The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(85)

Raymond scoffed at my remark. "You're not that difficult to track down. Granted, I'm sure you've made significant efforts to cover your tracks in order to avoid any unpleasant run-ins with people like me. And I may not have known exactly where you'd be buying your weekly groceries or which store you frequent to stock up on all those cute little outfits of yours. But after you so rudely left my hotel room that night, I knew one place that you'd undoubtedly be visiting."

As my ears followed his sinister series of words, my mind was coming to the most horrifying conclusion. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it before. After all the precautions I take on a daily basis – unlisted phone numbers, indirect routes to and from my house, fake jobs that I tell my family about – I had never even considered this one. He had been tracking me from the moment I stepped onto his property. At his very own house! While I was inside consoling Anne Jacobs with hugs and Kleenexes and kind words about moving on and knowing the truth, Raymond's wretched little spy had been outside taking down my license plate number and doing God knows what else. It was almost too brilliant for me to be angry. Almost.

"Clever," I managed to get out, despite the deafening pounding of my heart inside my ears. "So what's your corruption of choice? DMV or FBI?"

Raymond shook his head. "A magician never reveals his secrets."

My mind raced. If he had access to files like driving records and license plate databases, there was no end to the possible extent of his knowledge. That wasn't public information. You can't just enter a license plate number into a Google search and out pops a nice and neat little personal biography. As far as I could tell, he had some type of government hookup. Not that I was surprised. The businessmen I dealt with in my line of work were rarely ever squeaky clean.

I needed leverage. And I needed it now. Something to throw back in his face. But I had nothing!

So I took a gamble.

"What about your new girlfriend? I'm sure she'd be delighted to know about your 'past.'"

To which he chuckled again. This time it was loud and dripping with disdain. "There is no new girlfriend, sweetie," he began. "There's just an ex-wife, some very expensive attorneys' bills, and a large divorce settlement. Thanks to you."

I swallowed hard. I knew I was trapped. There was nothing else I could do at this point. I would have to leave and regroup. Given enough time, I would surely be able to think of something. This evil man had to be stopped!

"Well," I said, gathering up my things, "sounds like you've got a lot on your plate. I'll leave you be."

That's when Raymond stood up and walked over to the couch. I suddenly felt very small under his towering six-foot-three frame. He sat down next to me – dangerously close, his proximity making me painfully uncomfortable.

But his ominous facade seemed to soften somewhat as he brought his face close to mine. I could feel his breath on my skin, and it made me want to squirm. But I struggled to remain poised and controlled, not flinching, even for a second. Because I couldn't give him that satisfaction. I couldn't let him know what kind of effect he was having on me.

But the truth was, I had no idea what was coming next. I hadn't a clue what he was about to say or what other surprises he had hidden up his sleeve.

Then he placed his hand gently on my thigh, leaned in closer, and whispered, "We never got to finish what we started. Back at the hotel."

I tried hard to suppress the gasp that was building up in my throat. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was he really implying what I thought he was implying?

I suddenly felt small and lost, sitting on that red leather couch, in that dauntingly large office. I closed my eyes, pulling the strength from the very depths of my soul.

"I'm a reasonable man. I'd probably be willing to work something out." His tone was soft, almost amicable. But I could sense the rage buried deep within. It poured out of his eyes and burned into my skin. Lingering aggravation and promises of revenge. He moved his hand farther up my leg. "You know, call off my spies."

I looked down at his hand, resting dangerously close to the hemline of my skirt. It felt like a thousand tiny spiders crawling on my skin, making me want to jump up and scream and brush them away with swift, merciless motions.

I knew exactly what I needed to do.

And it was exactly the right time to do it.

I stood up, pushing Raymond's grubby hand violently from my leg. "You're disgusting," I said vehemently, before storming to the door, purse in hand, self-respect in tow.

But just as I laid my hand on the doorknob and pulled the large, wooden door toward me, revealing a small inch of space between me and the salvation of the outside world, he opened his mouth once again. And this time, the words that found their way out were surprisingly much worse. "I wonder how your mother would react when she learns what you really do for a living."

I paused, my hand still on the doorknob, my heart in my throat, the realization of the unexpected, deeper complexity of the situation immediately appearing across my face.

"Especially after the very similar way her own marriage crumbled," he continued, leaning back on the couch, relaxed in the safety of his upper-hand position.

I closed my eyes again. This time, much tighter. I could feel the weight of the world slowly come down upon my shoulders.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. This was supposed to be the part where I stormed out, victorious in my resolve. Warning him to "beware" because I, too, had a couple of tricks up my sleeve. And he would soon experience firsthand what I was capable of. Then I slam the door on my way out, leaving him to wallow in his palpable defeat.