wasn’t typing.
Maybe a bit of encouragement was in order.
She watched the bottom of the box where it said: “PeteTakesU is typing a message.”
Kylie ground her teeth, outrage covering her with a feverish rage. Instead of dwelling on how this bastard preyed on innocent girls, she forced herself to focus on how Dani might talk to him. With her flippant, know-it-all attitude, she wouldn’t take crap off anyone.
Kylie envied Dani and her sisters. They were so socially adjusted, with one another to help out. Kylie imagined they fought. For a brief moment she remembered fighting with her own sister. Karen used to yell at Kylie for how she dressed, telling her repeatedly no one would ever ask her out if she refused to brush her hair and take care of herself.
Did her sister know how much worse Kylie looked after Karen died? No one noticed Kylie, and if they did they sure didn’t talk to her. She coasted through high school like a ghost, ignoring everyone around her and doing her best not to do anything to draw attention to herself. It wasn’t until college that she pulled out of that shell, once she left Dallas and decided she would rather live attacking life than running from it.
Pinching her nose, she checked her surroundings once again and watched as a couple of girls gave her the once-over and then sat at a table on the other side of the patio. They immediately started talking with each other and sipping their drinks.
Kylie forced her attention to the screen, wondering if going home wouldn’t be better. The hell with Perry and whether he showed up or not. She needed to be able to concentrate on saying the right thing to PeteTakesU.
Her heart skipped a beat. But she was ready for this. Already she knew statistics showed that teenagers text-messaged as their main means of communicating. In fact, most texted on a phone more than they talked on it. She quickly typed in her cell phone number, a number that would be traced to K. Dover in Mission Hills, Kansas. Even the best investigative programs wouldn’t narrow her phone down any further than that. It was hard to search for information on someone using programs that her side had devised in the first place.
Kylie leaned back, took a long drink of her still-warm latte, and glanced at the women facing each other at the nearby table. They were deeply engrossed in a conversation about their husbands. It wasn’t the first time Kylie had watched the world around her feeling like the outsider but knowing she was right where she belonged. It was her job to make sure women like those two could sit, relax, and not worry about anything other than catching up on gossip. Kylie was the protector.
Karen never got the chance to grow up and be the gorgeous woman she seemed destined to be. Granted, back then there wasn’t the Internet and her abductor hadn’t seduced her out of her home. Sexual predators used many different means to seek out their prey. Kylie would use whatever means to track them down and stop them.
Her cell phone buzzed and she glanced at her screen, seeing she’d received a text message.
Kylie sucked at text messaging. Although she believed the statistics, she didn’t understand for the life of her why people preferred this means of communicating when the buttons and screen were so small. She worked quickly to type:
At least talking to him like this, she could head home and not miss out talking to him. Closing down her laptop, she finished her latte and then headed to her car. Kylie didn’t speed but hurried the best she could, praying he wouldn’t text her while she was driving. No way would she text and drive. Not only was it against the law, but she also knew there was no way she could pull it off.
He didn’t send another text message, though. And after talking to Paul, giving him the phone number PeteTakesU sent his text message from, she entered her middle bedroom and stared at the monitors for her security system. She could see outside from two different angles, front and backyard. There were also cameras trained on her living room. Were there more cameras in the house that she didn’t have monitors for? She walked through her home, peering into air-conditioning vents but finding only the cameras that matched what the monitors showed in the bedroom. Her phone rang as she debated ordering out for supper or going to the store.
“If you’re really dying to know,” Paul said when she answered, “there aren’t any cameras in the bedrooms.”
Kylie rolled her eyes. “I was just curious.” She couldn’t hide her grin and was glad she spoke on the phone and was alone in her room so he couldn’t see how terribly she blushed. “Don’t you have a high score to beat somewhere?”
“Sure do. Oh, and that number he texted you from is a track phone. No way of knowing who purchased it or from where. Annoying little contraptions.”
Kylie thanked Paul, not too surprised, and hung up the phone. She was staring out her living room windows when a Jeep pulled up to the curb and parked in front of her home. Confrontation time. Maybe she should beat the crap out of Perry on the street. She was pretty sure the cameras didn’t go that far.
As she glanced down at her phone, a thought hit her. Not waiting to watch Perry get out of his Jeep, she headed back to the middle bedroom. She hurried inside, and her heart started pounding as she walked over to the equipment monitoring the surveillance around her home.
“Okay, let me see,” she said, tapping her finger to her lips and glancing at the control panel. She would catch hell for this, but damn it, she needed to keep her cover and it was no one’s damn business what she did on her own time. “You’re going to have to get your jollies some other way, Paul.”
She flicked the switch, shutting off the cameras. Then placing her cell phone facedown on the desk, she placed her briefcase over it, which would work in stifling any sounds it made. She didn’t want to turn it off and risk missing any text messages that might come through.
Perry knocked solidly on the front door as she left the bedroom, pulled the door closed, and then made sure it was locked. She glanced down at the jeans she wore today and sleeveless vest with its V-neck collar. Tugging on it offered a better view of what cleavage she had to offer.
“Good grief,” she grumbled, suddenly disgusted with herself. Damn good thing she turned off the cameras. Her plan was to kick his ass, not jump his bones.
She cringed, feeling the heat swell deep inside her when she reached for the doorknob just as Perry knocked again.
“I heard you the first time,” she said dryly as she opened the door. Goddamn, Perry looked better than any man she’d ever laid eyes on in her life. His eyes were exceptionally dark. And his almost black hair, windblown and probably longer than protocol stated his hair should be for his line of work, added to his bad-boy looks. Kylie pulled in all levels of training and kept her expression hard, not letting her gaze sway from his face. The last thing she needed to do was dwell on all that packed muscle that filled her doorway.
“What the hell were you doing at that bowling alley last night?” he barked, entering her house without invitation. “And you heard me yell at you. Don’t tell me you didn’t. I’m dying to hear your explanation for taking off like that.”
She was forced to move out of the way so he wouldn’t bulldoze over her. “Come on in,” she grumbled dryly, keeping her tone flat but unable to prevent her focus from dropping to his hard ass before he turned around. “I guess I missed the meeting where I learned I answered to you.”
Perry spun around, having made it to the middle of her living room, and slowly stalked toward her. “Cut the
