Page 24 of Somebody's Watching Me
He had the gun aimed in her direction.
Toned and slender, the woman of the group moved with a controlled purpose. Should she become the aggressor, that lean strength would allow her to move fast. Going to the rear control pad, the woman pried open the panel door, and as she did, the cuff of her shirt shifted to reveal the tattooed marking of the Zanmi Society.
Only the most devout were allowed to have it. To be branded in the name of Zanmi was for those who donated not only their money, but their time and life to the cause. Ridiculous fools who thought they had found a family to love them.
The second man remained in the shadows, illuminated only by the occasional flash of the security light. He was shorter than the first man, but not by much, and had a more athleticbuild.
“You don’t want to do that.” Rowan silenced the alarm from wherever he was and turned the lights on full blast. “The police are less than ten minutes out. Leave.”
Man number one closed the distance, standing directly in front of Jamison. She fought not to close her eyes when the gun’s barrel hovered in her face. Make notes. Take inventory. All of it matters. When the police arrived, she would need to be able to provide as much information as possible, so she focused on the ski masks they wore. The type. The material. Heavy-duty, like something you would use in cold weather, and not just for face concealment.
Her nose twitched as she caught the scent of the cologne the man with the gun wore. Expensive. Like something her dad would wear.
“We’ll leave as soon as we get what we came for,” the man shouted at Rowan and then lowered his voice to where only she could hear. “Although I have to say, this is a much easier snatch and grab than we expected. Thanks for waiting outside.”
“You’re so not fucking welcome.”
Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say to a guy holding a gun, but when the second man hanging back in the shadows openly laughed at the show of defiance, it startled her. Their masks had mesh material over the mouth section, allowing his grin to show.
He was still smiling when he pointed a gloved finger at the woman. “Take it down.”
The woman unclipped a walkie-talkie from her waist, and Jamison gritted her teeth in frustration. Rowan would’ve been able to lock onto a cell signal and possibly trace it to discover their identities. These people were beyond prepared and knew what they were doing. Nothing at all like the Zanmi members who had attempted to enter Haven House before.
“We don’t have anything of Toby’s here.” It was always about retrieving some piece of his history. Things like toys from his childhood or photos they didn’t already have. “It’s in storage.”
The woman ignored her and spoke into the walkie-talkie. “We have an unexpected guest, and he’s making quite a ruckus.”
Rowan’s shouts from the speaker went silent, and night engulfed the patio, with Haven House going dark along with it. The hammering of Jamison’s heart stopped completely when she realized the sound hadn’t been her heart at all, but Simone and Annabeth pounding on the kitchen door. With no electricity, and no Rowan keeping them secure inside, they stormed out.
Simone waved a cast iron skillet. “Get the hell out of here.”
“Let her go.” Annabeth appeared right behind her mother, aiming a kitchen knife at the intruders. “You heard him. The police are on the way.”
“Ah, now, these two we did expect.” The second man stepped forward, that awful smile still in place. “We have no interest in you or your daughter, Ms. Howard. Please go back inside.”
Simone swung the skillet at the woman’s head, but she dodged it easily. On the second swing, the woman snarled under her mask. “Don’t make me hurt you, Ms. Howard.”
“The hell you will!” Simone screeched, holding the skillet like a baseball bat. “Leave me and my babies alone.”
Faster than Jamison’s eyes could register, the woman jerked forward, headbutting Simone with enough force that it knocked her back into Annabeth.
Jamison screamed as the skillet crashed to the ground, and the woman pounced, striking Simone repeatedly in the face with a fist. Annabeth tried to shield her mother, dropping the knife as she blocked each hit.
Without any care for her own safety, Jamison moved to intervene, but the man with the gun put an end to that idea. Clasping the back of herhead, he pressed the gun’s barrel painfully into her forehead. “No, pretty girl. You stay put.”
“Fuck you.”
“Enough,” the second man shouted, no longer grinning like a psycho. “Put them to sleep.”
The woman slipped two syringes from a side pocket of her cargo pants and held down Simone and Annabeth, who lay crumpled on the ground from the attack.
“Why are you doing this?” Tears spilled as she watched Simone’s body twitch as whatever they were giving her took effect. “Please don’t hurt us anymore.”
The second man came closer. “Get your hands off my property.”
Lowering the gun, the big guy stepped aside without question.
“Forgive my friend Bruce here,” The second man said, standing before her. “He can be overly enthusiastic when fulfilling orders.”
