Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ana brought her hands to her knees, her body shaking as she stood across the street from Wilson Porter’s townhouse and out of view of any neighboring houses that may have had cameras positioned with a view of the street.
She snatched a breath of the hot, humid air and stood upright, preparing herself to go inside. Her hand dipped into the pocket of her black hoodie for her disposable phone, and she replayed the urgent voicemail from Porter she’d missed while Kyle had been removing the takeout from the bags.
“It’s me. I’m sorry I couldn’t reach out before, but I haven’t been alone until now,” Porter said, his voice breathless.
From running? “I’m being hunted. Someone is following me.
Ran me off the road. I’ve gotta go dark, but, Ana, I found him,” he said, huffing around his words.
“Initiate the backup plan and be at the set location in precisely ninety-six hours. I’ll get him there, you have my word.
” He growled out in pain as if he’d tripped and fallen and was struggling to get up.
“And watch your back. It’s about to get ugly. ” The call ended abruptly.
She powered off the phone, knowing she’d need to destroy it tonight.
When both she and Kyle had received a call from the office alerting them to Porter’s possible disappearance, she’d urged Kyle to go to the office, and she’d meet him there.
After he left, she’d hurried to her safe to check to see if Porter had called her.
The disposable phone in her safe was only to be used between her and her boss for an emergency such as this.
One message. The contingency plan she knew would, at least temporarily, have her looking guilty as sin.
I was trained and conditioned to handle anything, Ana reminded herself, shoving away the terror working to cling to her like wet clothes during a torrential downpour.
She had to remain unshakeable. She couldn’t break now.
So, Ana kept her head low to avoid any neighborhood surveillance cameras while moving onto Porter’s property and into his backyard.
Thank God Porter was single. No kids. No dogs. No one home so she could make an easy entry.
Ana opened the screen door and stuck her key into the lock of his back door. The key was reserved for shit-hitting-the-fan kind of moments like now.
She quietly shut the door behind her and pulled out her personal cell, using the flashlight to guide her to his office. It was down the hall and two doors on the left.
Ana circumvented his desk and set her phone down, positioning it so the light shone on the wall. She eyed the framed photo of George Washington before carefully lifting and setting it on the floor by her feet.
Ana punched in the code for the safe and waited for the small door to unlock and click open.
Her shoulders fell forward in panic when she saw the box was empty.
“No,” she whispered and threw her hand inside to feel around even though it was clearly freaking empty. The backup plan was failing before it even started.
She shut and locked the door and rehung the picture, not sure what else to do aside from getting the hell out of there.
But first, she had to access Porter’s security system and erase the footage of her entry. Her being there would look suspicious, especially right after his disappearance, even if she was using a key he’d given her.
Ana started out of his office but paused in the hallway at the sound of a creaking floorboard above her. She wasn’t alone. Whoever was there must’ve come for the contents of the safe, too. And beaten her to it.
She ducked into the office, unstrapped her sidearm, and retrieved her gun. Safety off. The individual would have to walk past her whether they went to the front or back door.
But hell, there’d been no signs of forced entry in the back when she’d arrived, and she highly doubted whoever was in the house had used the front door—unless they had a key? And what did that mean?
When the sounds of footsteps grew louder, she eased farther back to catch whoever was about to walk by the office.
Her heartbeat quickened when a dark figure appeared and halted right outside the door as if sensing her presence. Based on height and bulk, it was a man, his head and face covered with a full mask, gloves on his hands. Dressed in all black like her.
The second she sensed he was about to turn, she lifted her gun and aimed it his way. “Don’t move,” she demanded, but he came at her fast, forcing her arms up into the air. She gritted down on her back teeth as they struggled with her sidearm. His hands were everywhere. Pushing. Pulling.
Ana’s back slammed against the wall, but she refused to give up, even though something inside her told her she was on the brink of losing this battle.
A knee to his groin only made matters worse when a shot got off and pierced the ceiling.
He kept her body pinned to the wall as he stopped fighting for control of her gun, and in one fast movement, he reached around to his back. With his barreled chest so close to her, she couldn’t even get her arms lowered to try and position her weapon on him.
Her eyelashes fluttered against particles of plaster falling from the ceiling.
Another knee to his dick had him hissing and growing angrier with her.
But as she stared at a pair of unnaturally colored eyes, it dawned on her he could have already shot her by now but hadn’t.
“Stop,” he growled in a too-deep-to-be-real voice. “Stop resisting.”
“Who are you?”
The man stepped back, and they both pointed their weapons at each other, breathless.
He raised a forefinger to his lips with his free hand. “We’re not alone.” The man spun toward the open doorway, then gave her one last look before taking off.
She stumbled back in surprise, prepared to pursue but hesitated at the sounds of a skirmish right before the back door banged shut.
Ana carefully entered the hall, still confused as to what in the hell just happened, then halted in surprise as a shadowy figure started her way, one hand with a gun aimed toward the ceiling, the other holding the side of his head.
“You okay?” he asked.
She attempted to adjust her eyesight to see who was standing in the hall with her.
“It’s me.”
That voice.
“Anastasia.” He teased out her full name, allowing it to slowly roll across his tongue. “The guy is gone. Are you hurt?”
“A.J.?” She edged closer to him, taking cautious steps. Once his face was in view, and she confirmed his identity, she lowered her weapon, and he did the same. “I’m fine, but what in the hell are you doing here?”
But damn it, there wasn’t time to have a conversation, especially not there. Someone may have already reported hearing the gunshot.
“We need to get out of here,” she urgently said before he’d answered her.
“I’m thinking that’s a good idea.”
“I discharged my weapon. And . . . the security cameras.” The cameras she could fix, but the spent bullet was irrefutable evidence she’d been in Porter’s house.
“There will be a secondary copy of the footage on the security company’s mainframe. You’ll need that one, too,” he said as if it were the most natural conversation in the world.
She’d been so shocked by what happened tonight, she might have missed that detail had A.J. not shown up.
“My people will handle that.” He motioned for the door. “I’ll scrub the footage that’s on-site and get the shell casing and bullet. You just get back home and wait for me there.”
“Why are you helping me?” she blurted, worried he was a figment of her imagination. An illusion. Some big trick, one like her father used to pull.
“I, um.”
He wasn’t supposed to help her, was he? And what did that mean?
A.J. reached for her hand. A surprising and comforting feeling warmed her like a security blanket.
“Please, just go. Trust me, okay?” She stared at him, eyes wide. How could she trust him when she had so many questions? But for some insane reason, she did.
She pulled her hand free and walked right out that door without a second thought.