrence.
Maybe Bobby didn’t have an endless supply of money like Cameron thought. Maybe he’d spent too much on so-called businesses that were really just excuses for him to show off in front of his friends and Instagram followers.
And now Cameron was poised to buy a majority share in the company his father had founded. A company he might have always assumed he’d inherit. After all, it had his last name.
But if he’d discovered he wouldn’t—that Cameron Whitbury was gradually buying out the Spencer family…
I yanked my helmet off and ran up the front porch. Jammed in the code to unlock the door. I needed to see the security footage from the night of the break-in here.
If Bobby was behind everything, he could have hired someone to break in to Cameron’s house. But my instincts were screaming at me; it felt like my brain was on fire. I had a feeling it was him. That he’d want to do it himself, just to get into Cameron’s private space.
Ignoring Nicholas, busy starting dinner in the kitchen, I went to my temporary desk in the breakfast nook.
Still standing, I powered on my laptop. Opened the video. The intruder walked up to the front door, head down, hood up. Dark clothing, down to the shoes. Unlike Bobby, no designer labels.
But even Bobby Spencer had to be smart enough to know Cameron had security cameras. And if he wore something recognizable, he’d get caught.
I clicked through the frames, pausing, looking for the right angle. There had to be a moment when I could see the intruder from head to toe.
Finally, I found it. I isolated a spot and zoomed in.
There it was. The embossed Fendi logo on the toe of his black leather sneakers. The same sneakers he’d been wearing when he’d come into the office after the break-in. The ones that had seemed subdued compared to the rest of his clothes.