And the thumping from outside had stopped. “Benning?”
Warning skittered up her spine, raising a trail of goose bumps across her shoulders. Ana unholstered her weapon but kept it at her side as she stepped into the main living space. She heel-toed it slowly toward Olivia’s bedroom, old wood groaning beneath her feet. No movement through the windows. Nothing but the sound of her own breathing. Routine blackouts occurred frequently throughout the area, but that didn’t explain why the generator hadn’t started. She’d checked the fuel levels and connections during her initial perimeter search. The tank had been full. Which meant it had to have been disconnected.
Wrapping her hand around the bedroom doorknob, she shouldered her way inside Olivia’s room. Curtains drawn, lights out. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, but the soft outline of Olivia beneath the covers—asleep—brought her racing heart rate down a notch. Ana reached her free hand around the door and twisted the lock before closing it behind her. No matter what happened, nothing would get through this door. She’d make sure of it.
She skimmed her fingers across the alarm panel beside the front door and hit the panic button. No response. Her stomach sank, and she raised her weapon parallel with the floor. Whoever’d cut the power and the generator must’ve also cut the lines to outside contact. Unpocketing her cell phone, she checked for coverage. Nothing reliable. “Maldicion.”
As of right now she was all that stood between the threat and Benning and his daughter. She shoved her phone back into her pocket. After dropping the magazine from her service weapon to double-check the rounds left over from the parking lot shootout, she slammed it back into place and removed the safety. Finger beside the trigger, Ana retraced her steps toward the kitchen. Then slowed as cold air brushed against her face.
The sliding glass door hadn’t been open when she’d gone to check on Olivia.
A soft protest of wood flooring from behind spun her around just as a wall of muscle slammed into her. The cabin blurred in her vision a split second before her head snapped back onto the floor. Hand tight on the gun, she took aim at the masked attacker, finger over the trigger.
But faster than Ana thought possible, he clamped his hand over the barrel of the weapon and twisted until the sound of crunching bone and splintering pain was all she knew. Her groan drowned the rough inhales and exhales coming from beneath her attacker’s mask, but she wasn’t down yet. Hiking her knee into his kidneys, she used his own momentum to slam him into the floor face-first. Disoriented, he gave her enough time to latch on to the glass coffee table and shove to her feet.
The bedroom door swung open, and Benning’s daughter stepped into the moonlight.
“Olivia, no! Run—” Searing pain spread across her scalp as the bastard fisted a handful of her hair and threw her back into the wall that made up the oversize fireplace. The air slammed out of her lungs, but she didn’t have time to recover. She dodged the fist aimed directly at her face as he rocketed his knuckles into the stone behind her. Targeting her shoulder into his midsection, she threw everything she had into hiking her attacker off his feet. She couldn’t let him get to Olivia. Her stitches pulled tight. She locked her back teeth against the scream working up her throat but didn’t make it so much as a single step forward before a direct hit to her bullet wound knocked her off balance. They both collapsed, both fought for air, but pain-induced nausea kept Ana down.
Her attacker stood over her, a hint of sweat and new car smell working deep into her lungs. This wasn’t some run-of-the-mill criminal set on covering up a murder. The way he moved, the way he’d targeted her wound. He was a professional. Former military, or at least trained in advanced maneuvers, and he’d put Benning and his family in his sights. “You weren’t supposed to get involved, Agent Ramirez.”
“Congratulations, you’ve done your homework and figured out who I am.” Shaking her head, she clamped a hand over her side and struggled to her feet, only to collapse again. Blood soaked through her cookie dough-stained shirt. Mierda. Would she have any clothes left by the time this case was over? She forced her breathing to slow and swallowed the dryness in her throat. Steel resolve pulled her shoulders back, and she settled her gaze on her attacker’s. She’d made Benning a promise. She’d given him her word to protect him, protect Olivia and bring Owen home. She wasn’t about to fail him now. “What I want to know is who the hell are you? And where’s Benning?”
A hollow laugh filtered through the pounding behind her ears. In less than two moves, he dropped the magazine from her service weapon and disassembled the gun. Pocketing the magazine, he tossed the rest, the sound of metal on wood a shock straight to her nerves.
“I know you, Ramirez. I used to be you, so believe me when I say it’d be in your best interest to walk away while you still can.” He shot his hand out, gripping her throat and hauling her into his muscled chest. Her heart threatened to punch through her rib cage as he squeezed hard enough to constrict her airway. He cocked his head to one side, revealing a line of flawless skin between the ski mask and his leather jacket. He braced his feet apart as she struggled with both hands around his wrist. “Mr. Reeves took something that didn’t belong to him, and now I’m the one who has to clean up the
