Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 132

“So let me get this straight,” Annie said, flopping dramatically into the office chair with the kind of flair only she could pull off. “We’re about to spend the afternoon watching security footage to track down a suspicious car. Basically, we’ve turned into TV detectives.”

“It’s not exactly like that, Annie,” I said, while Marcus set up the computer with the footage his contact at the security company had managed to get us.

“No, it’s exactly like that,” she insisted, spinning lazily in her chair like a kid. “All we’re missing is bad coffee in styrofoam cups and stale donuts. Marcus, please tell me you brought donuts.”

Marcus, eyes fixed on the laptop, didn’t even glance at her.

“No,” he said flatly.

The chill between them had been obvious since we’d met at Marcus’s office an hour ago. There was tension in the air, thick and uncomfortable, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why.

“Well, someone’s cheerful today,” Annie muttered, finally stopping her spinning. “Guess somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Some of us take serious situations seriously,” Marcus replied without looking up, his tone clipped as he adjusted the screen.

“And some of us think a little humor won’t kill anyone,” Annie shot back, her voice losing its usual lightness. It’s not like I think what happened to Christian is funny, but-”

That was just Annie’s way of coping. If she didn’t joke, she’d fall apart. I knew that. Marcus, on the other hand… not so much.

“Guys, please,” I cut in before the argument went any further. “Can we just focus on what we’re here to do?”

Marcus finally looked up from the screen.

“I got footage from three different cameras around the area where Christian’s accident happened,” he said, his voice back to its usual businesslike tone. “My contact at the monitoring company sent them to me off the record. Officially, there’s nothing suspicious about the accident, so the police aren’t investigating.”

“How convenient,” I muttered.

“I’ll show them in chronological order,” Marcus continued, ignoring the comment. “This first one’s from a commercial building, about fifteen minutes before the crash.”

The image was black and white, a little grainy, but clear enough to make out Christian’s car driving down the street. A few seconds later, a dark SUV appeared, keeping its distance but clearly following the same route.

“There’s our evidence,” Marcus said, pointing to the screen. “The guy was definitely tailing Christian.”

“Like every thriller we’ve ever watched,” Annie said, her tone more serious now. “This is real, isn’t it? Someone actually tried to kill him.”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” I said, my stomach twisting as I watched the footage.

Marcus clicked to the second video, showing a busier street.

“This one’s from a department store,” Marcus explained. “About five blocks from where the crash happened.”

Again, Christian’s car appeared on screen, followed by the same dark SUV. The footage quality was a little better this time, but still not clear enough to make out the details.

“The SUV’s still keeping its distance,” I noted. “Whoever that is, they knew exactly what they were doing.”

“Or they just watched too many YouTube tutorials on how to tail someone,” Annie muttered, though her eyes never left the screen.

Marcus froze the frame. The vehicle was angled just enough for us to see the side clearly for the first time.

I stared at the image, taking in every detail-the shape, the dark color, the rims. The license plate was covered with mud or something that made it unreadable. Clearly deliberate. But then something on the rear windshield caught my eye.

“Wait,” I murmured, leaning even closer. “Marcus, can you zoom in here?”

He clicked a few times, enlarging the section of the SUV’s rear window. The image was pixelated, but visible enough. A small sticker sat in the bottom right corner.

And then it hit me like a punch to the chest.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, my hand flying to my mouth.

“What is it?” Annie asked immediately, standing to get a closer look.

“Do you recognize something?” Marcus pressed, leaning over my shoulder.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen. My pulse was hammering. It couldn’t be. But the longer I stared, the more certain I became.

“Zoey?” Annie’s hand touched my arm. “You’re pale. What did you see?”

I swallowed hard, my voice barely steady.

“I recognize that car.”