LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER TEN

      It was just after nine when she parked her car in the lot and hurried toward her apartment building. The ride back here had seemed endless, and panic clawed up the back of her throat even as she told herself over and over again to keep calm.

      She wasn’t expecting a package, and there was certainly nobody in her life to buy her a gift. The dark foreboding was back as she anticipated something bad about to rock her world yet again.

      “Good evening, Ms. Grant,” Jerry said as he opened the door for her. “Since I knew you weren’t at home when the package arrived, I put it on a shelf in the storeroom. Would you like me to go get it for you?”

      “Thanks, Jerry, but I’ll just grab it as I go up.” She was grateful that her voice didn’t betray any of the fear and anxiety that bubbled inside her.

      “You can’t miss it. It’s wrapped in bright pink paper and has a big silver bow.”

      “How did it arrive?” she asked.

      “It was a young man on a bicycle,” Jerry replied. He frowned. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure what company he was from.”

      “It’s fine, Jerry. Thanks.”

      Lara headed for the storeroom, and her mind raced. A bright pink package with a big silver bow. Maybe Nick had sent her a present. Although it would be highly inappropriate, maybe it was some sort of apology gift for not telling her about the spelling of Lara’s name. But they’d already moved way past that.

      The storeroom was located in the small lobby area. It was basically a shelved closet holding new lightbulbs and cleaning supplies and a variety of maintenance items.

      She immediately spied the package. It was impossible to miss it. It was about the size of a shirt box, and the only thing on it was the huge silver bow and her name and address neatly printed on an address form in black ink. After putting on gloves, she tentatively picked it up. It wasn’t heavy, although something shifted around inside of the box.

      She got into the elevator, and as she rode up to her apartment floor, her mind whirled. Maybe it wasn’t anything bad. Maybe she had a secret admirer? Maybe one of the other men on the team?

      She immediately dismissed this idea. She’d noticed Xander eyeing Cass with obvious interest, and she was certain she wasn’t Ty’s type. He was too nice of a guy to be drawn to a woman like her.

      She reached her apartment, unlocked the door and placed the package on her coffee table. She shrugged off her coat and hung it, then removed her gun, her holster and ID, all the while staring at the package.

      She went to the minibar and poured herself a drink and then walked around the coffee table, eyeing the package with trepidation.

      The wrapping paper didn’t appear unusual. It was neatly fastened with regular clear tape. She downed her drink, sat down on the sofa and pulled off the bow and set it aside.

      She didn’t like surprises. She didn’t like secret birthday parties or unexpected gifts, and she definitely didn’t like mystery packages.

      Her heartbeat quickened once again. She pulled the tape from one end and then ripped away the wrapping paper to reveal a plain white box.

      She hesitated a moment and then lifted the lid and peered inside. She frowned and pulled out a handful of photographs. Oh God...oh no. A familiar yellow house. David Minnow, his wife and little Emily sitting on the porch swing. Faye and Emily in the center of a blanket in the yard.

      There were more, and each one was a heart-stopping punch to Lara’s gut. “No,” she whispered. “No. No,” she repeated as a frantic alarm rang in her heart and electrified every nerve in her body.

      She shoved the box to the floor and dropped the photos in a jumble on top of the coffee table. She fumbled for her cell phone, her chest so tight she thought she might be on the verge of a heart attack.

      Her first call was to Victoria. When she’d finished telling her boss what she had received, Victoria had only three words in response. “Call the contact,” she said.

      Lara hung up, her fingers trembling with terror as she punched in the number for U.S. Marshal Peter Linden. Had she done this? Had her secret visits not been as secret as she had believed? Had she been followed? Oh God, no.

      Guilt battled with fear, and by the time Linden answered his phone, she was nearly hysterical. “This is Special Agent Lara Grant. Code Red. I repeat, Code Red. He knows.”

      * * * * *