The empty building where I’m set up is old, hot, and musty. As soon as I unlock the door and step inside, I head up to the second floor bathroom and change into shorts and a t-shirt. Surveillance work for the most part is tiring and mind-numbing dull. Wearing comfortable clothes will make it a tiny bit more bearable.

At least I’m working alone. Trying to keep a conversation going with another agent for hours takes too much effort and energy.

After positioning an office chair near the window, I pull a pair of high-powered binoculars out of my bag and try to get comfortable.

It’s going to be a long day.

The visit with Sam threw me off balance. One minute he was adorable Sam and the next he turned into a man I didn’t recognize. Or maybe it is my fault for not recognizing him before as a sex-crazed maniac.

Something felt off after I came back from the restroom.

He seemed almost mad at me for some reason, and his crude language shocked me since it came out of nowhere. Under the right circumstances, I’m sure I would feel differently, but today it simply wasn’t appropriate. At least he smoothed things over quickly, obviously feeling bad for messing up.

Truth is I was the one who screwed up and almost turned the investigation upside down. My personal feelings got in the way, and I was close to stomping out of there in an angry huff.

If Sam hadn’t kissed me, I don’t know how things would have ended between us.

I’m not ready for things to end yet.

Things will end at some point, and I’ll be leaving town. Getting attached to Sam would be bad for me. Nothing good can come from it. My personal feelings about anything happening here has to stay out of the equation. It’s not my job to question, judge, or even try to protect the people I’m investigating. If laws are being broken, then it’s my job to gather evidence.

Period.

End of story.

Keeping my personal feelings under wraps has never been an issue before.

I’m a professional and I need to remember that.

I stand up when I see a woman with her head wrapped up in a bright red scarf walking down the sidewalk in front of the shop. Holding the binoculars to my eyes, I focus on her face. She’s pale and appears frail.

Could she be a cancer patient?

I put the binoculars down and watch as she walks into the shop. This can’t be good. What could a cancer patient be doing going into a tattoo shop? Buying drugs is the only answer. Probably marijuana.

At least I hope that’s all it is.