Page 77 of Menace in Vegas (Pucked Up Hearts #2)

77

CONNOR

A llie deserves the truth.

At least, as much of it as I’ve got.

I scrub a hand through my hair, trying to untangle the mess in my head.

After chasing shadows all morning and coming up empty, I picked up flowers for her. Some dumb, romantic attempt to soften the mood before I admitted something was wrong.

She hasn’t even noticed them. They’re lying on the kitchen table now, wilting like my last ounce of chill.

Worse?

The asshole I chased earlier wasn’t just lurking. He was watching my wife.

“I saw him,” I say quietly. “Hoodie up, hovering by the smoothie shop. He followed us when we started walking. Slipped behind a group of tourists when I turned around. By the time they moved, he was gone.”

Allie’s eyes widen. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was trying to confirm it wasn’t just some sketchy tourist. I didn’t want to worry you.”

She stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Connor?—”

“I know,” I cut in. “I should’ve told you. But the second I saw him again today, I knew. It’s not random. It’s not harmless. And it’s sure as hell not over.”

I start pacing again, fists clenched, blood boiling with the need to protect her.

“He’s not just watching anymore. He’s waiting. That kind of stillness? That’s not curiosity. It’s intent.”

Allie crosses her arms. “So now what?”

I stop pacing long enough to really look at her.

Her face is pale, but her eyes? They’re steady. Fierce.

She’s scared but she’s not running.

God, I love her.

“I’m going to find him,” I say. “I don’t care what it takes. I’m not letting some bastard stalk my wife.”

She steps closer, voice low but unwavering. “Then let me help.”

I hesitate.

But I know better than to lie to her now.

“You can help by staying close. Letting me keep an eye on you. And if you see him again—anywhere—you tell me immediately. No exceptions.”

She doesn’t argue.

But her jaw tightens, and I can see it in her eyes. She knows I’m still holding something back.

And she’s right.

If I told her that I called in a hacker named Stryker to trace Daltyn’s digital footprint like breadcrumbs, it would only spiral into more questions. More fear.

So, for now, I let her believe this is everything.

I don’t look at the flowers on the table. They’re just a reminder of what I was hoping for before everything flipped upside down.

They’re already wilting.

And so is my patience.

Whoever’s watching her better pray I don’t find him first.