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Or was she right to distrust a man sitting alone in a diner who had done nothing to make her distrust him except not look familiar?
But Anna wasn’t the only one watching him.
JACKSON
“Who is that guy sitting at the second table?” Jackson asked from the warmth and safety of his car while Anna sat across from the devil.
“A civilian. We haven’t identified him as a person of interest,”Will said through Jackson’s earpiece.
She’d gone to the warehouse. He hadn’t followed her, but he’d hidden a tiny camera in the lower basement room. He had to know if she went there, because that would change everything. It meant he had a chance.
He rubbed his palm on his thigh, calming his nerves.
Jackson needed her to break open this case, but he also needed her alive. Diaz already had men following her, which was going to make this harder than anticipated. If she cooperated with him, and Diaz found out, he’d kill her. There was no doubt about that. Her blood would be on his hands.
He needed to make sure he could protect her and that they could make sure Diaz was put away for life.
He owed her that.
He also needed to find out what happened to Olivia.
He owed her that too.
Fear was a strange thing: it had the power to steal your breath and torture your mind with things that had not even happened.
Jackson took a deep breath, calming his racing mind.
“They’re on the move,”Will said.
Jackson watched everything around him now. Every piece of information was key. He’d been in this parking lot for over forty minutes; he’d watched who pulled up, who got out of their car, and who didn’t.
Now he needed to see who was following Diaz, because not all of them had arrived with Diaz. The earlier arrivals were following Anna, and Jackson needed to know how many guys Diaz had on her and what he was up against.
Whatshewas up against.
Two cars in the far corner of the parking lot purred to life—two cars that blended in perfectly with the regular crowd at Sloan’s. New trucks, but not too new. A nice truck, not too nice. Not too flashy.
The person with the flashiest car—by far—was Anna.
Jackson thought about that again, and it made him smile. The car suited her. Fearless, fast, unapologetic. And difficult to follow. They’d tried several times to follow her home, but none of their cars could keep up with hers.
Jackson knew the men who’d followed Anna drove Mercedes—AMGs. They needed power to keep up with her, and if they parked in the parking lot, a vehicle like that would’ve piqued her interest, so they were parked on the streets: one three blocks to the left, and another two blocks to the right. Diaz was covering his bases, making sure he didn’t lose sight of her. The men who did the leg work were the ones in the trucks.
One drove away now, exiting the parking lot and turning left.
Jackson’s gaze swept the parking lot nervously. Every day since he’d followed her, the guys doing the leg work waited until she drove away.
So, why was this car leaving now?
Was it because Diaz was with her?
Maybe they were leaving in the same car?
Anna emerged from the back door with Diaz a step behind her. She smiled at something he said, her shoulders low and relaxed. She dangled a set of keys in one hand.
Three men followed behind Diaz—his security. He didn’t need them in front, because his men in the trucks would’ve given his security the all clear.
“Do you have visual on the two trucks that just exited the parking lot?” Jackson asked.
