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“What bills do you need to pay? Show me,” Diaz said, unflinchingly.
“Wow,” Anna muttered under her breath as she made a show of looking away, jutting her jaw. But she’d expected this, and she’d lied quickly and efficiently because that’s how she had survived this long.
She looked back at him with hard eyes. She stormed toward the desk, grabbed the spare charger from Damon’s top drawer—this wasn’t the first time Anna had borrowed it—and charged her phone. Neither said a word while they looked at it, waiting for enough power to transfer to bring it to life. After a long, silent moment, Anna turned it on, opened her email list, and held the screen in front of Diaz’s face. She had three bills to pay, and they were all due tomorrow, but that wasnotthe reason she was in Damon’s office.
His face softened and he looked away.
“Satisfied?” Anna asked, her anger making that one word sound as cutting as a freshly sharpened sword.
Diaz had the grace to close his eyes briefly, sigh, then look back to her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know who I can trust right now.”
Anna shook her head. “You need to get a grip,” she said, knowing full well those words weren’t going to calm him down. “Seriously, what did you think was going on in here?”
“You locked the door, Anna,” Diaz said, justifying his actions even though he’d apologized seconds ago. This was typical behavior from Diaz.
“I was about to load private information on Damon’s computer, including logging in to my online banking. You know how I am with that stuff—so you really think I’m going to load my bank details on the screen for anyone to see if they walked in? Regardless of that, if I want five minutes alone, I will take five minutes alone. It’s been a hell of a few days. Now, if you’re done searching for... I don’t even know who or what... you can leave. I’ll meet you at the bar in five minutes.”
Diaz’s eyes softened. “Don’t be mad at me, Anna.”
Yet again Anna found herself asking the same thing she did every time he gave that apology: did he really think she believed he was sorry?
“I’ll meet you at the bar,” she said, taking a seat at Damon’s desk. She turned to the computer without another look in his direction.
A moment passed and then his footsteps sounded toward the door.
Diaz closed it behind him and Anna exhaled, squeezing her eyes shut.
She used the time to pay her bills, because doing something “normal” gave her a sense of control.
Control she felt was slipping.
She didn’t know if she was on edge because Diaz was, or because Jackson was an unexpected twist in her plan. Everything had shifted this past week and she was second-guessing everything.
She no longer felt safe like she had in the past. She no longer felt sure of her plan.
Anna had always told herself to wait for the right opportunities, to not be rash. The problem was, she didn’t know if Jackson was an opportunity or a death wish.
You don’t have to do this alone.
Jackson’s words were like a lullaby to her cold heart.
Anna rested her elbows on the desk, putting her face in her hands.
She was tired of living Anna White’s life. Achingly tired. She wanted it over. She wanted to return to Anna King.
Just a little longer,she told herself.
She replayed the moment Jackson gave her the memory card, cupping it in her hands. She replayed how good his touch felt, how it warmed her cold, lifeless soul.
The gentleness of his strong hand, the woody, refreshing scent of his cologne. The way he looked at her—like he really saw her. No one had looked at her like that in years.
She willed herself to stop, but it played over and over in her mind.
She exhaled a long breath, opened her eyes, and loaded her internet banking, wiping the thoughts from her mind.
Jackson was not her savior.
No one was coming to save her.
