Page 4 of ELITE Protection
She sharpened the edges of his face, wishing she could see his eyes behind the reflective glasses.
Click. Click.
His swagger was confident, almost cocky as he strode the fifteen feet to the steps. He certainly wasn’t trying to be stealthy in that bright yellow jacket. Although the reflective striping required for serious backcountry exploration was designed into the outer jacket, the coat had not been purchased off the rack at a local boutique. It was too high-tech.
She scanned his body for weapons. So much could be hidden under the large parka, including multiple handguns, knives, and even a submachine gun.
He constantly rotated his head from side to side. She was sure he’d mentally logged every vehicle on the street and could accurately describe the couple and their two children next door playfully having a snowball fight.
She could.
Hannah moved to observe him on the porch. She took another few pictures as he stomped the snow off his boots. She touched the button to send her shots directly to her computer then slid the camera into a duffel bag on the dining table.
Withdrawing her Sig Sauer .45 caliber, she stepped quietly across the thick-padded living room carpet onto the tile at the front door. She was already looking through the peephole when he rang the bell.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” Her voice was rough from lack of use the past two weeks. She had limited her calls to her parents, primarily texting once a day using the throwaway cell phone she had picked up at a gas station when she had flown into Bozeman.
“Ma’am, I’m Isaac Snow from Guardian Security’s Atlanta Center.” He slipped off his glove and reached into his pocket.
She immediately brought the gun up. She was pretty sure he couldn’t fire a bullet through the solid core front door, but a single shot would shatter the glass in the windows three feet away. He could be inside in seconds.
Instead, he held an identification card up to the peephole.
She liked that even less because it blocked her view and she couldn’t see what he was doing. Stepping to the side, Hannah flipped the deadbolt and opened the door a crack. The chain lock hung loosely at chin level.
“I’m here to meet Hannah Kader.” The man slid a business card toward her.
She snatched the small paper from his fingers and slammed the door shut. The black and gold business card had the words Guardian Security, Inc. underneath the name Isaac Snow. There was no title distinguishing him as a manager, owner, or peon. Nothing. In the lower right corner were an Atlanta address and a phone number.
Hannah peered through the peephole to watch the man turn his back to the door and take a selfie.
What. The. Hell?
Sure, his rugged good looks were accentuated in that orange parka, but was the man that vain and so bored he decided to use her silence for selfies? And why the hell would he photograph himself on her porch?
He lowered his phone, his thumbs flying over the screen as he turned back around.
Damn. He was sending the pictures to someone.
Hannah quickly debated between calling 911 or the phone number on the card.
Was he texting pictures of her parents’ home in Big Sky to a local ISIS cell, pointing out where she was? She glanced through the living room windows to the street looking to see if reinforcements were on their way to kidnap her. Or to kill her.
At no sign of traffic, Hannah wanted to kick her own butt. ISIS didn’t knock on the door and introduce themselves.
With a sigh, she reconsidered his actions. Maybe he was sending a picture to his girlfriend to prove that he was at work.
She compared the phone number on the card with the one her father had given her to call in case of an emergency. It was the same. With a sigh of relief, she dialed.
“Guardian Security, Atlanta Center. Is this an emergency?”
The unexpected question gave her pause. No. A strange man at her front door was not an emergency as far as she could tell. He might even be the one she’d expected, but Hannah had learned in a mud block hovel in Syria that you don’t even trust those who you consider friends.
“Hello. Not exactly an emergency, but I need to confirm that one of your agents…employees…whatever you call them…is in fact the man standing at my door.” That didn’t come out as smooth as Hannah had hoped. She was obviously more shaken up than she’d admitted to herself.
She peered through the peephole at the man on the porch. He stood back so she could see him head to toe, his gloved hands clasped in front of him, feet spread shoulder-width apart. He turned his head side to side then he stared at the door as though he could see through it.
She quickly took a step back.
