Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(82)

“I am. And you can come with me if you are ready to do what needs to be done.”

I lean back in the leather seat and fasten my seatbelt. I know what Max is asking. He told Alex he’d “rule out” Tatum’s involvement. But he doesn’t mean to use email surveillance this time. “I’m in.”

“Even if it gets messy?”

Fifteen floors above us, I picture Alex curled up on her couch, a protective hand over her stomach. And I just know. I’d do anything for her.

“Even then,” I agree.





Max picks a parking spot around the corner from Tatum’s building. “Don’t get out yet,” he says, poking at his watch. “We need to give Scout a few minutes to let us into the building.”

“What’s her plan?” I ask, forever intrigued by my brother’s strange job.

“Pork bun delivery,” he says. “She has a label maker in the car. Takes her a few minutes to print out a fake patch for a cap or her jacket. They already know that the man eats a lot of pork buns, so they won’t question her if she gives them a pretty smile.”

“Nice.”

Scout is very good at her job because she knows when to let people’s expectations do the hard work for her. She’s five-foot-two, with a pixie haircut and an easy smile. If she says, “I’m here to deliver pork buns,” there are few on the planet who’d disbelieve her.

“Listen, I need to show you something.” My brother unfolds a paper from his pocket and hands it to me. “It’s an affidavit that Tatum is supposed to sign, admitting to hitting her. It ensures that he can’t turn around and easily petition for custody.”

I, Jared Tatum, confess to the following behavior… I read it. But when I turn over the paper, I am not prepared for what I see. It’s a photo of Alex looking straight into the camera.

With a hugely swollen eye, and a large bruise covering a quarter of her face.

“Holy fuck.” I suddenly understand what it means to see red. My body flashes with adrenaline, and I swear my vision goes wonky for a moment. Because all I can see right now is my own fist colliding with Jared Tatum’s face. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Eric,” Max says softly. “You’re not.”

And now I am full of rage. “Why the fuck did you show that to me, then? What man could do that? There is not one fucking thing she could ever say to me that would make me hit her. That eye. Jesus.”

My brother lays a steadying hand on my forearm. “A stupid man,” he says quietly. “But not a habitual abuser.”

“What?” I gasp, my hand twitching for the door handle. Just let me at him.

“Listen carefully,” Max says in his iciest tone. “I didn’t show you that photo to get you riled up. I showed it to you so that you’d understand. A serial abuser doesn’t punch a woman in the eye. It’s too obvious. Alex had to call in sick for three days until she could cover it up with makeup. This guy lost it when he hit her.”

“Who cares? You still can’t do that.”

“No,” Max agrees. “He can’t. But there are two things you need to understand before we go upstairs. The first is that if you lose control, you’ll be just like him—another asshole with no moral standing. He punched Alex in the face, and he lost her trust forever. You punch him and you could fuck this up for Alex, and complicate your own life, too.”

I take a deep breath and try to calm down. I know he’s right.

“The other thing is harder to accept. That man will always be that baby’s father. Legal documents can put the law on Alex’s side. But they can’t change biology. And if this man decides someday that seeing his child is his only priority, he may be successful.”

“He’ll have to go through me,” I sputter.

“And you can say that. You can scare him off—but only up to a point. You want to end this. You want to make him disappear. But you can’t. Not completely. Not without ruining your own life, too.”

I hate that he’s right. I hate it so much.

Max checks his watch. “Scout says—back door at 12:19. That’s my girl! Let’s go.”

We get out of the car and walk slowly down the block. “How do you want to play this?”

“You’ll be out of sight while I get him to open the door. And then—surprise. The jealous boyfriend with the violent day job is back to stare him down. He’ll remember you, right?”

“Hell yes. Although I’m slightly less menacing than I was in Hawaii. Good thing I’m not carrying my cane.”

“A cane can be very menacing. I have one that is actually a four-way camera. And I have another that’s a dart gun.”

“Of course you do.”

“Admit it,” Max says, stopping on the sidewalk. “You love this. The joyride last night was fun. And now you get to scare the bejesus out of Jared Tatum.”

“It’s not unappealing.”

“There’s always an open position waiting for you.” Max checks his watch. “Give her another minute.”

“Max, I don’t want a job. I’m only here for Alex. Menacing strangers for pay isn’t my style. Unless I’m wearing skates.”

“But I wouldn’t make you a goon,” my brother argues. He waves me forward. “The fun part isn’t even the fast cars, or tricking doormen. The fun part is having the drop on how people think. You’re smart, Eric. With great reflexes. You could be amazing.”