got a search warrant, but by the time they raided the house, they found nothing. The card was gone, but de Chastelain was furious with me for turning over his books. I was under FBI protection when someone tried to kill me. Two agents assigned to protect me were killed, I escaped through a fluke, flew off to Brazil. End of story.â She didnât bother telling him that sheâd been shot coming out of the FBI headquarters and had gotten the rest of the story after sheâd awakened from surgery. The words just wouldnât come yet.
âI donât think so.â
âWell, itâs all youâre going to get for now. I need to get going.â
âAll right, letâs go.â
Everything about him shouted he was going with her whether she liked it or not. She didnât, but could see sheâd have no choice in the matter. Fine, he could come to the meetingâ¦then sheâd find a way to ditch him. For his own good.
Â
Anna told Lucas sheâd meet him at the car, but had to visit the ladiesâ room first. Entering the restroom, she walked to the sink to stare at the mirror above it. The room was empty, echoing every sound she made. Her breathing sounded harsh in her ears while her blood thrummed through her veins and her heart beat in rhythm to the pounding in her head.
Dumping those memories in Lucasâs lap had feltâ¦freeing somehow. And yet, at the same time, it brought even more clearly into focus her fears, and the turmoil sheâd lived with for the past four years rumbled back to the surface, making her into a boiling pot of emotions. Sheâd needed a moment to get herself together before going to see Justin, because coming face-to-face with her former supervisor was going to bring back even more unpleasant memories. Memories sheâd rather leave buried. Unfortunately, that wasnât an option.
Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. Hearing the door whoosh open behind her, she scooted into a stall, not wanting to paste on a false smile or look anyone in the eye. Locking the door behind her, she leaned against it, still lost in fighting her reaction to the memories, the fear that wanted to surface and take over.
Footsteps sounded, stopping first in front of the row of sinks, then moving toward the stalls. Her senses tuned in and she stilled, zeroing in on the sound. The steps moved heavily, sounded clunky. Steps like a man might make. She froze, then turned sideways to peer through the crack. Broad shoulders, muscles, definitely a man. She caught a brief glimpse of dark pants, a white shirt. Hiking boots? Then the person entered the stall next to her. Wrong restroom or something more?
Anna shivered, swallowed hard as she acknowledged her only protection right now was a thin metal door. She hadnât wished for a gun in four years. Today, she did. Why was she so nervous? No one knew she was here.
Adrenaline flowed freely as she pondered what to do. Should she call out? Speak? Call Lucas on her cell phone? Justin? Shifting her backpack, she set it on the back of the commode, keeping her eye on the crack in the stall.
Fingers fumbled for the phone.
Hard metal touched the back of her head. She froze. Dropped her purse. Heart pounding, fear exploding, she remembered the feel of a bullet piercing her stomach. The bullet hitting her was memory. The feel of the gun on her skull wasnât. Gritting her teeth, she couldnât do anything about the shaking as she forced the words from her mouth. âWhat do you want?â
âGo back to Brazil before you get hurt, little girl,â a voice rasped in a low whisper from up above. Heâd be standing on the toilet, hanging over the wall separating the stalls. âDonât bother calling the police. They wonât find me. This is your only warning.â With the nose of the gun, he shoved hard, knocking her off balance. Her leg hit the toilet bowl. She missed catching herself and landed on