The Watcher (Men of Hidden Justice #4) Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Men of Hidden Justice Series by Melanie Moreland
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
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I also had a feeling, no matter how much I warned him, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

In the office, I made coffee and poured a cup, knowing I was going to need the strong brew. I headed downstairs to my secure server room, the banks of monitors bright and showing me everything I needed to know.

After Julian left, Leo and I changed several things. Julian had run both businesses as separate entities, and I’d widened the gap even more. Leo had nothing to do with Hidden Justice. I ran all their servers and programs for Hidden Justice. No one got past my security—firewalls or encryptions. But I was no longer part of a crew. I was firmly in the background, although I knew if needed, I would step up to help, the way Marcus and Matteo had come forward when Julian needed their help to rescue his wife and daughter. Elite Security took precedence, and I expanded its clientele and staff, making us the most sought-after security firm in the city.

I tapped the keys, looking over the system I had put in place. Everything was fine, exactly as I expected it to be. Then I opened a new window and began to hack. I knew how to keep the world out of Hidden Justice, but there were few places I couldn’t get into. The Real Connection was an easy one. Their firewalls and security were simple to slip through. I found Raven’s profile and started going backward. I dug into their databases and found Andy’s deleted profile, but nothing more. I hit dead end after dead end. I couldn’t find anything but an empty profile with a stock photo and a simple match line.

Seeking friendship—a real connection, not a hookup. Are you that girl for me?

Finally, frustrated, I started digging into his name. I came up with zero. Andrew Smith did not exist. At least, not this one. I grew frustrated, yanking on the back of my neck to ease the tension in my muscles. As I suspected, his burner cell gave me no clue. It was as if I was looking for a needle in a haystack.

I grabbed my phone and sent off a text, smiling grimly when I received a reply.

On my way, was all it said.

I stood and rolled my shoulders. I had to go upstairs and attend to business there. I could keep digging, but I hoped the text I sent would give me another angle to come at this.

In my office, I sent a text to Raven.

Me: Morning, pretty lady. Hope all is well and you got some sleep.

Her reply was fast.

Raven: I’m fine. All was quiet.

I frowned.

Me: And the sleep? I asked again.

This time, there was a small delay. I could picture her sitting on her little sofa, staring at the screen, trying to decide whether she should lie or not. Finally, she replied.

Raven: Not much.

I wasn’t surprised. I had spent some time on the dating site, creating a fake account and going through all the processes and looking around. I had hoped my programs here would have come up with more, but they, too, had struck out. But I hadn’t been able to rest much, worry about her staving off my sleep.

Me: I would like to take you to dinner.

Raven: You took me to dinner last night.

Me: No, although I enjoyed having dinner with you, that was necessity. Tonight would be pleasure. Different thing. I want to take you out. Somewhere casual but nice. Please.

Raven: Parent/teacher night. Working late.

Me: Great. So am I. I could pick you up, we can eat, and I’ll drop you home. I would really like to see you, Raven. Please.

I waited for her reply, smiling when she agreed and sent me her school address information. I smirked and didn’t tell her I already knew it. Instead, I thanked her and told her to let me know when she was ready and to wait in the school for me. She replied with a smiley face.

I set down my phone, feeling pleased.

A few moments later, my door opened and Egan Vulpe strolled in. I stood and shook his hand.

“Thanks for coming.”

He smiled widely. “You need a favor? I’m here to help. But first, coffee.”

I studied him as he poured a large mug. Egan had been a Marcus find. An expert with explosives, a computer genius, and lethal with his training, he had been a great fit with our team. Originally from Romania, he had been in Canada for over twenty years. He worked hard on his dialect, wanting to blend in. His accent was subtle, rounding out his words—unless he was angry or upset. Then you heard the harsh edge of his accent clearly.

He was tall—well over six foot five, with dark brown hair brushed high off his forehead. His shoulders were broad, his face long, and his features bespoke his heritage. Heavy brows and a thick scruff covered his chin. His intelligent brown eyes missed nothing. He sat down across from me, sipping his coffee.


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