Page 31 of Final Vendetta

I narrowed my gaze at her, hoping she’d back down. I should have known she wouldn’t.

“Fine. But you’ll stay in the car until I know it’s safe for you.”

“I can do that.” Flashing me a conniving smile, she spun around.

“Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?” I mumbled under my breath.

“Only you.” She winked over her shoulder, then opened the door and headed outside.

Chapter Fourteen

Gideon

I parked my SUV in front of Imogene’s townhouse and killed the engine, reaching into the glove box for the pistol I kept there. I turned to Imogene, her face a blend of uncertainty and determination in the dim light of the nearby streetlamp.

“Stay here. Keep the doors locked.” I handed her the gun, holding her gaze. “Do you remember how to use this?”

Her expression hardened as she wrapped her fingers around the handle, keeping the barrel pointed down.

“Yes.”

“Good.” I started to open the door, but her voice stopped me.

“What about you?”

“I don’t need a gun to defend myself, should it come to that.”

“But—”

“I’ll be fine. Like I said, it’s probably nothing.”

She forced a smile, but I sensed her reluctance to believe me.

My gut told me otherwise, too, especially now that I was here. The back of my neck tingled, a sense of premonition filling me. Which was why I wanted to make sure Imogene was armed.

“I’ll be right back.” With one last kiss on her forehead, I slipped out of the car and headed for the side gate that led to the back yard.

The ocean breeze was relatively calm, a strange contrast to the heavy pulse thrumming in my chest. I cautiously scanned my surroundings for anything that appeared out of place. I hadn’t been here in weeks, making it difficult to discern if anythinghadbeen disturbed.

I climbed the short flight of stairs leading to the deck and came to a stop when I saw the back door was slightly ajar. My heart rate increased as I examined the doorjamb for any sign of forced entry, but found none. Whoever had been here had to have known Imogene’s access code.

Slowly pushing the door open, I entered the townhouse with careful, measured steps. The dark silence pressed against me, amplifying every creak of the wood floors beneath my feet. I started my search in the downstairs bathroom, followed by Imogene’s office, but they were undisturbed. The same was true of the living area and kitchen.

But that didn’t push down my unease. Something still felt off.

On light feet, I made my way to the second floor, frowning when I noticed the door to Imogene’s bedroom was shut, a glow visible through the crack between the floor and the door.

Turning the knob, I pushed the door open and the room came into view. The light from a nearby street lamp cast long shadows across the space.

But just like downstairs, it was empty, apart from her belongings. As were the ensuite bathroom and closet. Yet there was a disturbance lingering in the air. Someone had left their mark on this room. I could feel it.

Not wanting to leave Imogene alone any longer than necessary, I headed down the stairs and back outside with a nagging feeling of unease hanging over me.

“Anything?” she asked when I opened her door, her voice laced with tension.

“Nothing I could see.” I took the gun from her and slipped it into the waistband of my jeans. “I want you to take a look around and see if anything stands out.”

“Of course.”

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