Page 38 of Nemesis
But right before it connected, my hand grabbed his wrist forcefully, pushing it backward.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I said harshly, my grip tightening around him.
He stumbled a few steps back, his eyes glaring daggers at me. I met him with the same intensity, daring him to defy me. My body was vibrating with a murderous rage and I was two seconds away from disfiguring him with my fists. He should consider himself lucky that I wasn’t murdering him right then and there.
His mask slid back in place, and he yanked his arm back. He walked toward his office, turning mid-way to glare at me.
“Never do that again, Mr. Alvarez,” he said, displeasure coating his tone, then slammed the wooden door of his office behind him.
When the adrenaline faded, I spun around, only to find Olivia already gone.
I’d barely seen her these past few days. Five to be exact.
Yes, I’d counted, but I didn’t want to think about that fact too much.
Since that afternoon, she’d spent most of her days locked in her office, only coming down to eat, then locking herself right back up.
Today was the first day we’d spent any time alone.
Earlier this morning, Victor had called me into his office, letting me know I was needed for the day. I’d been tasked with accompanying both him and Olivia to a brunch spot downtown for a last-minute emergency meeting with some of the board members from his company.
Victor had taken a car with Jaxon, while I drove with Olivia separately. I wanted to talk to her about what happened, but every time I went to open my mouth, she would shut me down with her gaze, not wanting to discuss Wednesday’s incident.
The small café was located in a quiet neighborhood. Although Jaxon and I considered it was private enough that preliminary security clearance wasn’t necessary, we thought it would be better if we were both here.
It’d been quiet for some time now. No other gifts or notes had shown up since the one from the parking garage. We’d found no fingerprints or anything really that could help us trace it back to its sender. I’d sent it to Noah, but I still hadn’t heard back from him. I’d tried calling a few times, but it kept going straight to voicemail.
But quiet wasn’t always a good sign. If anything, whoever was sending the threats might have stayed under the radar just to prepare for something bigger. We might just be on borrowed time.
I moved my attention back to where they were all seated at a round table in the middle of the shop, deep into an animated conversation.
Olivia was facing away from me, her back leaned against a wooden chair. Her dark hair was tied in a ponytail, a few loose strands framing her face. She was wearing some sort of navy pinstripe skirt suit, with an oversized matching blazer, white lace hem peeking through.
She looked beautiful. Well, she always looked beautiful.
She leaned her elbows on the marbled surface of the table, joining the conversation after one of the men asked for her opinion about how to resolve the crisis they were facing.
I took that opportunity to divert my attention from her and actually do my job, evaluating the surroundings.
The room we were in was well lit, brightened mostly by the daylight cast through the huge bay windows. A few soft lights were hanging from the high inverted hull ceiling, wooden boat paddles used as fan blades. Old-looking mirrors were lined behind the bar on the far right, plants and dried flowers decorating its front.
Years in the field taught me to notice the unnoticeable, see what others couldn’t by recognizing the markings of a guilty conscience. My gaze bounced from man to man, searching for telltale signs of a gun protruding from a waistline, a nervous hand twitch, a repeated glance toward the exit.
One of the waiters brushed past the bench where I was seated, a single drink on his tray. My gaze briefly flicked it, noticing a small white paper next to the drink, but I brushed it off and brought my attention back to Olivia, the waiter now approaching their table.
My eyes were still on her when an ominous feeling crawled on my skin. Instinctively, my back stiffened as every inch of me went on high alert.
Olivia turned to the waiter, nodding to whatever he was saying before she grabbed a piece of paper from him. Her eyes quickly scanned the content, then she got up, eyes wide as she glanced frantically around the room.
She eventually turned in my direction and the new position gave me a better view of her face, which was when I saw it.
A red dot was aimed right at her forehead—a sniper’s dot.
My body went into motion before my brain registered it. I leapt from my chair and ran to her.
“Olivia, get down,” I yelled frantically.
There was a moment of complete silence before chaos unfolded. My body slammed into hers as I grabbed and whirled her around, tackling her to the ground to shield her body with mine. A gunshot erupted through the window, the sound of fractured glass shattering across the ceramic floor echoing across the panicked room. Customers yelled and jumped from their seats, some crouching under tables for cover, while others stampeded toward the exit.
