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She couldn’t fathom what might be inside the envelope—and it was probably best she didn’t know, at least until she handed it over to Diaz.
“Who am I meeting at Sloan’s?” she asked.
“Ryley will give it to you. Don’t interact with anyone right now until I know how deep this betrayal runs,” he said.
It wasn’t the Feds that Diaz feared. It was the rival leader.
A rival leader who had called Diaz, laughing, and emailed him proof they’d known Alex was talking to the Feds. He said they had more information Diaz would need, but it would come at a price.
Diaz wasn’t stupid—he knew what they were doing, and Anna knew Diaz would find a way to use this to his advantage. Diaz couldn’t be messed with that easily—she should know. You could never fully predict what he’d do next.
That was the scariest thing about Diaz—sometimes he did things that made no sense. Despite her resentment toward him, he’d taught her a lot over the years and the biggest lesson was: never, ever, let anyone—even someone you trust—fully into your mind. Never reveal all your cards, because human beings would ultimately do what was best for them.
At least that was true in the world they lived in.
Diaz stopped pacing, his eyes dropping to his wrist and the hundred-thousand-dollar watch that was strapped to it. “I have to go,” he said before leaving without another word or a kiss goodbye.
That suited Anna perfectly.
She watched through the blinds as Diaz drove away then went in search of Miss Casino.
Anna stepped into her backyard and saw her little black cat curled up in the sun amongst the sunflowers.
She sat down on the edge of the small wooden deck and watched her for a few moments, thinking about the symbolism.
Anna wasn’t big on superstition or even religion—she’d never stepped foot inside a church—but she had planted those sunflowers because they were Olivia’s favorite flower. So many times when Miss Casino escaped the house because Diaz came over, Anna found her there, nestled amongst them, baking in the Missouri heat.
She looked over her tiny courtyard. This townhouse wasn’t much, but she’d bought it on her own, and it was her refuge. It was the first real home she’d ever had. As kids they’d bounced around between their mother and father—who despised each other so fiercely Anna still wondered how they’d ever conceived two children together. She supposed it hadn’t always been like that, but every year their parents became more dysfunctional and her mother’s new boyfriend had been a piece of work. He’d hit Anna’s mother, he’d even hit Olivia, but he never laid a hand on Anna. She didn’t know if he’d sensed what she was capable of—the darkness inside her—but if he had, he was smart enough to stay away from her.
Anna’s eyes dropped to her wrist, to a much humbler watch. Her plastic Swatch with a cartoon cat on it was a reminder of her plan every time she looked at it. Her obsession with cats didn’t start just because she was lonely, but because they represented what she needed to be: watchful, silent, secretive, with nine lives.
And until she knew exactly what Diaz was up to, she had to remain vigilant.
Her life was at stake.
Anna spent the rest of the day doing mundane chores around the house. Unlike most people, she craved doing chores. Maintaining a house and keeping it orderly was her only sense of normalcy.
When she pushed the shopping cart down the aisle, carrying her grocery list in her hand, she felt like she had a grasp on her life. In those moments, she was so far removed from her life with Diaz that for a few precious hours she let herself forget her mission, let herself forget the pain of why she was doing what she was doing.
Every day she told herself it wasn’t forever.
That one day she could leave it all behind.
But not until she finished.
She would not stop until justice had been served.
And she was going to serve it like a dish from hell.
She held on to that feeling, visualizing how good it would feel.
That feeling kept her going whenever doubt crept up her throat when she was alone in bed at night, staring at the ceiling.
Unwanted thoughts—they were like demons in the darkness, seeping into her mind like a disease. They made her weak until she thought of Olivia and knew nothing, and no one, could stop her now.
She pulled her car into the broken asphalt parking lot of Sloan’s and looked around. No one was in any of the cars; there were no shadows that shouldn’t be there.
She grabbed her purse, which concealed a pistol, and tucked another one into the hidden pocket in her jacket. She’d learned to sew over the years and was quite good at it—she could add a pocket to almost any item of clothing. In her career, pockets came in very handy.
