“Yes.”
“And you know this how?” he asked, crossing powerful arms over his chest, making his robe rise a little, exposing powerful legs, hard thighs and an erection that hadn’t gone down.
“I was parked outside, waiting for you to come home.” When she saw a semblance of heat flare in his eyes, she decided to explain herself before he thought the wrong thing. “Shana mentioned earlier today that you weren’t coming to her dinner party Saturday night. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. So I felt the two of us needed to discuss it.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. If you were going to be there, then I wasn’t. Now back to the part about why you thought I was followed.”
She was about to call him an ass again but remembered his warning. “I’m a PI, Dalton. I can recognize a tail. In fact, the person is still parked out there. I plan to go out through your back door and catch him by surprise.”
Her story sounded too far-fetched to have been made up. He’d been followed? Hadn’t he been getting an eerie feeling about that lately? He stared at her. “You sure?”
“Positive. Now I need to—”
“Wait.”
“Like hell I’ll wait, and don’t suggest we call the police,” she said. “I used to be a cop. I can handle this.”
From the way she was handling that Glock, he believed her. But still, if someone was out there, it might be a foe of the USN, the United Security Network. A few years ago, he’d worked as an agent for the United States Government while living in Europe. No one knew...except for Lady Victoria Bowman, one of his former lovers, but his secret was safe with her. His brothers didn’t even know of his involvement with the USN, and his identity and role in the agency was never to be revealed. But what if it had been?
“I need to get dressed,” he said, moving toward his bedroom. “Your assumption that I was followed might be a misunderstanding.”
“Why?”
Jules was asking too many damned questions. “Just sit tight for a second. If the person is just sitting there, that means he won’t be going anywhere.” He closed his bedroom door behind him and quickly began dialing a number he’d hoped he had no reason to ever call again.
A gruff voice came on the line. “It’s late, Granger.”
“That’s too fucking bad. I was followed tonight,” Dalton said, tossing off his robe and grabbing a pair of jeans and shirt from his closet.
There was a pause, and the voice that asked the next question was now alert, attentive. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Okay. Give me less than five and I’ll call you back.”
“All right.” Dalton hung up the phone. He finished dressing and was slipping into his shoes when he got a call back...in less than five. “Okay, what’s the deal?” he asked.
“Nothing on our end. If you’re being followed, it has nothing to do with us.”
Dalton wasn’t sure whether he should feel relieved or exasperated.
“You must have pissed someone off, Granger.”
The only person he knew he’d pissed off was presently standing in his living room. “Possibly.”
“Take my advice. Find out what’s going on and deal with it before it deals with you. If you need me for anything, let me know.”