Don’t bother thanking me. You could have done this with Google, she messaged, then sent the report.
She was right. The guy was a nobody by the name of Jordan Solemaker. He literally did nothing, and the only record of his existence was a year-old electric bill from the same town where Clem went to college. So, there was a connection between them, albeit tenuous. At least that’s what I told myself.
CJ also sent me what she thought might be some of his social media, but even that hadn’t been updated in years, if it was truly him. None of it was useful, except that I had a name to put to his ugly mug. The lack of information was worrying on its own. How did anyone in this day and age manage to stay so far off the grid?
The Fokins managed it because we had the money and power to get things taken down, or better yet, never put up. But this nobody? How did he swing it?
Another message from CJ came through, with a warning that I might not like what she just found.
She was right. I didn’t. The picture she sent me came from one of my own security cameras, outside the very warehouse that had been attacked in the wee hours. The time stamp showed it was before the attack, and he only strolled past, paused for barely a second, then carried on out of the frame.
I messaged her to send me the rest of them, but she told me he wasn’t on any of the other cameras, promising she had scoured them twice at the time he appeared.
You’ve got yourself a ghost.
Great. Just what I needed. I studied the pictures my guard had sent me, of Clem and this Jordan Solemaker asshole, heads close together, studying his phone. A vile taste filled my mouth, and the delicious aroma of the waiting Chinese food suddenly smelled rank.
Was this guy part of the new group that had been attacking us? Fuck, that was an unsavory enough thought, but another, worse one crept in.
Was Clem in on it? The woman I loved had fought to make mine. Was she working against me this entire time? There was no fucking way. Was there?
Time seemed to speed up as soon as I got the call from the guard, but when I looked at my watch, more than an hour had gone by. I called Clem to see where she was, but it rang through to voicemail. A text message went unanswered as more minutes ticked by, moving in slow motion now.
I sank onto a kitchen chair, shoving the takeout boxes aside, going over everything as I studied the pictures. There was no way.
So why wasn’t she answering my calls, and why hadn’t she returned home?
Chapter 33 - Clem
Sitting in the motionless car, I stared out the window at the other cars surrounding us, then tilted my head slowly toward the driver’s head. I didn’t see anything, and the air seemed to vibrate around me. Total shock.
Was I a stalker magnet? Could someone actually have that much bad luck in one lifetime that I escaped from one abusive maniac and then ended up married to…
But Rurik had never raised a hand against me. He barely raised his voice. Despite that, there was no denying everything I just learned. He had very efficiently set me up.
Was I really going to put any stock in something I found out through Jordie, of all people? The truth screamed at me, telling me it didn’t matter what the source was. I knew now. There was no pretending I didn’t.
With a low moan, I pressed my hands into my stomach, sick from the revelation. It was killing me to have the source of my comfort and safety ripped away from me. Not Rurik, who I was starting to trust, who I was starting to have such strong, true feelings for. Something I never thought I’d have again and had been fighting it for all I was worth.
Was that my instinct kicking in or unnecessary fear?
Part of me yearned to get home and ask him about it, and demand to know what that picture with the guns was about. He would laugh and tell me it wasn’t true—but what would he say about the apartment being owned by one of his cousins? What if Jordie was right about all of it?
“Do you mind taking the next exit?” I asked the driver, shocked that words made it through my constricted throat. Iscrambled to remember what was up ahead and asked him to drop me off at a shopping center.
“No problem,” he said.
My fingernails dug into my palms as we made our way to the exit lane and finally burst free from the gridlock. I needed time to think, and I couldn’t do it at home. Home. Ha. I couldn’t believe I had begun to think of Rurik’s mansion that way. One thing he was always spot on about was knowing when something was wrong, and now something was so wrong I’d never be able to hide it.
If I confronted him about something this big, would the monster finally come out? I had been able to fix my mistakes in the past before he had a chance to get truly angry, and the snafu with my passport was easily fixed. I groaned inwardly, remembering the damn passport that arrived a day after Rurik sent the picture of me he snapped off to one of his “contacts” and assured me there was nothing to worry about.
Was the passport actually a fake? Holy crap, how did I get involved in this? It was still in my bag, and I wanted to chuck it out the window, but no one had blinked in the many control stations we’d gone through on our way to and from Japan. Was my imagination working overtime again?
He wasn’t like Jordie. Not at all. Not even a little bit.
Jordie wasn’t like Jordie in the beginning,I reminded myself.
He was also sweet, kind, and forgiving. Until he wasn’t. And oh my God, I wasn’t married to him, and he was nowhere near as rich or powerful as Rurik, and he still managed to track me down.