She jogged in place, then did some stretches. And as she did, a sense of déjà vu ran through her and she wondered if this might be a mistake. She shrugged off the feeling. The outdoors, fresh air and a bit of freedom were calling to her. After all, what could happen on a street she knew well where not a car had gone by in almost an hour. She couldn’t be any safer. She pushed the doubts from her mind and went to get her sneakers.
Chapter Eleven
Travis’s phone buzzed once.
“You’ve got trouble,” Serene said without hesitation. “There’s an intruder at your client’s condo. I had a visual on the surveillance camera. Gangly, wearing a black hoodie. In the last few seconds they’ve slipped off the monitor. I didn’t get much of a look. Couldn’t determine sex, age, nothing.”
“I saw the intruder earlier. I’m already on my way,” Travis said. “Thanks for the details.”
“It’s worse. Just prior to that the client phoned me. She told me that she is going jogging.”
“What? Tell me you stopped her. When did this happen?”
“I told her not to do it. But she disconnected before I could make a convincing argument. It was immediately after that that I got the visual on the intruder.” Her voice was laced with frustration and concern. “Since then, I’ve called her numerous times. She’s not answering.”
“Where’s Devon?” he growled out the question. While he hadn’t given the order for twenty-four-hour surveillance yet, it was still expected that the marshals were twenty-four-seven in touch. Devon had been free to go for a break, thirty minutes or so at a time. What he hadn’t been free to do was be out of contact.
As far as the twenty-four-hour surveillance, that was new and the onus was on him to let his men know. He’d been on his way to do that. In the meantime, Devon needed to be answering his phone. He’d been going back to Kiera’s property anyway, he’d tell Devon then. A delay of minutes wasn’t a concern, or so he’d thought at the time. It seemed only minutes ago when Kiera had contacted him to let him know everything was fine. She’d been reading a book, relaxed. Everything was okay.
“Have you contacted Devon?”
“I tried. No answer,” Serene replied with frustration lacing her words. “I don’t like this. One of them should be answering their phone. Something’s wrong.”
His heart thumped at the scene she was painting. He could only guess at why Kiera had contacted Serene instead of Devon or him. But why hadn’t she contacted Devon or him instead? Why had she said she was reading a book one minute and then phoned Serene to say she was going jogging? Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. The book was a smoke screen. He wouldn’t have been as easy as Serene to skirt around. He would have demanded that she put the notion of jogging aside well before she’d had the opportunity to hang up. In fact, he would have anticipated that reaction, and he would have laid down the law before she’d ever stated her purpose. He would have used her own suspicions against her, and he knew that would have stopped her.
“Damn,” Travis said. The curse was mild and didn’t make him feel any better. He wanted to say so much worse and that wouldn’t change anything either. He took a breath. They needed a physical presence, to stand between Kiera and danger.
“There’s been nothing in the last thirty seconds or so,” Serene said.
“I’ve got this.” He disconnected and at the same time bore down on the accelerator. He was speeding in an area that was industrial, free of pedestrians, where he wouldn’t endanger anyone. But, within minutes, he was back in a residential area and again had to watch his speed.
He gripped the wheel, his palms sweaty, his lips tight. Where was she? What was she doing? Was she safe or... He couldn’t think of the latter, of the possibilities.
She was in danger with no one to defend her. Her bag had never been found. There’d been a death threat. Was it possible that someone knew where she lived? It was no question. Time was against him but despite that, he knew that he had to get there in time to intervene. He had the wheel in a death grip. That she’d gone against his advice was more than frustrating. At the same time, he realized why she’d done it. She was going stir crazy. He would feel the same in her situation. But he hoped all that didn’t make her feel that it was worth the risk. Still, he could picture her checking the neighborhood, seeing no one and feeling safe. Odds were she was but he wasn’t good with odds.
This was his fault. He should have realized that she needed to get out. That she needed to do something other than sit in her condo. He should have facilitated that, arranged safe outings in order to prevent this situation from happening.
He was as close to panic as he’d ever been. He called Kiera again. It was the third time. Like the other calls, it went straight to voice mail. He bit back his frustration. There was someone casing her condo and neither she nor Devon were answering their phones.
“Sweet hell,” Travis muttered under his breath. He sped up when he could. And, within seconds, again found himself easing off the accelerator. He coasted through a red light on a street that was empty of other vehicles or pedestrians. He ordered Siri to dial Devon again. The phone rang and rang—no one answered.
Frustrated, he slammed the palm of his hand against the steering wheel. Two blocks and he turned the corner heading for a route where speed would not be an issue. Just as he thought that, a cargo truck pulled out in front of him.
He swore again as he swerved around the three-quarter-ton lumber truck. Minutes passed, and the distance closed. Five more blocks. Five blocks of not knowing if she was safe or what might be happening. A murderer could very well be about to take another victim.
He couldn’t think of any other reason why the trespasser was there. He didn’t believe in coincidence. He didn’t believe in a lot of things. But what he believed right now scared him like nothing ever had. Kiera’s life was in danger. He knew that instinctively. That was one thing he never questioned, his instincts.
He took the corner at a speed that laid rubber on the pavement. Two blocks to go. A woman walking her dog stepped out and he swerved around them. He could see her in the rearview mirror. She was pumping her fist at him with the dog yanking on its lead and barking at him. He slowed down. He gripped the wheel, his lips compressed.
Two more blocks.
Would he be too late? The thought of that repeated like a metronome in his head, the beat dull and relentless, moving toward possible doom.
He couldn’t be too late. He had to make it on time.
He couldn’t believe that this was happening. He’d made his last drive by Kiera’s place at eleven o’clock last night. At that time, he’d run into Devon and been given a bit of a hard time about getting too attached to a client, and about stepping in when he wasn’t needed. He was right. He didn’t need to be there. It was Devon’s shift. As a result, he’d taken the ribbing as it was meant—joking laced with truth. He and Devon went a long way back. They’d gone to the university together and been friends ever since.
He dialed Devon’s phone again. No answer.
If something happened to her...or Devon... It was a possibility he hadn’t considered until now. But it was Kiera he worried about most. She was the target.
He had to remain focused. He took the last corner with a screech of tires.
* * *
KIERA HADN’T LIKED the FBI contact’s reaction to her phone call. She didn’t like being told what to do or not do. She hadn’t called to get their permission. She’d called only as a courtesy. Despite the threatening phone calls, she felt safe in her own house and in her own neighborhood. She hadn’t been out alone, or at all, since she’d welcomed Travis to the neighborhood. She smiled as she remembered that greeting. Her gun in his face wasn’t exactly welcoming. Fortunately, Devon had had a more civilized introduction.
But all that was behind her. Now she was sick of her restrictions. Staying indoors had been fi
ne those first days but now she’d begun to feel slightly claustrophobic. It was either get outside or go insane. She had a bad case of cabin fever.
The neighbor’s dog was quiet. She’d used him as a barometer since she’d moved in. If there was a stranger in the area, he barked. She could usually hear him even if he was inside. The silence gave her comfort. Nothing was afoot, at least nothing that the dog had sensed. And, even if it was, she had her gun. It was in the gun belt that she’d purchased when she’d first inherited the weapon. The last time she’d worn it had been to the shooting range. It could be used two different ways, concealed and unconcealed. It could hide quite nicely under a T-shirt worn near the beltline, so she wouldn’t be frightening the neighbors with an in-your-face weapon. And she wouldn’t be unarmed either.
She looked at her watch. Devon had told her that he’d be back in half an hour. That was forty-five minutes ago.
She bent down to make sure her shoelace was tied.
It was time to reclaim her life, one little piece at a time.
Chapter Twelve
Travis felt as if time had run out. He couldn’t stop the panicked feeling of doom. It was like nothing he’d felt before. And even though he was close to Kiera’s condo, he wasn’t close enough.
Every minute made the possibility that Kiera was injured or worse, all the more real. He needed to floor the accelerator and yet he couldn’t. Running over a pedestrian or causing an accident wasn’t the answer. Two tragedies would not fix anything.
Kiera.
Was she safe? What had happened since the last time he’d spoken to her? He tried to keep his mind off the possibilities. But his mind wouldn’t stop reeling through the what-ifs and might-have-beens. He was afraid that he’d be too late. He couldn’t take his mind off that possibility.
He parked at the end of the avenue that met with her street. He couldn’t take the SUV any farther, not without making his presence known to whoever was lurking around her unit. From here he could see down her street. There was no activity, no cars, no people. Despite everything, despite a heartbeat that was revved for action, on the street everything appeared normal. He closed the driver’s door with a controlled shut meant to be soundless. For he didn’t know where the intruder might be or if they were gone. He went in on foot, across the lawn along the outside of the condos. Each building was three stories with two units on every floor. Her unit was on the main floor. As he moved along, he scoured the area for movement, for anything out of the ordinary.
Nothing.
Her building was in the middle of the block and the intruder could be anywhere, if he was here at all. Not even a dog’s bark broke the silence. There was no one in sight as he came closer to her unit. There was nothing to indicate trouble.
Kiera might already be injured or worse. He needed her safe. He wouldn’t have it any other way and yet his mind was already going to much more dire possibilities. The intruder had broken into her place. He should have called her, warned her. Kiera injured—dead, the unwanted possibility ran through his mind.
Not possible. Anger fueled his denial. He refocused his thoughts, focusing on the situation only, factoring emotion out of it. This was business first—emotion had no place, never had—and even now, he told himself futilely, it never would.
He had his gun in both hands. There were few people home now. He’d done the research days earlier. The block included not only the condos but single-family homes across the street. Most of the residents on the block were daytime workers of various kinds. The mix of people included six middle school children and two high schoolers. They were gone for the day. The others, four seniors, one unemployed and one night worker, were in the minority and what they might think should they look out a shuttered window was not a consideration. As long as they stayed indoors, there was no problem. He cleared his mind as he moved across front lawns, keeping under cover as much as possible until he was at her condo. There was nothing out of the ordinary. The blinds were down as he’d told Kiera to keep them. The condos on either side were silent; the driveways were empty. But none of that was unusual, it was a working-class neighborhood and it was the middle of the day. Outside, there was no sign of Kiera. Was she out jogging as she’d said she would be?
He moved along the perimeter. He needed to make sure the area was safe, the threat gone before he checked on her. There was a bank of shrubs on the west side of the building. It was an end unit, so whoever had been casing her place could well have moved around or even be inside. His grip tightened on the gun handle and anger was white-hot in his gut at the thought that someone might be threatening her. But there was no sign of forced entry from the front. That left the back. He turned to go in that direction and that’s when he sensed something was off. That’s when the small hairs rose on the back of his neck and he felt that he wasn’t alone.
* * *
SOMETHING WASN’T RIGHT.
The feeling had been strong enough for Kiera to give up the idea of jogging more than five minutes ago. She’d done one circuit of the block and stopped midway through a second. A feeling of déjà vu and a chill swept through her at the same time. Everything felt still, too still, and a knot had formed in her gut as she felt as if she’d been transported to a place she’d been before—a dark, frightening place. The quiet, the feeling of being alone and the only person outside had overwhelmed her and she’d ended her jog. There was something not right and her instincts screamed for her to return home. If there was one thing she’d learned after the nightmare she’d survived was to follow her instinct. So instead of continuing her jog, she’d gone inside where she’d double-checked the door locks, front and back. Then, she put her sneakers away. In her socked feet, she went to the bedroom, opened the nightstand and took her aunt’s gun from under her t-shirt. She hesitated before putting it away. The weapon felt foreign and cold in her hand; even the memories it invoked of her aunt were gone. A chill ran through her, for nothing seemed as it should be. Something was shifting, something dark and gray and... Something was very wrong. Her intuition was in overdrive. She opened the drawer and took the gun back out.
With her other hand, she reached for her phone. The prepaid Travis had gotten for her was so small in comparison to her smartphone that she’d forgotten twice where she’d put it. Now it was gone, again.
She frowned. She traced her steps back. Her mind had been on Devon’s phone and how he’d forgotten it. She hadn’t been thinking about where she’d placed her phone and now she couldn’t remember where she’d set it. With her mind on the missing phone, she placed the gun on the end table.
“Irresponsible,” she muttered.
She glanced around and got down on her hands and knees. Finally, she found it under the couch cushions where, if anyone had called, she’d never have heard it. She guessed that it had slipped out of her pocket after she’d called and alerted the woman in charge of her surveillance of her intent to go jogging. She’d been sitting on the couch when she’d made the call and she’d thought that she’d slipped the phone into her pocket. Obviously, it had slipped out.
She looked out the window. Nothing had changed and yet her gut was tight and strumming like a wrong note playing again and again. She looked at her watch. Devon had left to grab lunch and assured her he’d be back in thirty minutes or less. If there was trouble, as she sensed now, she’d phone Travis. He was her go-to man anyway, the one she depended on. The truth was there’d been something building between them from the very beginning.
“What the hell are you thinking, girl?” she chastised herself. She was acting like a woman in love, or more aptly in lust, rather than a woman in crisis.
The street was silent. The last vehicle she had seen seemed like forever ago. It had belonged to a neighbor at the end of the block. She turned and put the gun on the end table. There was no threat. It had been her imagination. She was overreacting again. But she couldn’t help it. She’d been through
things that most people never face in a lifetime. She needed time. She knew that. She went to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. She added a dash of sugar to the dark brew and carried the drink back to the living area. Seconds ticked slowly by and felt like minutes. She set the coffee down by the gun.
She picked up a book. Despite the fact that it was the latest cozy mystery by her favorite author, it held no interest. Somehow reading about crime of any sort wasn’t comforting. But she needed something to do. She’d cleaned the house thoroughly two days ago and there wasn’t a dust ball anywhere. She thought of Prairie Seniors’ Care Home and realized how much she missed the work and the people.
She was itching to go back, to be useful again. She smiled as Lucy wove herself between her legs with a deep, satisfied purr. Then the cat leaped up beside her and curled up for a nap. She thought of the cat’s easy nature and how she’d settled quickly into her new home. Now, six months later, they were a team—both considered each other family, or so Kiera would like to think.
She looked at her watch. Two minutes had gone by and it had seemed like forever. She was feeling particularly anxious and she wasn’t sure why. She’d opened the blinds at an angle that she could see out, but no one could see in. It was against Travis’s warning. But she needed to see what was going on—so far nothing.
Something moved at the edge of her condo. She didn’t have a full view from her window and her heart raced before relief rushed through her.
Travis.
She’d recognize him anywhere.
Wanted By The Marshal (American Armor Book 1) Page 9
