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But she’s still alive because Griffin caught them in time. “And you didn’t get a chance to do that. Tell me the truth. Once this boss of yours finds out you didn’t complete your mission, what will he do? Do you think he’ll send someone else after her?”
“I don’t know. Probably. He doesn’t leave loose ends hanging.” No, he wouldn’t, because a man in his position can’t afford to be lazy. No doubt he’ll send somebody else to her home or her job. He might make it look like a random crime. A mugging gone wrong, maybe, or a drive-by. The possibilities make my head spin.
“Thank you very much for telling me what I wanted to know.” I take a moment to savor the way his eyes light up with fresh hope. I’m sure he imagines himself at home in no time. He thinks he’ll spend tonight in his own bed, in whatever shithole he calls home.
Which is why he lets out a pained, almost feral noise when I head for the door without another word hinting at his release. “Wait!” I glance over my shoulder and can’t help but snort at the sight of him crawling across the floor like the animal he is. “I’m supposed to go home! I told you everything I know! Please, please!”
I only step through the door, then lock it behind me. The opening at the bottom of the door allows me the pleasure of hearing his agonized wails. Let him wail. He was going to kill her and dump her body like she was nothing, all because some nameless, faceless voice over a telephone told him to do it. I know what it means to follow orders, but I can’t find a crumb of sympathy. Not when Griffin told me how terrified she was when he caught up to the car.
Tank lifts his eyebrows, waiting for his orders. “Give him another couple of days,” I decide. “Then implant a tracking device and let him go. Knock him out, do what you have to do, so long as he doesn’t know it’s there.” He nods, wearing a grim expression, and I set off for the elevator, going through a list in my head of the men who would benefit from having me bugged.
Was Dave telling the truth when he said he’d never met his boss and didn’t know where he worked? We’ll soon find out. Because if that crazy, screaming waste of life has the first clue where to find the man pulling his strings, that’s where he’ll go as soon as he’s set free. He’ll go running back to his master, pleading for mercy after being captured and held captive.
And I’ll be able to watch his every move.
But I’m not in any hurry. He can think it over a little while longer.
TEAGAN
I’ve never beenwhat you would call a paranoid person. I don’t believe in conspiracy theories and all that. I don’t go looking for hidden meaning in random events. Sometimes, there is no hidden meaning. Maybe it was losing Mom and Dad that cleared a lot of things up for me. Life is what it is, and that’s it. Looking for anything else is the same as asking to lose your mind because that’s exactly what happens.
But no matter how many times I tell myself to stop making things up, the hairs on the nape of my neck have stood straight up pretty much all day. Something’s wrong. Somebody’s watching me. Crazy, I know. I keep telling myself that, but it doesn’t help. Throughout my shift at the grocery store, while I’ve been stocking canned goods and checking out shoppers, there’s been no shaking the feeling that if I turn around fast enough, I’ll catch whoever has observed my every move all day.
Maybe I need to, I don’t know, process trauma or something like that. That’s what I went through in that car when gunshots rang out, and I didn’t know if I was going to live or die. And only seconds before that, I was sure I was heading to something awful. Something terrible would have happened if the cops hadn’t stopped us. Maybe I need to process all of that or something. All I know is I can’t shake this feeling.
“Excuse me? Hello?”
My eyelids flutter, and I force myself to stand a little straighter when I turn to face a woman glaring at me from the other side of the conveyor belt. “Yes, ma’am?”
“My change? I gave you a fifty. You put it in the drawer and didn’t give me my change.”
Dammit. I have to check her receipt to remind myself what I owe her, then open the drawer and quickly count out a few bills and some change, which I hastily hand over along with a mumbled apology. She ignores it, rolling her eyes and pushing her cart toward the door.
Clearly, I shouldn’t be facing the public in this mood. Especially when it feels like everybody is staring at me a beat too long. That, I know, is in my head. Nobody actually cares about me. I might as well be invisible most of the time—just another underpaid worker.
“Teagan?” The store manager notices me as he passes by. “Go back to the loading dock. Check over the boxes and make sure everything’s there, then sign for it.” He’s already way past me by the time he finishes giving me the order. I wonder why he’s too busy to do it himself. At least it’s an excuse to get a little air. Hopefully, it will help clear my head because I can’t spend the rest of my day like this.
It’s not a big shipment, just a few dozen cases of cereal and oatmeal, which I check against the invoice before signing off and watching the driver pull away in his truck. The strangest feeling comes over me, like I want to ask him to take me with him. I don’t care where we’re going, so long as we go away from here. Everything’s all wrong lately, and it all started when I walked into that hotel. It’s like I don’t know what’s real anymore. I don’t know who to trust.
“Excuse me. Teagan?”
Speak of the devil. I recognize Griffin immediately. He’s not the kind of guy you can miss. I was too upset and freaked out to pay much attention to his looks when we met before. Now, I take in his dark crew cut and muscular physique and wonder exactly how many hours a day the man spends at the gym.
“Griffin, right?” What is he doing back here? “Is there a problem? I need to get back inside before my manager has a fit.”
“No problem.” His smile is brief, almost like an afterthought. It disappears before I can get a good look at it. “I only have a few questions for you. I hope you don’t mind answering them for me now.”
Red flag. What is he doing tracking me down here? I didn’t tell him where I work, did I? I might have, for all I know. I wasn’t in what you’d call a good headspace when he drove me home. Everything’s a blur. Either way, he could have called me... But did I give him my number? Did he even ask for it?
Is he really a cop at all?
I haven’t agreed to be questioned, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He looks down at a little notepad, which is almost comically small in his big hand, like he’s playing with a kid’s toy. “Had you ever met either of those men before that day?”
“No.”
“And exactly why were you with them at the time, and where were you going?”
Shit. I should have known better than to think I’d get out of this without answering uncomfortable questions. “I was doing a favor for my brother. I don’t know where they were driving to.”
