Jeremy lounged in the living room, stretching his legs onto the coffee table and crossing them as he pressed his phone to his ear.
“You got the picture?” he asked the moment the call connected.
“There was no need. The guy’s pretty famous,” the voice on the other end replied.
“I don’t care. I want everything you can dig up on him—every little detail, right down to the time he brushes his damn teeth,” Jeremy said, his voice dripping with hatred.
“I get it, boss. But keeping tabs on Jaxon Waverly? That’s insane. The man’s a ghost. You don’t just follow him—he’s always guarded.”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, ’cause he wasn’t when I saw him this morning,” Jeremy shot back, irritation creeping into his tone. “You know what? If you can’t handle this, just say the word, and I’ll find someone who can.”
“I’ll do it, okay?—” The man’s voice cut off as Ivy stormed into the living room, her anger instantly pulling Jeremy’s attention from the call.