“Yeah.” He chews on his thumbnail and watches me carefully. “She went out before the festival.”
“Where did she go?”
“Just to the store around the corner from her apartment,” he says. “Where she went isn’t the issue.”
“Did she see you?”
“No, she didn’t see me. She didn’t see the other guy either.”
“What other guy?” All concerns about Antony acting without my consent become irrelevant.
“While I was following her, I realized he was following her, too. So, I followed the follower.”
“What?” My head is starting to spin again and not in a fun way. “Who is he?”
“Well, I couldn’t see him well, so I got the license plate.” Antony pauses for a long moment. “It’s a rental, a west side rental. I had Reid’s new hacker kid dig into the rental records to see who it was rented to. The license on file says John Smith, which is clearly bullshit.”
The knot in my stomach tightens.
“Who is he really, and why is he tailing her?” I can barely get the words out.
“Maybe it’s the same reason you are,” Antony says with a smirk.
I glare at my cousin. I don’t like where any of this is going, and I don’t need his fucking attitude right now.
“You want me to break your jaw?” I ask.
“No, sir! Sorry, boss.” Antony straights his shoulders and looks down at the desk as he collects himself.
“Get on with it,” I growl.
“I did some more digging, and I got the
dude’s picture. He looked a little familiar, so it didn’t take long to figure out who he really is.”
“Well? Who is it?”
“Remember the dude who came into the club with her?”
“The one you smacked into the bar?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s the guy following her?” I stare at Antony as he nods definitively. “But we ran him out of town!”
“Apparently, we only ran him to the west side, not out of town entirely.”
“You’re sure?” I try to picture the guy in my head, but I can’t come up with anything more than a vague image. “You’re sure it’s the same guy?”
“Yeah, it was definitely him. There’s more though. The guy used to live on the east side, but when he came back to town, he moved into a place on the west side. On top of that, I’m pretty sure he works for the Ramsay family.”
“How could he be tied to the Ramsays?” I narrow my eyes, wondering if Antony is trying to draw conclusions out of thin air or if he’s on to something. This is all starting to sound a little paranoid. “He was just a random internet date.”
“Was he?” Antony raises an eyebrow.
“What are you implying?” I don’t like Antony’s tone—not at all.
“Not sure yet, boss, but I do hate a coincidence.”