Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Call the police,” I said when my elderly neighbor’s grandson stepped out of the doorway. He nodded and dashed back inside.
My heart raced with adrenaline. I was grateful I hadn’t broken under the pressure. It was a testament to my therapy and training that I could still function in a high-pressure situation. I hadn’t dissolved or frozen from fear. That was a good thing. I’d come a long way. Now, I wasn’t just fighting for me but my unborn child as well.
Police and EMTs were there in minutes, asking me to get on my hands and knees. Though I shouted that I was FBI, they were trained to cuff me and assess the situation. I tried not to be offended by how little care they took in doing so.
After I was perp walked back just inside my apartment, I was forced to stand in handcuffs until a detective finally approached me. For a second, being bound this way brought back ugly memories. I focused on my breathing as I reminded myself these were the good guys, not the bad. I would be released soon enough. I closed my eyes and saw Shawn’s face, his voice in my ear, my wrists bound with red silk.
“I’m Detective Lacey. And you are?”
The memory vanished and I opened my eyes to see a man a few inches taller than me standing too close. If not for Shawn consuming my heart and mind, I would have taken more notice of how attractive the man was. “Special Agent Tayla James,” I said and couldn’t hold out a hand because mine were handcuffed behind me.
“So I’ve heard.” Apparently, the officers had understood me even though they acted like they hadn’t. “Do you have anything to corroborate that?”
I told him where my ID was in my purse, hidden behind some clothes in my closet. It was when he pulled it out that he finally uncuffed me after contacting the bureau to confirm.
“Sorry about that. Procedure.”
When I said nothing, he went on to ask me to recount my story, which I did.
“That should be enough for now. Your door still works, though I would replace it,” he said cheekily. “I could help you with that.”
“Thanks. I think I can handle it.”
“By the way, your groceries arrived, and the perishables were put in the fridge.”
“Thanks,” I said, having forgotten all about them.
He pulled out a card. “If you can think of anything else or need a hand with that door, call me.”
His wide smile likely melted hearts, but mine already belonged to someone else. After he left, I stepped back into the living room, where a tech had just removed the bullets from the small wall between my windows.
When everyone was gone, I closed the door and stared at the nickel-sized hole splintered in my door. Had I not moved, I would be dead.
I debated on leaving or going into the office. My boss would have left by now, and I decided I wouldn’t let any asshole displace me. That didn’t make sleep come easy. I worked on my reports of the incident and what had happened to me since I was taken from that op.
Then I rested, or I tried. I fought the ghosts of Ruin and the memories of Shawn. Both haunted me through the night. I’d been wrong about Ruin not wanting me. I couldn’t think of anyone else who would try to kill me. I hadn’t worked at the FBI long enough to have enemies. But I also couldn’t’ figure out why Ruin would send someone to kill me when he’d kept me the last time. Shawn would hate that I hadn’t run and gone to hide out somewhere else. But I couldn’t run forever.
I kept my gun loaded and next to me, wondering if Shawn would show up like a knight in shiny armor. The morning did bring a guest, but not the one I expected.
30
TAYLA
I gave up on sleeping at dawn. After moving the side table in front of my bullet-hole-riddled door, I took a long, hot, much-needed shower until the water cooled against my skin.
How had Ruin known I was back? That thought had plagued me all night. The only things I could think of were either my apartment was bugged, there was a mole in Griffin’s company, or Ruin had paid someone in my complex to rat on me if I returned home. It made me more resolute in my choice of staying here. Two of those options would have still left me vulnerable in a place I didn’t know if I choose to leave.
I was in the middle of making breakfast when the landline rang.
“Hello,” I answered, not expecting anyone.
“I’m here to install your new door.”
I opened my mouth but closed it. I shouldn’t be surprised. However, Griffin’s company likely knew about the shooting through their network of spies.