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.”
Carly grinned up at him. “Always loved the night shift.” She turned her gaze to Gina, studying her. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Ian stepped to the door. “I’ll let you guys get acquainted, but I’d make it short if I were you.” He looked at Gina. “Get some sleep, it’s already almost 2:00 in the morning. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
Gina blinked at Ian’s sudden departure.
Well. Then she narrowed her eyes. He was getting out while he could, avoiding any more questions he didn’t want to answer. She let him go, moved to the bed and sank onto it.
Carly settled herself into a chair, facing the door yet away from the window. “So, you’ve got someone after you, huh?”
“To say the least.”
Compassion softened the features she shared with Ian.
“Why don’t you get some rest? No one will bother you tonight.”
Fatigue hit Gina like a truck, and instead of getting up and taking the shower she’d planned on, she fell back to stare at the ceiling. “Thanks, I appreciate that.” Then she sat back up. “I think I’m too exhausted to sleep.”
Silence reigned for a moment; then a sympathetic Carly asked, “How did you and Mario meet?”
Gina smiled at the memory. “He wanted to buy a house.”
“Ian told me you’re a Realtor.”
“Yep. Mario wanted to buy a house in North Carolina. I was working with a firm there, and he got put through to me. We met and the rest was history as they say.”
“Did he ever buy the house?”
Gina chuckled. “Not in North Carolina. He eventually bought the one near Myrtle Beach. The whole thing in North Carolina was an undercover deal. The president was going to be at the Charlotte Coliseum. There had been reports of a terrorist attack there, and Mario was assigned the case. My real estate office was right across the street from the Coliseum. It made for a good cover.”
“And he called you after the mission was finished?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes grew heavy and she gave in to the desire for sleep, murmuring, “I think I might be able to get a little rest, if that’s okay.”
“Go right ahead—that’s why I’m here. I brought a book to read.” With that she opened a thick novel and conversation ceased.
While Gina’s body demanded rest, her mind wouldn’t shut off. What had Mario been thinking? What had he been involved in that would cause someone to come after her?
Racking her brain produced nothing but a headache, so she turned her thoughts to Ian—what was it about him that caused Mario to trust the man? Why, of all the people Mario knew, did he practically order her to contact the one person who—in his eyes—had betrayed the unit by leaving?
Okay, if she was honest with herself, she’d have to admit betrayed might be too strong a word. Deserted? Bailed on? Abandoned?
Whatever the word, he’d left the unit and, as a result, disharmony had ensued. The team recovered, of course, but it was never the same. And while Mario had not shared the details of everything,