Page 36 of XOXO, Little Butterfly (The Storyteller’s Bodyguard #2)
Birdie
“What were you doing in Raiford?” My question halts Tristan’s storming out.
He pauses, his back to me. “Did you know Florida had rolled out a statewide electronic communication system across prisons?”
“I’m sorry what?”
“Inmates are allowed tablets.” He spins to face me. “They can read books, listen to music, watch videos, finish their education and…send and receive messages.”
I swallow involuntarily. I don’t know where exactly this is going, but my heart jumps at every possibility. Shane’s direct and unrestricted connection to the outer world, to journalists, to podcasts, to groupies, to Blake…
Question after question bullets through my head. I don’t let them out. I only stare at Tristan. He’s examining me, testing me with his eyes. I hold still and try to dig my way past the scrutiny, to decipher whatever is hiding behind.
“I stumbled on some interesting information at the prison,” he says.
Now, it’s my heart that bullets. What did you find out, Tristan? “Care to share?”
“For starters, Shane doesn’t have a tablet.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “H-he doesn’t?”
“No. You need money to buy one and use the apps. From what I’ve gathered, he doesn’t have much because his parents are unavailable and his MC shunned him after the conviction.”
That’s a lot of info gathered in one visit. Those prison guards have big mouths.
“You know what else I found?”
And it’s not over. I hold my breath.
“Shane Fletcher’s file is sealed.”
That is no news to me. The case was automatically sealed because of the victims involved, and I paid a lot of money to keep it that way over the years.
“It doesn’t matter. I already told you everything that’s in there.
Was that why you went to the prison, to investigate my ex-husband’s case? Such a waste of time.”
Tristan steps closer. His voice drops, low and lethal. “You think I went there to play detective? I went there to assess the threat…in case I’d have to neutralize it.”
In other words, kill Shane. Just like he said he’d kill Blake. Just like I want Butterfly Man to do for me. I gulp. “Tristan…you can’t. I’d never—”
“I’m your bodyguard. It’s my job.” He’s not blinking. Not breathing. His eyes are locked on mine. “If Shane so much as breathes in your direction, I need to know how to cut off the air.”
I flinch. Every syllable is soaked in intent. Not rage. Not jealousy. Something worse, twisted and terrifying and yet loyal, dedicated.
Obsessed.
“Your job is to protect me, but not—”
He marches out of my room and into his. I run after him. “You can’t ignore me. This is crucial.”
Abruptly, he returns, blocking my way the second I cross the threshold. “Take this.”
I glance at his hands. He’s holding a tablet. “What is this?”
“When I knew Shane didn’t have a tablet, I made a generous donation to him and inmates like him that allowed them all to get tablets.”
“What?! You let Shane have the means to contact anyone outside?!”
He glares at me like I’m a fool wasting his energy. “I let him have a gadget I can track. The one I’m holding is a clone.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Every message he sends, every app he opens, every name he searches—it’s mirrored here.”
My fingers tighten around the device. “You bugged him.”
A smug smirk curls up the corner of his lips. “If Shane decides to open his mouth, he won’t just be talking to the outside. He’ll be talking to us.”
“Any message we don’t want getting out…”
“I’ll intercept and make sure it never reaches the intended audience.”
I sigh in relief and smile at him. “You’re a genius, Mr. Morra.”
“Not a waste of time after all, is it, Mrs. Abel?”