His driver’s license says he’s six foot two and weighs in at over two hundred pounds. His hair color is black and his eyes are as green as an emerald. It doesn’t say the emerald part but it should. I have to admit that picture was one of the reasons I took this job, but it did not prepare me for the first time I’d actually see him up close in person. Nothing could have prepared me for that.
My mind drifts back to the day I came face to face with Maddox. Even his name is hot. I was watching him like every other day. I’d been waiting in my car for him to leave his office building so I could follow him home. I was sure I had time. He always left late. Usually it was hours after everyone else and I’d been in the car for five hours at this point. I should have known my bladder would never hold that giant Slurpee. It was my own doing. The Slurpee machine was broken for a week straight but that day it had been in working order at the convenience store. My judgment went out the window when I’d gotten the biggest size available. I hadn’t thought about the fact that what goes in must come out. Who thinks about having to pee? It’s something you just do when the need arises. Except I now work somewhere that you can’t do that.
I thought I could easily slip into the building and use the bathroom in the lobby. Little did I know you had to clear building security first. There was no going back at that point. The security guard scanned my license and gave me a pass to use the restroom. I made it in fine, but out, not so much. Maddox ran right into me. Okay, maybe I ran into him. Either way, my small self went flying, hitting the hard tiled floor. When I looked up and saw who I’d run into I panicked. He tried to help me up but I took off on a dead run out of the building.
Maddox had yelled out for me to stop, catching the security guard’s attention. I don’t know what the guard was thinking at that point but he tried to grab me. I bet he thought I had stolen something. I barely made it by him and out the door. I keep hoping Maddox has forgotten about me but now I have to be extra careful not to be seen.
My reminiscing is interrupted when MJ comes up with nothing.
“He doesn’t have social media.” She sounds shocked. I have an Instagram but that’s it. It is filled with pictures of food I’ve eaten. I only opened an account so that I could follow MJ. It is, in a sense, part of her job to take pictures and videos of what she prepares. Sometimes she’ll do a clip of a shopping trip, her prepping food, she’ll post recipes or she’ll put up a picture of the finished product. The number of followers she has is a testament to what an incredible chef she is.
I knew he didn’t have social media. Hell, I’m pretty sure the man doesn’t have a social life at all. He goes to and from work and that is basically it. If the woman who hired me thinks he’s up to something, she’s wrong. He’s up to absolutely nothing. I’ve seen her come and go from the building a few times. Maybe I should start digging into the people around him? I have nothing to give her at this point. She’s going to end up firing me and then I won’t get paid to watch Maddox anymore. I have to up my PI skills if I want to stay employed.
“What time is it?” I ask when I watch Maddox exit the building. He’s leaving early.
“A little after two,” she answers as my eyes go to the clock on the dashboard.
“Gotta go!”
“Hey, I was going to—”
I cut her off, ending the call. He might finally be up to something! I hop from the car, trying to blend in with the people on the street as I follow him. Suddenly I don’t feel so excited about catching him doing something he’s not supposed to be doing. The reality of that hits closer to home than it should.
2
Maddox
“She’s following you.”
“I believe that is her job. I can hardly be upset at someone trying to earn a living,” I say into the phone.
My assistant sighs. “Can I call the police now?”
“And ruin my fun?” I pause next to the bank building and adjust my tie while I use the glass to spy on my stalker.
“She could be dangerous.”
“I could only hope to have such luck.” I peer over my sunglasses to get a better look at the sunny strawberry-blonde, who is pretending great interest in a flock of pigeons that have gathered near her feet. She’s been following me for two weeks now and other than one serendipitous meeting in the lobby, she’s stayed hidden in her car. Much to my dismay. I’d hoped she’d confront me, but I suppose that’s not how surveilling goes, which is why today I’ve left work early—to force contact, something that Grant feels is a terrible idea.