stood and paced from one end of the room to the other. Then he turned and said, “Tell me about the first time someone tried to kill you.”
She shuddered and his heart pinched at the distress on her pretty face. A face strained and drawn with the stress that had become her life. “Not my favorite topic of conversation.”
“Come on. I need to hear the details.” He gestured toward the other chair and said, “Have a seat.”
Gina rubbed her eyes, gathered her strength and started. “I had just gotten home from work, having closed on a great house. Everything had gone smoothly, and I was feeling better than I had in months. When I got to my house, I didn’t notice anything wrong. My neighbor pulled into his drive about the same time I did, and I remember waving to him. He waved back and walked to get his mail. I walked up to the door and it was locked. I had to use my key like always.” She swallowed, closing her eyes as she visualized each detail of that day. “I opened the door, stepped inside and someone grabbed me from behind. He put something over my head.” Her breathing became shallow pants at the remembered terror. She had been certain she was going to be raped and killed.
Ian’s hand reached over and grasped hers, holding it in an almost painful grip. She flexed her fingers and he let go. “Sorry.”
Clasping her hands together between her knees, she hunched her shoulders, took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Leaning back and staring at the ceiling, she said, “I managed a pretty good scream before they stuffed a rag in my mouth. If they were going to kill me, I was going to make them work for it. I kicked one, got my hand free and managed to get the rag out of my mouth. I remember screaming again.”
This time his hand squeezed her shoulder, and she could feel the tension emanating from him in waves. “I’m sorry to make you recount this, but I’ve got to hear it.”
“I know. It’s all right. It’s just…” She shook her head and he encouraged her with the compassion in his eyes. “Then the one who had me from behind whispered in my ear, ‘Scream again and I’ll slit your throat. Now, where is it?’ He pulled the rag from my mouth and I asked him what he was looking for. He said, ‘Mario stole something from my boss and he wants it back.’”
“What did his voice sound like?” Ian interrupted. “Did he have an accent?”
Gina scrunched her nose as she tried to remember the voice and not the fear. “Maybe a slight one. He whispered so I can’t…no, he didn’t have any kind of distinguishable accent.” Then her head shot up to look him in the eye. “But the other guy did. In fact, I think he spoke a couple of Spanish words.”
Ian raised a brow. “Spanish, huh?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Then what happened?”
“I screamed that I didn’t know what he was talking about, that Mario never told me about anything he stole. Then my neighbor was banging on my door, yelling my name and asking if I needed help. That’s when we could hear the sirens coming down the street. The man holding me shoved me to the floor, and then they all ran out the back. At about that time my neighbor kicked the door in and said he’d called the police when he’d heard me screaming and through the window could see me struggling with someone.”
Ian ran a hand over his face. “Thank God your neighbor was home.”
“I know. He was early that day and so was I. I usually go to the gym around that time, but in spite of feeling so great about the sale, I had a headache and wanted to go home and lie down for a bit.”
“So you changed your routine that day.”
“Just a little, yes.”
“They probably weren’t expecting you to show up.”
“You mean I surprised them?”
“Yeah. If they wanted to get in your house to do a search, most likely they’d been watching you for a while to get a good idea of your routine.”
“And I picked that day to alter it.” She closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Unfortunately.” Ian stood and paced to the other end of the room, then back. “And that started it. They may have been trying to find whatever it was that Mario had without involving you, but once you walked in on them…”
Gina nodded and frowned. “So that’s why it took them six months to come after me?”
“Maybe. And yet why let on that they were looking for something specific? They could have just acted like it was a robbery and left without saying anything.”
Silence descended, surrounding them as they lost themselves in their thoughts.
“They’re out of options,” Gina stated quietly.
Ian focused in on her. “What do you mean?”
“They’ve probably been looking for whatever it is that Mario took since the day he died. Six months later they still haven’t found it. I’m the only link left.”
An almost imperceptible nod came from Ian. “You could be right.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Well, we keep searching and keep avoiding whoever’s after you until we find it.”
“I have a feeling that’s going to be easier said than done.”
Ian shrugged. “Guess we’re going to find out. I called a buddy of mine, Jason Sutton. He’s going to bring us some supplies. Stuff my sister can’t get her hands on or I’d have her bring it.”
Recognition lit her dark eyes. “I know Jase.” Then a frown formed between her brows. “But I don’t know that Mario trusted him anymore. I know they had some kind of conflict going on shortly before Mario died. Unfortunately, I don’t think Mario trusted any of the guys from his unit.” Her gaze softened as she stared at him, and a flicker of confusion passed over her pretty features. “Just you. He trusted you. Why?”
Discomfort made him turn from her straightforward look. He couldn’t share that information with her—yet. Under the guise of checking the street, he walked to the window, stepped to the side and pulled back the curtain a mere centimeter.
Nothing.
He turned back to her. She still waited for his answer.
“Mario knew I’d never do anything to hurt him. Ever. I guess he realized that in time and—” he paused and shrugged “—sent you to me. Also because…” He stopped, the rest of his answer hovering on his lips.
A knock at the door sounded.
Pulling his gun, he checked the peephole, then returned the weapon to its holster. “That’s Carly.” Relief at the reprieve filled him, and he opened the door. A young woman in her early thirties, with the same blue eyes as her brother, stepped into the room.
Ian shut the door and gave her a hug. “Thanks for doing this.”
