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The videos were annoying as fuck. Too cutesy and right now too time consuming. I was about ready to give up when I found the one I was looking for.

I enlarged the screen as much as possible and played it over and over again, finally figuring out a way to free the frame. Then I shifted from the IG back to the video. There was no fucking doubt it was the same man in both.

Maybe not a red flag by typical standards except for one detail.

The video had been taken in California. There was no fucking chance that was coincidence. Not unless the guy in the fuzzy picture from New York was someone else.

What in the fuck was I dealing with?

“You’re checking up on me?”

The tension in Juliette’s voice startled me almost as much as the fact she’d slipped into the office, coming far enough in to see the larger separate monitor without me knowing. I should have known by the scent of her lip gloss. Strawberry. One of the purchases made at the drug store. Since that night, every time I’d gotten close, the fragrance had assaulted my senses.

I didn’t bother trying to shut anything down. This was an investigation now. My investigation. “I’m searching for answers, Juliette.”

“On my accounts.” Her sigh was heavy as she walked closer.

Saving her life was the main thing on my mind.

Too bad it wasn’t the only thing. Her hair was tousled, a frank reminder that we’d spent hours exploring each other’s bodies. She’d found a tee shirt of mine.

While long enough to be a dress on her, the length highlighted her rounded hips and legs to die for.

If I were a decent man, I’d avert my eyes. Only I certainly wasn’t a decent man.

“Come here,” I commanded.

“Why should I?”

“Because I asked you to.”

She took a few seconds, but approached, folding her arms as she did. “What are we looking at?”

“You tell me. Do you recognize that man?” I flipped from one to the other.

She leaned in. “No. I have no idea who he is.”

“Does it appear to be the same guy on both posts to you?”

“Yeah, it does. Why?”

“California,” I pointed. “New York.”

Her frown immediately faded, turning into a hint of fear. “He was following me?”

“Maybe. Did you see him on your trip here?”

“I don’t think so, but maybe.” She looked away briefly. “Hold on. He was at the airport when we arrived. I accidently bumped into him.”

I sat back. “You’re sure.”

Juliette nodded. “What does that mean?”

“That means whoever planned your kidnapping had done so for months.”

“What happened wasn’t a random kidnapping.” Her voice was suddenly quiet, even trembling.

“No, it wasn’t.”