Maybe even shocked her old boss would hire Ian, of all people. Ian had been surprised himself.
Regardless, he couldn’t risk her barring him from the Oceanview Lodge. Yes, in the worst case, he could watch over her from a distance. Still, that would be more difficult.
Ian put the poker where it belonged, but he remained near the fire. Jonna intrigued him in ways she shouldn’t. He didn’t want to be intrigued. However, he did want to come completely clean about why he was here. If Uncle Gil would just call him back, maybe the man would have some advice on how Ian could tell Jonna the truth without setting off her temper. But Uncle Gil hadn’t responded to his voicemail. He should have heard back by now. That disturbed him.
She rose and joined him by the fire. So much for keeping his distance. She didn’t ask more questions, seeming content enough with his answers. She had her own secrets, and he had his. But given today’s events, it wasn’t a good idea to keep his reasons for being here to himself much longer.
Come on, Uncle Gil. Call me back. Email me. Text me. Something...
The only person who’d tried to reach him today was Patrick, a good friend from his previous job, still working for the DSS. Patrick called every week or so, just to check up on Ian. He’d keep trying until he heard from Ian. But he didn’t have time to call him back just yet. He was in the thick of this now.
The thing was, he couldn’t be sure that the man who had shown up had anything to do with the women who were abducted, or if he had to do with the danger to Jonna from Miami. He would stick even closer and be more vigilant if she’d let him.
Tendrils of dread slithered over him as the anguish from his past assignment as a DSS agent filled his thoughts. His biggest failure had cost someone’s life. Turned his upside down.
He couldn’t fail again.
Jonna’s life could depend on him.
Uncle Gil, what have you gotten me into?
Back in her room, Jonna grabbed Chop Suey to snuggle beneath her comforter. The beast of a cat squirmed out of the covers and found a spot on the bed—his choice. When she’d first gotten him as a kitten, he’d jumped into her plate of Chop Suey, hence the name.
“It always has to be your idea, doesn’t it?” She tucked the comforter under her chin. “Suit yourself.”
For the first time she could remember, Jonna wished for a storm to end. The unceasing cacophony of crashing waves only stirred up the images from today like a reel-by-reel play. Vivid cinematography played across her mind.
A man pointed a gun at her, intending to kill her.
Add to that, that scenario had happened twice in her life. She wanted to know who that man was on the beach today.
She tossed and turned for what felt like hours. She even kept the cat awake. Eventually, Chop Suey jumped off the bed and found somewhere else to sleep. When Jonna woke up, it surprised her that she’d finally fallen asleep, but something had woken her.
What was it?
She remained still and listened.
It was quieter outside now.
The wailing gusts had moved on to torment another innkeeper up the coast. Another storm would replace it within the next few hours. Still, even now, sporadic gusts buffeted the cabin. The door creaked.
Probably nothing. Chop Suey didn’t stir.
If she had known she would have to worry about the past, she might have gotten a dog. As it was, if she tried that now then Chop Suey would probably chase away any canine Jonna brought home.
Jonna grabbed her trusty Sig. She crept to the door and peeked through the peephole. She had a front entrance that didn’t connect to the lodge to give her more privacy in case she ever went on, say, a date. Right. Through the hole, she saw nothing but darkness. She switched on the porch light. No one suspicious lurked near the door. She flipped the light back off.
Another creak.
This had to be the logs of the cabin shifting, but Jonna would take no chances after today.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
The window this time. She rolled her shoulders and approached the window that faced the ocean. Now she wished she had closed the mini blinds and curtains.
Standing against the wall, she peered out and gasped, nearly screaming. She stepped back and pressed herself against the wall. She’d seen a shadow, the silhouette of a man. Hadn’t she? Heart palpitating, she lifted her weapon and peered out again.
A tree branch morphed into the shape she thought she saw, then scratched the window. She was becoming entirely too paranoid. She couldn’t function if she couldn’t get any sleep.
In the meantime, she shut the mini blinds and tugged the curtains closed. Set the Sig aside and rubbed her arms. Pulling on a hoodie, she sat at her desk. It was much too late to call her old boss Gil, and besides, she dreaded that call with everything in her. But she had to find out if there had been more chatter.
What specifically had the chatter been when her name had come up? So she opened up her laptop, found his old email address—the one she hadn’t used in three years—and typed up her question.
But she didn’t send it.
This couldn’t be about Florida. The guy thought he’d killed her—just a cop snooping around in a warehouse. She hadn’t been targeted specifically.
Or had she?
She didn’t know anything that would make her, personally, a target. There was no reason for anyone to think about her, much less say her name.
Jonna folded her arms on the desk and pressed her head into them. She was lying to herself. She tried to forget what she knew, which was very little. She suspected that not everyone involved in the human-trafficking ring had been taken down.
The mayor had wanted the case closed quickly. So the powers that be had conducted the raids and arrested the people involved. But not everyone had been caught in the net. Jonna had suspected someone higher up had been pulling the strings and had managed to avoid capture.
She was looking into that when someone had shot her and left her for dead.
Why would someone want to target her again? If they did, that would only bring attention to the earlier attempt to murder her and the motive behind it. No, this simply couldn’t be about Miami. She willed it to be so. Another lie. When had her will had anything to do with it? Jonna sent the email to Gil. She could trust him to be honest with her. He’d been good to her. Let her slip into obscurity quietly, the way she wanted.
If she learned one thing from today—it was that she was out of practice. At least she’d been jogging every day, but she was getting rusty to let that man pacing her get the upper hand.
She probably needed to hit the shooting range again, a place she’d avoided for much too
