Fidelity (Infidelity #5)(7)

Reaching inside his pocket, I pulled out the transmitter and then removed the Bluetooth device from his ear. Holding it near, I listened as the plea came again.

“Stan! Stan! Can you hear me? Did you see someone?”

I cleared my throat and spoke, elongating my words with a hint of a Southern accent. “No. Damn fog. All’s clear.”

Holding my breath, I waited for a response, praying that I hadn’t fucking blown my chance to free Charli from the manor. I glanced up toward the house. From the lowland of the field, it was a blur of warm yellows and cool blues. The strange combination created an impressionistic masterpiece that I didn’t have time to interpret. All that mattered was that the manor was within reach.

I should have expected sentries. How had Chelsea made it undetected—or had she? Had they watched her? Did Fitzgerald know what was happening?

“Keep watching,” the man on the other end of the two-way radio said. “All hell’s breaking loose up here. We don’t need more.”

What kind of hell? I wanted to ask. Instead, I replied in a voice unlike my own, “Yes, sir.”

The airway went silent.

Under the fog, even the sliver of moon did little to illuminate the transmitter in my hand. I swiped the screen and checked for other stations, other information.

What had he meant by all hell breaking loose?

As I squinted toward the red numbers, I noticed the blood smeared on my knuckles. I flexed my hand, assessing if the blood was Stan’s or mine. Though my hand was tight, my bones were intact. The breaking I’d heard was most definitely his cheekbone and the blood undoubtedly came from his nose.

One last look at Stan and I took a deep breath. He’d wake in a few minutes or a few hours. Either way, I needed to be sure he wouldn’t tell anyone about me, not until Charli and I were far away.

Another search of his pockets yielded a phone and wallet. I threw both items out of reach. I removed his jacket, and then with the help of his shoestrings, I tied his wrists behind him. His belt worked well to secure his ankles.

When Mr. Fitzgerald’s top-notch security guard woke, he’d be propped against a tree at the side of the path, his phone and wallet out of reach with no way to stand or walk for help.

After one last check of his pockets, I turned back toward the manor. This time I was wearing a Montague Manor security jacket, courtesy of my friend Stan.

Instead of running full force as I had after the shock of having Chelsea, not Charli, in my grasp, I moved quickly but cautiously, watching the perimeter, looking for movement, and listening.

The closer I got to my destination, the thicker the fog became. All I could make out was a lake to my side and the manor looming overhead. The condensation continued to distort my vision. I imagined Charli running toward me as Chelsea had. I longed to call out to her, but feared alerting more of the Montague security.

The invasion I planned was solo. Though Isaac had wanted to come along, I’d refused. If this were to fail, I was the one who’d breached the property. I sent him back to the car with Chelsea. If all went as I wanted, I’d call for him to come and pick us up. My Charli didn’t deserve to be sneaking off her own property.

When I’d first seen Chelsea, I was too shocked to look at her, really look at her. But as Isaac reached for her, telling me to let her go, I saw what Charli had told me, what Deloris had discussed. I saw Chelsea’s bruised cheek. Granted in the dim light, I hadn’t seen it as well as I could, but I knew that everyone had been right. Edward Spencer had done that to her.

Though I’d released some fury on the security guy who’d tried to stop me, I had plenty pent up for the asshole up at the manor. He deserved to get some of, if not more than, what he’d given.

Step by step, I moved closer to my goal. My ears were tuned to the world around me. For a city boy, I had a sense of nature. As long as the frogs and crickets made noise, the coast was clear. It was when they stilled that I did too. It was part of how I sensed Stan.

Now that our encounter was past tense, I was relieved I hadn’t found a gun. Even if I had, it wouldn’t have stopped my determination. I told myself to proceed with caution. Just because Stan had no weapon didn’t mean that all of Montague security went unarmed.

The crickets stilled as voices began to register. I stepped in the shadow of the tree line and moved slowly toward the light. No longer was the path hard-packed dirt. It had morphed into a thick, lush lawn beneath my shoes. The moist grass muffled my steps as I progressed slowly forward.

In the near distance were people, many people, all dressed in their finest. They were clustered in groups, their voices hushed yet anxious.

It was then I heard someone coming from behind. Spinning, I saw his jacket, the same as the one I now wore.

“What the hell—”

Crack!

I shook out my right hand as another guard hit the ground. This one at least had cushy grass, which was more than my friend Stan had. I knelt beside his wilted body, making sure that he too was unconscious. He was, but fuck. I didn’t have time to keep tying them up. And lucky for him, I’d missed his nose. I grabbed him under his arms and dragged him back into the trees. Same routine, phone and wallet. I plucked the Bluetooth from his ear and found the transmitter. The lake I’d noticed earlier was only a few yards away. Casually, I dropped the transmitter and phone into the water, the ripples fading into the mist as they sunk to the depths.