Whoever was there must’ve come for the contents of the safe, too. And beaten her to it.
She ducked into the office, unstrapped her sidearm, and retrieved her gun. Safety off. The individual would have to walk past her whether they went to the front or back door.
But hell, there’d been no signs of forced entry in the back when she’d arrived, and she highly doubted whoever was in the house had used the front door—unless they had a key? And what did that mean?
When the sounds of footsteps grew louder, she eased farther back to catch whoever was about to walk by the office.
Her heartbeat quickened when a dark figure appeared and halted right outside the door as if sensing her presence. Based on height and bulk, it was a man, his head and face covered with a full mask, gloves on his hands. Dressed in all black like her.
The second she sensed he was about to turn, she lifted her gun and aimed it his way. “Don’t move,” she demanded, but he came at her fast, forcing her arms up into the air. She gritted down on her back teeth as they struggled with her sidearm. His hands were everywhere. Pushing. Pulling.
Ana’s back slammed against the wall, but she refused to give up, even though something inside her told her she was on the brink of losing this battle.
A knee to his groin only made matters worse when a shot got off and pierced the ceiling.
He kept her body pinned to the wall as he stopped fighting for control of her gun, and in one fast movement, he reached around to his back. With his barreled chest so close to her, she couldn’t even get her arms lowered to try and position her weapon on him.
Her eyelashes fluttered against particles of plaster falling from the ceiling.
Another knee to his dick had him hissing and growing angrier with her.
But as she stared at a pair of unnaturally colored eyes, it dawned on her he could have already shot her by now but hadn’t.
“Stop,” he growled in a too-deep-to-be-real voice. “Stop resisting.”
“Who are you?”
The man stepped back, and they both pointed their weapons at each other, breathless.
He raised a forefinger to his lips with his free hand. “We’re not alone.” The man spun toward the open doorway, then gave her one last look before taking off.
She stumbled back in surprise, prepared to pursue but hesitated at the sounds of a skirmish right before the back door banged shut.
Ana carefully entered the hall, still confused as to what in the hell just happened, then halted in surprise as a shadowy figure started her way, one hand with a gun aimed toward the ceiling, the other holding the side of his head.
“You okay?” he asked.
She attempted to adjust her eyesight to see who was standing in the hall with her.
“It’s me.”
That voice.
“Anastasia.” He teased out her full name, allowing it to slowly roll across his tongue. “The guy is gone. Are you hurt?”
“A.J.?” She edged closer to him, taking cautious steps. Once his face was in view, and she confirmed his identity, she lowered her weapon, and he did the same. “I’m fine, but what in the hell are you doing here?”
But damn it, there wasn’t time to have a conversation, especially not there. Someone may have already reported hearing the gunshot.
“We need to get out of here,” she urgently said before he’d answered her.
“I’m thinking that’s a good idea.”
“I discharged my weapon. And . . . the security cameras.” The cameras she could fix, but the spent bullet was irrefutable evidence she’d been in Porter’s house.
“There will be a secondary copy of the footage on the security company’s mainframe. You’ll need that one, too,” he said as if it were the most natural conversation in the world.
She’d been so shocked by what happened tonight, she might have missed that detail had A.J. not shown up.
“My people will handle that.” He motioned for the door. “I’ll scrub the footage that’s on-site and get the shell casing and bullet. You just get back home and wait for me there.”
“Why are you helping me?” she blurted, worried he was a figment of her imagination. An illusion. Some big trick, one like her father used to pull.
“I, um.”
He wasn’t supposed to help her, was he? And what did that mean?
A.J. reached for her hand. A surprising and comforting feeling warmed her like a security blanket.
“Please, just go. Trust me, okay?” She stared at him, eyes wide.