Page 27 of Doxed

I keep my door cracked and play more of the cart racing game in bed. I will beat Miles at this damn game. It doesn’t take long for Miles to tread up the stairs to his room. I wait, listening to the silence in the house before sliding out of bed and slipping down the stairs on quiet feet.

I pause at the bottom, straining my ears to make sure Miles didn’t hear me.

The moon shines on the concrete floor, casting the hallway in a cool glow.

When I'm sure that he’s not coming back down, I tiptoe down the hallway and stop at his office door, taking in a calming breath. I really hope my plan worked.

I hesitantly push on the door, and it opens. My lips curl in a triumphant grin, and I walk inside of Miles’ office.

My hands fumble around on the black walls, searching for a light switch, flipping it when I find it. I squint as the bright light illuminates the room. It’s a little small, but filled with a lot of techy equipment.

I look around the room as I head for the desk.

There aren't really a lot of places to hide something. The only furniture items in here are his massive desk, chair, and a bookshelf that has a few books as well as a few Pokemon cards on display. Weird, but alright. I'm not really looking for anything specific, just answers. Any answers. The smaller screen at the end of the row has multiple small video boxes showing rooms in Miles’ house. He wasn’t lying to me. He has cameras all over the house.

But that’s not what I'm interested in. His computer is still on, his black wallpaper shining back at me. I hesitantly sit down in the desk chair and roll toward the desk. For someone who’s a hacker, I thought he would have a password on his computer at least. Maybe he doesn't because he doesn't think anyone could get into the room in the first place.

I don't know where to look. The home screen is blank, save for a few folders, but there isn’t anything of interest in those, or at least not anything that I can decipher.

In the bar at the bottom of the screen, I notice an app has been minimized, but it’s still running. So I click on it and my heart skids to a halt in my chest.

It’s another camera feed, like the one in Miles’ house, except this one is of my apartment.

Licking my lips, I try to calm myself down. He probably placed them in my apartment when he went to get my stuff. To see if anyone broke in, right?

I see a history tab at the top and click on it with lightning speed. It has options for the last month, the last ninety days, and last year. I can look back at all the recordings of the last month; I shouldn't need anything beyond that.

With measured breaths, I scroll down through the recordings until I hit the bottom, and I check the date above it.

My hand grows slick against the black mouse and tears fill my eyes as I stare at the numbers on the screen. Miles put cameras in my apartment weeks before I came to his house, weeks before he rescued me at La Lujuria, weeks before I ever even met him.

I jolt from the chair, sending it rolling backward and leave Miles’ office, not even bothering to close the door behind me.

I have to get out of here. Now. I slip on the shoes I left at the base of the stairs after my walk today and then search the kitchen for Miles’ car keys.

I yank open every drawer in the kitchen and come up empty-handed, so I take a chance and head down to the garage.

As soon as my foot hits the floor, bright lights illuminate the concrete garage, and I scan the large room for any place where keys could be kept, but again, there isn’t anything.

Miles has a few cars and a motorcycle, but I never found any keys in his bedroom, and there weren't any in his office, so they have to be down here.

I head for his gray-green Porsche, since it’s the only one I’ve seen him drive.

Opening the driver’s side door, I find what I'm looking for in the cupholder. With a silent, relieved sigh, I slide into the car and lick my lips. Once I start it, I need to get the hell out of here. I can’t waste any more time.

The engine roars beneath me, echoing in the concrete box of a garage, and I hurry toward the door. I don't remember Miles pressing anything to open in, so I'm hoping its motion activated like the lights.

I come to an abrupt stop at the door and my shoulders heave with release as it slowly creeps open. My fingers tap against the steering wheel in anticipation, and I cast a glance in the rearview mirror, hoping I don't see Miles bounding down the stairs after me.

I gun it the second that I can clearly make it out of the garage, not even waiting for the door to fully open, and I head for the gates.

They slide open before I reach them and I speed down the long driveway.

I have no idea where I am, but I’ll figure out how to get back to Seattle once I make it to the main road.

The car skids onto a highway, the tires kicking up loose rocks and shaking the cabin as I take the turn too quickly, and I race down the highway, searching for any road sign to determine where I am.

Seattle 50

Fifty miles and I’ll be free.

Well, not completely. I don't know what Miles was telling the truth about, but it’s best that I get away from him and whoever he says is looking for me.

I have some cash in a safe in my apartment.

I'll use that to go on a vacation and wait for things to settle down.

Then maybe I'll come back or maybe I'll go somewhere else.

The lights of the city are a welcome sight and make me want to burst into tears of relief.

I turn onto the street where my building is and slowly make my way into the underground garage.

I know I should ditch Miles’ car before he reports it missing, but I don't have any other way to get to the airport.

My car is probably at an impound lot or still at the private airport where I left it when I went to work that night.

I have no idea where my car keys are, and I have no phone to order a ride.

My apartment key and wallet are gone too, so if they ask for me to provide ID to use the maintenance key for my apartment, I'm screwed.

In the elevator, I hit the button for the lobby and then press my back against the wall of the elevator, resting my head against it as well and closing my eyes. These last few weeks have been… confusing now that I know Miles has known me longer than he’s let on.

I knew he was schemy and cold, but I was never afraid of him.

In the back of my mind, I knew he was at Carlos’ birthday for me, but I never asked because I didn't want him to lie to me.

I didn't want him to ruin the fantasy of the masked man hiding in the shadows and protecting me.

For someone who never had anyone, it felt nice to have someone who watched over me.

But now I'm feeling that I've been outsmarted, hunted.

Goosebumps rise on my arms, and I hastily sweep my hands over them to calm them. I'm scared.

Ding! The elevator chimes and the doors slide open. I push off the back wall of the elevator car and stride into the lobby. I know whatever fucked up god up there is on my side tonight when the shy, young guy I know well is working behind the desk.

He scrambles from his chair as I lay my arms on the tall front desk. “Miss. Anderson,” he greets me.

“Hi,” I coo sweetly. “I lost my key when I was on vacation and I was hoping you could let me borrow the maintenance key to get into my apartment.” I bat my lashes, hoping he’ll buy my last-minute lie.

I have no luggage with me and I'm dressed in little lounge shorts and a lounge bra that shows way too much cleavage. I don’t look like someone who’s been traveling.

“Of course.” He turns and heads to the property manager's office to retrieve the key. “I hope you enjoyed your vacation. Just bring this back in the morning and I'll put in a maintenance order for a new key for you.” He hands me the key and I take it.

“Thank you,” I say, leaving before he can change his mind or something can ruin this.

The elevator ride to my floor seems to take forever. I'm already short on time and I've used a lot of it just to get here. This is the first place Miles will look for me.

I swing my door open and let it softly close behind me while I rush through my apartment and to the safe in my closet. My fingers hurry through the code to the safe and it beeps, the small light flashing green. I drag over an empty duffle bag while the locks click unlocked on the safe.

In a disorderly manner, I sweep the stacks of cash into the bag and then take my passport and drop it into the bag, too.

I zip the bag closed and heft the thick leather strap over my shoulder.

I don’t pack anything else; there's no time.

I'll buy new clothes and a phone and… literally everything else when I get wherever I'm going.

I stand and turn around, and scream when I see Miles’ green eyes glaring down at me.

His hand plasters over my mouth and he places his other hand on the back of my neck and shoves me into the wall, my clothes draping over us and being pinned between my back and the wall.

“I’ve never met anyone more stupid than you,” he spits out at me, his mouth centimeters from his hand.

His eyes burn with fury and I whimper behind his hand, tears filling my eyes.

“Now let’s fucking go before they find us here.

” His hand leaves my mouth, but his other moves to cup my shoulder and he yanks me forward, turning and pushing me in front of him.

I spin around to face him, stopping still inside the closet. “You were watching me. You put cameras in my apartment before we ever met. You're lying about everything! You stalked me!” My eyes grow with every accusation, as does my volume.