Chapter 3 #2
“Paranoia keeps people alive,” Eleanor said, still looking forward. “The Bellantes have reach. They’ve had people in place for years. That doesn’t go away.”
I shook my head. “I’m not worth that much trouble.”
Her mouth pressed in a thin line, but she didn’t argue.
Through the glass, I watched the way Kara moved.
Her gaze didn’t sweep so much as settle.
One pause at the awning, another at the alley mouth, the faintest tilt of her head toward a second-floor window across the street.
The man with the takeout bag came into view, and Kara’s weight shifted almost imperceptibly, her free hand loose at her side.
Only when the man turned the corner did Kara move again, stepping back so the front door framed her in shadow.
When she nodded, Eleanor unbuckled. “Come on. We want to get inside fast.”
I stepped out. The late-day air carried the smell of fried food from the corner stand. Eleanor kept pace on my right, her shoulder just ahead of mine.
Kara held the building’s glass door open, then followed us inside. The rhythm of our footsteps echoed in the small lobby. My heels clicked; their boots made a duller sound against the tile.
Another silent elevator ride up, and we were on my floor. Kara unlocked the door, pushed it open a few inches, and scanned the interior before stepping in.
“Clear,” she said.
I walked in after her, the scent of the eucalyptus candle I burned every night meeting me at the door. Light spilled across the hardwood from the tall windows, the skyline framed in pale blue and gold.
The loft looked just as I’d left it that morning. My desktop tower sat on the corner desk, twin monitors dark beside a stack of notebooks. The heavy bank box full of reasons people wanted me dead sat next to my desk.
Kara’s eyes went straight to those windows. “Anyone with binoculars could watch you from the street. From that building over there. From the parking garage a block away.” She pointed as she spoke, tracing each line of sight.
I set my bag on the couch. “This is my home, not a security post.”
“Right now, you’re exposed,” she said. “One wrong move, one bad habit, and you’re finished.”
My gaze shifted to the desk. I’d never thought twice about who might be looking at me while I was working, writing. Going through that damned box. “I need to bring that computer. And that box.”
“Not happening,” she said without looking away from the glass.
“No, you don’t understand. If I lose either of those things, my life is worth nothing, and the Bellantes walk away scot-free.”
She turned to look at me for a moment. “The other team will come behind us and collect them after you’re secure.” Her tone didn’t invite discussion.
I turned toward the windows, brushing my fingers over the leaves of a plant on the sill. Eleanor stepped closer, tilting the pot slightly to check the soil.
“You’ve kept this alive for a while,” she said.
“Five years,” I replied. “It was a gift from my mother.”
Her eyes lingered on mine a half-second too long, like she was measuring what it would take to get the rest of that story. She nodded toward the books on the table. “You’ve read all of these?”
“Most of them.” Her interest was quiet, unforced, and it took the sting out of Kara’s bluntness.
Kara kept moving, her attention passing from the door to the kitchen, then back to the windows. “If we had to defend this space, those windows would be the first problem.”
“They’re my favorite part of this place,” I said.
“They’re someone else’s advantage.”
I wanted to tell her to stop, but Eleanor caught my eye, and the sharp reply died in my throat. She looked at me like she saw more than the layout of the loft.
“Show me what you need to take,” Kara said.
Her tone left no room for argument, but my hands still curled into fists at my sides.
I walked toward the bedroom, their boots following on the hardwood.
My bedroom felt smaller with all three of us in it.
Kara’s shoulder brushed mine as she reached for the closet door.
Eleanor stood just behind me, close enough that the warmth of her breath skimmed my neck when she spoke.
“You have five minutes.”
“Five minutes to pack everything? Or… where am I going?”
“You’ll know when you need to,” Kara said, taking a pair of heels from my hand and setting them back on the shelf. “You can’t run in those.”
“They’re not for running.”
“Then they’re not coming.”
I pulled a small suitcase from under the bed. Jeans, T-shirts, and a sweater went in first. I reached for a dress I liked, but Kara shook her head.
“You’re packing for mobility,” she said.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
Her eyes met mine, cold and steady. “I decide everything until this is over.”
Eleanor moved to the dresser. “Any medication or essentials, grab them now. Sentimental things if they’re small.”
I stood on my toes to reach the top shelf of the closet and pulled down a worn shoebox. “This is coming.”
Kara’s eyes narrowed. “What’s in it?”
“None of your business.”
She took the box from me, gave it a quick shake, then set it in the suitcase without comment, leaving the room.
Eleanor held the dress out to me. “Pack it. Just understand, you’ll have eyes on you now. Your address is public record. They won’t need to look hard to find you.”
I zipped the suitcase. “You’re overestimating my importance.”
“Or you’re underestimating theirs,” she said. “Time’s up. We need to move.” Her gaze dipped briefly to my mouth before she extended her hand. “By the way, you can call me Ellie.”
I had questions but kept my mouth shut as I shook her hand. It wasn’t the kind of moment for answers.