Tactical Force. Elle James
Jack slipped inside.
She counted to ten, her stomach knotting and her breathing unsteady. How long could it take to look for bad guys? Just when Anne had decided she couldn’t wait another moment, Jack appeared in the entryway, his mouth set in a grim line. He opened the door wider, flipped the light switch on and stood back. “I take it you didn’t leave your place like this when you left for work this morning?”
Anne stepped across the threshold and gasped. “What the h—?”
Her home looked like something from a warzone. The sofa had been flipped on its back. The seat cushions had been flung across the room after they’d been ripped open and the stuffing pulled out. The artwork she’d painstakingly chosen and positioned on the walls had been slashed or painted over with a garish red spray paint.
Every drawer in her kitchen had been dumped on the floor. Knives stuck into the walls as if they’d been thrown one by one.
The photo frame containing a picture of Anne, her mother and her father had been destroyed, the picture pulled out and torn up into tiny pieces.
Tears welled in Anne’s eyes as she continued through the little apartment to the bedroom. How much worse could it get? They’d destroyed practically everything she owned.
It got worse. The bedroom, like the living room, was a shambles, with the mattress dragged off the bed frame, a long gash drawn down the center. The pillows were in tatters, the filling scattered across the room. But the message on the wall was what made Anne press a hand to her chest and reel from shock.
Words written in bright red spray paint covered the wall over her headboard.
CONSIDER THIS A WARNING
Beside the words was a symbol Anne was all too familiar with. The crisscrossing Trinity symbol that might mean nothing to most but struck fear in the hearts of those familiar with the organization’s history.
Anne staggered backward until her back hit the wall. Then she slid down and gathered her knees to her chest. “This. Can’t. Be. Happening.”
Jack dropped to his haunches beside her and took her hands in his. “I’m sorry, but it is. And you can’t stay here. They know where you live and might come back.”
She shook her head, her eyes glazed, her hands shaking in his. “I haven’t done anything. Why would they come after me?”
“I don’t know.” Jack gently pulled her to her feet. “Grab the clothes you can, or better yet, leave it all here and buy new.” He slipped an arm around her waist and pressed her body against his. “The main thing is to get you out of here as soon as possible.”
She shook her head. “But this is all I own… My things.”
“They’re just things. At least you weren’t here when they came in.” He flung open the closet door.
Whoever had trashed her apartment had used the same red paint, spraying a thick swath across the clothes hanging in her closet.
Jack grabbed a gym bag from the floor. “They didn’t get this,” he said.
He unzipped it and held it open. “Find whatever you can that’s undamaged, enough to get you by, and let’s get the heck out of here. I don’t want them to come back while we’re here.”
Anne couldn’t seem to make her feet move. A crippling lethargy settled over her, making it impossible to think or motivate herself.
Jack dropped the bag and gripped her arms. “Anne.” He tipped her chin up and stared into her eyes. “These are just things. We have to leave. I need you to be with me.” He gave her a gentle shake. “Now.”
Though she knew she needed to comply, she just couldn’t.
“I’m not getting through to you,” Jack said with a sigh. “Maybe this will work.” He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers in a hard, persistent kiss.
The shock of it forced Anne’s mind off the destruction and centered it on the feel of his lips against hers. She raised her hands to wrap around the back of his neck and pulled him closer. As if by kissing him, she could block out all the horror of her apartment.
When he finally set her away, he stared down into her eyes. “Are you with me now?” he asked, his tone deep, his voice gravelly.
She nodded. “I am.”
He released her arms. “Then pack. You have one minute to get all the undamaged items you can into that bag. If it’s nothing, so be it. You’re coming with me.” He left her alone in the room.
Anne shook out of her stunned haze and scrambled through her clothing, searching for panties, bras, jeans, shirts and skirts she could salvage from the items the intruders had permanently destroyed. She changed out of her skirt and heels into a pair of jeans and loafers.
She jammed what few undamaged things she could find into the gym bag and hurried to find Jack, wanting to be with him at all times. Though he was a stranger, he made her feel safer than she’d felt alone.
He stood by the open door of her apartment, looking up and down the hallway. When he heard her behind him, he shot a glance over his shoulder. “Ready?”
Anne nodded, closed the door and handed him her cell phone. “I think this has to do with the text messages I received before I left work this evening.”
Jack took the phone from her and read through the messages, his face growing tighter, a muscle ticking in his jaw by the time he finished. “I take it you didn’t read the last two messages.”
Anne frowned. “I had other things on my mind, and I’d hoped by ignoring the texts, whoever had sent them would just go away.” She snorted. “Obviously, that didn’t happen.”
“Read them.” Jack pushed the cell phone beneath her nose.
Anne focused on the words.
Destroy your phone.
They will track you with it.
“If whoever did this to your apartment can track you using your phone, you need to ditch that phone. The sooner the better.” Jack pulled his own cell phone from his back pocket and snapped pictures of the messages on Anne’s cell phone. He glanced up at her. “Sorry, but it must be done.” He dismantled the phone, pulled the SIM card from it, dropped the card into the kitchen’s garbage disposal and ground it into oblivion. Then he placed the phone on the floor and stomped his heel into the screen.
“I need to get pictures of the message on the wall. Wait here,” he said and disappeared into her bedroom. When he returned to the living room, he sent the pictures to someone and placed a call.
“We’re headed your way. We could be bringing a tail… Good. See you in a few.”
“What was that all about?” Anne asked.
“I sent the images to my boss. We’ve got a couple of computer wizzes who can do some poking around to see what they can find.” He took the gym bag from her hand and led the way down the stairs toward the parking lot. He made her wait in the stairwell until he was certain the parking lot was safe.
Jack strapped the bag onto the back of the bike and went back to collect Anne. Slipping an arm around her, he shielded her body with his and walked her to the motorcycle.
Once they’d both mounted the bike, Anne leaned over Jack’s shoulder. “Are you taking me to a hotel? I have nowhere else to go,” she said, her heart flipping in her chest and the tears rushing to fill her eyes. She couldn’t go to a friend’s house. Not with Trinity looking for her.
Jack shook his head. “We’re going to Charlie’s.”
Anne wondered whether everything would have gone on as usual if she’d ignored the first text message. Had she set the course of events by responding? And now that her phone was destroyed, the mysterious texter wouldn’t have a way to contact her. Somehow, that didn’t give her