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“I don’t know the full story, but I’m hoping this is the first step toward figuring out what happened to her.” He looked into her eyes, and she reminded herself to breathe. “Two is always better than one. And I’m not a fool—I know you came here thinking, worst case, you’d get some information and find a way to use it against me—or at least for your own benefit,” he said, nodding understandingly. “I don’t blame you for that; I’d be doing the same thing in your situation. So I’m giving you this, no strings attached. Do with it what you want and I’ll bear any consequences for giving you classified information. You’re not the only one taking risks, Anna.”
She swallowed hard as she fought to keep her breath even. She didn’t know if he’d leaned in, or she had, but there seemed so little distance between them. It was almost the kind of moment seen in movies, where the man would lean in and brush his lips over hers.
But that was not this moment. He was holding something she wanted, and she was going to take it—she knew it before her hand reached for it.
“Why are you doing this? You don’t need to know about Olivia to break this case. You’re no doubt looking at Diaz from a million angles, all of which a prosecution would allow,” she said, careful to say everything but nothing at all, in case he was wearing a wire.
“I will use every angle I can. The drugs my brother got hooked on and overdosed on came from Diaz—and so did the bullet in his back, I’m sure. Or at least it came from one of his men. So, yes, it’s personal,” Jackson said, stealing the breath from her lungs. She already knew about his brother, but as she looked into his eyes she realized he understood her pain, and for the first time in years, she felt seen. Really seen.
Understood.
She held his gaze and heat flushed through her body. Something flickered in his eyes and she couldn’t look away, even though her mind and heart begged her to.
He didn’t move either, and she could see the war raging in his eyes.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” he whispered, his voice deeper than it had been moments before. “Let me help you.”
Anna squeezed her eyes shut. She wouldn’t fall for this. She’d learned the hard way not to rely on anyone, and she wouldn’t start now. She didn’t even know him. She couldn’t allow herself to believe in this... whatever it was.
She opened her mouth to protest when she heard his voice outside the door.
Jackson’s eyes darted in the direction of the sound of Diaz’s voice.
His eyes dropped to hers. “Take it,” he said, grabbing her hand. He put the memory card in her palm, then wrapped her fingers around it. “Hide it. Now.”
Anna jumped when a fist pounded on the door to Damon’s office.
“Gotta go,” Jackson said with a smile that made Anna pause. Maybe Jackson was actually crazy.
He darted behind the desk, pulled up the carpet underneath it, and disappeared. Anna slid the memory card between a stack of papers on the desk and then rushed toward the trap door as it was closing. Once it was fully closed, it was barely visible. Anna replaced the carpet, turned off the screen saver, loaded her email, and then walked to the door, marveling that Damon had installed an escape route and Jackson knew about it.
She realized that’s why he’d chosen Damon’s office. It was probably the reason Damon never locked the door—one day he might need to get in there quickly.
She walked toward the door, opened it, and Diaz’s fist almost pounded her face. She took a step back, raising her eyebrows.
“What are you doing?” she asked with a generous dose of saltiness.
“What are you doing is more to the point?” he asked.
“My phone ran out of battery. I was checking my email and was about to borrow Damon’s computer to pay some bills,” she lied effortlessly. The part about her phone was true—she’d meant to give it to Damon to charge when she’d arrived, but she’d forgotten. Yet again, she’d been distracted by Jackson.
Diaz didn’t say a word as he pushed past her, looking over the room.
ANNA
Moving toward the cupboard in the corner, Diaz opened it, looking behind the uniform shirts Damon kept there. Satisfied, he took another look around the room, but it was a simple office with a simple desk, a filing cabinet not big enough to hide in, and the cupboard. There were no other doors in or out—except the trap door Anna didn’t dare look at.
Anger riled through her veins. “Are you done?” she asked, her words sharp as she stood with one hand on her hip. She stayed nearer to the door than to him.
“Why was the door locked, Anna?” Diaz asked as he looked at her.
“Because I wanted some peace and quiet to pay some bills for five minutes,” she said. “Is that too much to ask?”
His jaw ground, but she wasn’t sure exactly why. Was he angry because the door was locked? Because he still didn’t trust her? Or was it because he looked stupid right now? Diaz liked to be in control. Right now, he wasn’t, and they both knew it.
He stared at her for a long moment and Anna stared back. If she looked away, if she ran now, it would all be over. If she showed any weakness, any guilt, Diaz would kill her without a second thought.
She pulled back her shoulders and locked her gaze on him, unflinching despite her racing pulse. She found herself wondering if Jackson was still close, still within hearing range, or if he’d put some distance between them in case Diaz knew about the trap door.
