Page 102 of Crossroads of Love

“My wife is with Lena all the time. It will make me feel better to do so, too.”

“Yeah, I guess it would.” I chuckle dryly. “I’ll keep pushing Nate to see what answers he can get me. I might have to pay Hank another visit.”

“Let your man work before you do anything crazy. You can make copies here of the files, and I’ll go through them if you want.”

“Yeah, I didn’t bring them with me, but I’ll get them over to you ASAP,” I say.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lena

As I step out of city hall, the sky is dark, except for a few distant stars trying to peek through the clouds. I stayed later than I intended, lost in paperwork, and now, the parking lot is empty, a quiet expanse under the dim glow of the streetlights. My footsteps echo as I make my way to my car, the keys clenched in my hand, the weight of my bag pulling down on my shoulder, and all the other things in my arms, causing me to struggle to open the door to the Bronco.

I glance around, unease creeping in as I quicken my pace. The silence feels wrong.

“Lena.”

My heart skips a beat.

Hank.

I whirl around, my body tense, my breath catching in my throat. He steps out from the shadows, the streetlight casting eerie shadows on his face. He looks almost the same as the last time I saw him, but something is off in his expression, something I can’t place.

I was never really scared of Hank until I learned that he could have been blackmailing Henry. Then I started overthinking all of the times that he was popping out of nowhere.

“Hank?” My voice wavers. Fear pulses through my veins, cold and sharp, making my hands shake as I fumble with my keys. I try to unlock the car door, but my fingers won’t cooperate, and the keys slip from my grip.

“Lena, wait.” His voice is calm, too calm for how I feel right now. He steps closer, and my heart pounds louder, my chest tight. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

I take a step back, my mind racing. My phone is in my purse, my pepper spray somewhere buried beneath all the stuff I hauled out of my office. I glance toward the parking lot’s entrance, but no one is around. No witnesses. It’s just me and him.

“Stay away from me,” I manage, my voice shaky, betraying the terror building inside me.

He raises his hands slowly, palms up, like he’s trying to prove he means no harm. But I don’t trust him. Not for a second.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he repeats, his tone soft but insistent. “You have to listen to me. You’re in danger.”

Danger?

A wave of panic surges through me, and my breath comes in shallow gasps. I still can’t get my car door open, the lock jamming as I pull at the handle, harder and harder, as if my life depended on it. Because maybe it does.

“I don’t believe you,” I hiss, my voice rising in fear and frustration. “Just leave me alone.”

He takes another step forward, and I freeze, my back pressed against the car. “Lena, I’m serious. You’re in danger, real danger. I need to talk to you.”

I feel like a cornered animal, desperate for any way out. “Get away from me!” I shout, my hand shaking as I try for the door handle again. “Just leave me alone!”

His hand moves toward his pocket, and I freeze, a sharp gasp escaping my lips as I think—he has a gun.

Oh God, this is it.

My eyes slam shut, my body bracing for the worst.

But instead of the cold feel of a gun barrel, I hear his voice again. “Lena, look at me. It’s not what you think.”

I don’t move, my chest heaving as I keep my eyes shut, refusing to open them. I feel him take a cautious step closer.

“I’m with the FBI.”

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