Page 17 of Doxed

Since the person who put a camera in Briar’s apartment clearly saw my camera, I didn't have to do the extreme and cut power to the building and turn on a signal jammer before going in to get her shit.

I had hit a wall trying to find the guy who placed the camera when I found out the cartel was going to hit the club. I’m still looking, but not as hard as before, because I'm sure he’s with the Vicarios. Who else would be watching her?

Nevertheless, to hide my identity, I slip on a ski mask before picking her lock and letting myself in.

I don't mind whoever’s watching to know someone came inside her apartment, but I don't want them to see what I take, so I grab one of Briar’s bar stools as I pass and put it against the control panel where my busted camera was and the new one is.

The backrest of the stool blocks it completely and frees me up to walk into Briar’s room and root through her shit in peace.

I don't really know what I'm looking for, some connection to her past, something about him , but she doesn't have anything. It’s like she completely cut out that part of her life. No old photos, letters, or childhood keepsakes.

My phone vibrates, and I pull it out of my pocket to check it.

Briar waking up and walking into the bathroom have triggered my motion sensors in my cameras.

I stuff my phone back into my pocket and start grabbing clothes out of her dresser and closet at random. Walking back into her room, I stuff her laptop into the bag and kneel on the floor to yank open her nightstand drawer and look for the charger.

I look over the contents of her nightstand. Her laptop charger, a glass jar of lotion, chapstick, and a purple dildo… might as well take it all.

I scoop up everything in the drawer and dump it in the bag I took from her closet, then venture into her bathroom and clean out her shower and the sink countertop.

Slinging the duffle over my shoulder, I stride out of the apartment, leaving the stool blocking the camera.

Driving up the long driveway, I pull into the underground garage under my house and take the stairs up to my kitchen.

I set the grocery bags down on the counter and then set Briar’s duffle on the floor to start putting away the groceries.

The house is quiet—and it’s nearing dinner time—so I put on a pot of water for the pasta and start mixing the meat to make meatballs. Spaghetti is one of the very few things I can make.

I usually order food, but I don't want extra people coming to the house right now that don’t need to be here.

As the sauce is simmering and the pastas about done, soft footsteps come down the stairs.

Briar glides into the room, coming and taking a seat at the bar behind me.

“Smells delicious,” she breathes.

I look at her over my shoulder. She’s wearing the clothes I gave her— my clothes—with her thick, deep brown hair hanging messily over her shoulders, looking sleep rumpled.

Her big emerald eyes blink lazily as she watches me.

Anger runs through my veins at the sight of her.

I resent that I find her beautiful when I hate her so much.

I have a push and pull feeling with the fact that she’s in my home. Sleeping so close to me.

On the one hand, it’s useful. She’s right where I need her to be. But on the other, my blood boils at even the thought of her sleeping peacefully on the floor below me.

I might have to enact my plan sooner than I wanted, just to get her out of my fucking house.

Grunting, I turn around and drain the pasta, adding it to the sauce and meatballs to simmer.

“I brought you some stuff from your apartment,” I say, turning my head toward her bag.

The stool scrapes against the concrete floors as she pushes away and goes to the bag.

She roots around in it. Pulling things out and looking through it.

“I brought your laptop too, but I need to put some stuff on it before I give it to you.” I grab bowls out of the cabinet next to me and start putting the spaghetti in them.

“Put what on it?” she asks, taking her bag to the stairs and setting it at the foot of them.

Setting the bowls and silverware on the counter, I set them as far away as possible without looking weird. “Just stuff to block your location so the cartel can’t find you.” And change all of your social media passwords so you can’t get into them and ask anyone to come save you, I think.

“Oh okay. You really think they’ll still be looking for me?” She gently sits down and picks up her fork.

“I found a camera in your apartment when I was there,” I lie. “They’re watching and waiting for you to come home.”

Her fork clatters against her bowl, and I snap my head to look at her. Her delicate hand trembles in front of her mouth, her big eyes larger than normal as she stares at me. “A camera?”

“Mmhmm,” I hum, shoveling the pasta into my mouth.

After a deep breath, she picks her fork back up and starts eating.

We eat in silence, which I enjoy, until she breaks it. “Dox,” her voice is gentle, meek. “What happened to the other girls?”

I shrug one shoulder, pushing away from the counter with my empty bowl. “I don’t know. Once they enter the trafficking world, they just… disappear. Missing without any traces.” I rinse my bowl, chancing a glance at her.

She chews on the inside of her lip, her eyes focused on her food.

I feel sorry for the other girls, truly, that’s got to fucking suck, but what the fuck am I supposed to do?