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She watched him for a few moments as he stared up at the night sky, seemingly as bored as a child on a thirteen-hour flight. She felt a twinge of remorse as she made her decision, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. She was no saint, and she had always been honest: she was in this for revenge. Everything she had done for the last three years was for Olivia and she was too far in to stop now.
She darted from tree to tree, using them for cover.
Her target was still staring up at the sky.
Anna came in from the side and wrapped her arm across his throat, taking him by surprise. He bucked against her, but she was strong. She didn’t work out purely for enjoyment—it was part of her strategy.
She managed to hold him until he slumped in her arms. She leaned forward, still holding him, as she gulped in the cold night air, grateful for the chilly Missouri autumn.
She dropped him like a sack of bricks, moved to the door, placed her hand on the doorknob, and slowly turned it.
She paused, listening.
Not gunshots greeted her. No voices indicated anyone was inside.
She peered in, but it was hard to see more than a few feet. The room was dark save for some light filtering in from another room.
But the smell was odd. Her nose scrunched up, and she straightened. It was a strange smell, like the inside of a refrigerator, but the warehouse didn’t feel cooler than the air outside.
Anna brushed it aside; she didn’t have time to think about it right now. Her eyes swept over the room of storage racks, like one would find in a building supply store. She wondered if these were part of the operation, or if the factory had come fitted out with them.
Either way, open shelves were not useful for hiding a body.
Then she saw it.
A red barrel.
She ran toward it, opening the lid—but it was empty.
She went back to the door, grabbed the legs of her unconscious victim, and dragged him into the dome. She grimaced when his head bounced on the concrete step, but it didn’t slow her down. Anna dragged him all the way to the barrel and then, with a heaving grunt, levered his body into the barrel. It was a blessing the target she’d chosen was a small man. Still, she was breathless once again as she lowered the lid.
She didn’t know how long he’d be unconscious, and a voice inside her head told her to slit his throat.
Maybe it was Jackson’s influence, but she didn’t do it.
She walked away from the voice and away from the barrel. She planned to be out of the warehouse before he awoke.
She pulled her pistol from its holster and raised it, walking to the slightly ajar door that light beamed behind. She paused, listening for voices.
She heard two men talking, sounding a ways off, but she didn’t recognize their voices.
Get in and out, Anna. Get what you need. End this.
She continued listening for a moment, making sure she hadn’t incorrectly evaluated the situation—then she slowly, quietly, pried the door open enough that she could make a proper assessment.
Her eyes widened in surprise.
Equipment was secured to every inch of the floor. Conveyer belts, ovens, funnels with various powders. She’d been expecting some kind of operation, but this was mind-blowingly huge.
The good news was the equipment provided cover for her.
She snapped a few photographs with her phone then tucked it back into her pocket.
If Diaz saw them, her life would be over.
But if he saw her here, her life would be over before she had to worry about him checking her phone.
Get in and out, Anna.
