Page 22 of Nemesis
Once satisfied with my work, I pressed enter, and the screen turned blank before rows of numbers rolled down, destroying all the evidence from the hard drive, right before it shut down.
Swiping my phone off the desk, I shrugged into my now-dry hoodie, the smell of rain engulfing me until my head was out. The outside air was still cold, but thankfully no rain was in sight.
The breeze picked up as I headed to the car, gun in hand. I climbed behind the wheel, threw my gun back into the glove compartment, and drove off, making my way to the drop spot.
Once I made it back into town, I parked on the off-road pathway, leaving the car with the keys under the seat, and moved to the third tree trunk on the left where a burner phone was waiting for me. After grabbing the plastic bag hidden inside the old animal den, I started hiking back toward the main road.
Relying on the fact that it was still too early for anyone else to be out, I jogged back the last five miles separating me from the house.
Half an hour later, my head was incessantly throbbing with each fall of my feet against the pavement. Despite all the forced training Theo had put me through, I still fucking hated running. But I couldn’t drive back to the old barn. It would be too risky and I couldn’t afford to get caught.
When I made it back to our neighborhood, I pulled my phone out and looked at the time.
Fuck.
The guys were gonna start their rounds soon, and I needed to be there before the morning crew arrived. I picked up my pace, rounding our street’s corner, making sure I reached the house before someone saw me and started asking questions.
I punched in the code to the gate, quickly closing it behind me before jogging up the driveway and halting midway. Beads of perspiration dripped down my forehead, and my legs were burning. A brutal cramp seized my left side, sending my hands to my knees. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to breathe through it.
“Mrs. Morales,” a gruff voice said, startling me. “May I ask what you are doing out this early?”
I jumped back, whipping my head toward the source, a hand flying to my throat. I slowly lifted my head, peeling my lids back to meet the voice’s gaze. Panic flooded through me, and I swallowed hard over the dryness in my throat when I came face-to-face with none other than Theo.
Debes estar bromeando. What is he doing here this early?
He was wearing a black sweater that clung to his chest, dark gray slacks molding the outline of his thighs. His thick dark curls were messy like he’d been incessantly running his fingers through it.
Dios mío. Why did he have to look like that?
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I exhaled forcefully. “I was just out for a run. What areyoudoing here?”
“I work here. You shouldn’t be out on your own,” he said accusingly.
“I’m fine,” I replied drily.
“Mrs. Morales, you should take your security more seriously.”
I leveled him with my gaze. “Who said I wasn’t?” I answered, the beginning of exasperation licking around the edges of my patience as I passed him, making my way to the front door.
I walked in the house, Theo following right behind me. I passed the archway and stalked across the hallway that led to the back of the house. Relief coursed through me when I entered the kitchen, finding it empty.
I peered at the clock above the stove. There was still time before Jaxon and the rest of the staff came in to debrief over breakfast.
With one hand massaging my lower back, I crossed the room to the cabinet next to the stove, standing on my tiptoes to reach for the ibuprofen on the top shelf.
Before I could grab it, the warmth of his chest seeped against my back as he loomed over my head. “Here,” he said, bringing the bottle down for me.
His proximity sent my heart thudding against my chest. I bit my lip to prevent the hitch in my breath from escaping. Our fingers brushed against one another as I grabbed it from his hand, gripping it tight, willing my racing heart to calm down.
He barely stayed for a second longer and backed away, but the presence of his body lingered against my own.
Shaking the feeling off, I closed the cabinet door and turned around to find him now leaning against the refrigerator, a water bottle in hand.
“I could have done it myself.” My voice came out raspier than usual, revealing just how much his presence affected me.
He pushed off the steel door, walking to lean his elbows against the quartz countertop, and pushed the bottle in my direction. “A simple thank you would suffice.”
I stayed quiet, leaving the water he’d handed me on the counter. I shook four ibuprofen from the bottle and swallowed them dry while maintaining his gaze.
