Page 2 of Rescued By the Mountain Man Cowboy
Turn the hell around, Anna. Get your stuff and go home.
“Marcus,” the other person in the office whimpers. “You know me. I’ll fix it. My contact gave me bad information. I won’t let this happen again. Please.”
“It’s not up to me. Like you, they say, jump, I don’t even ask how high.”
My muscles shake as I inch my head around the corner of the door frame. Marcus’ back is to me. The other man in the room is out of view.
What the hell is going on?
“Don’t,” the man’s whimpers intensify as I watch Marcus pull a gun from his back.
My eyes widen as I tighten my grip on the bag of food I’ve practically forgotten. My inner Anna is screaming at me to turn around and leave. Paralyzed to listen, I back away from the door frame and remain plastered to the cold wall, listening.
“Can’t afford losing another four hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Larry. You know how this works.”
“But—”
Pop Pop Pop
Gasping at the clear sound of three muffled shots, my hands clamp over my mouth, dropping the food, which slaps the ground in a deafening echo.
“The fuck,” I hear Marcus say.
My body unlocks, and instinct takes over. I don’t think. I turn and run.
“Who the fuck’s here?” Marcus yells as his footsteps thunder down the hall.
Whimpering, I bypass the elevators and head to the emergency staircase near my desk. I yank my purse off my desk and shove my wallet back inside while running.
“Anna? What the fuck are you doing here?” Marcus yells behind me. “Get back here!”
I don’t look back. My lungs scream as I pull the door open to the stairs and trip down five flights.
“Anna!”
I glance up. Marcus slides around the corner, two flights above.
“Oh, God,” I cry, ignoring the burn in my calves.
I get to the basement parking level. It’s a blur of time as I find my car, throw myself inside, start it up, and peel out of there. My hands tremble violently as I fight to catch my breath.
“Holy shit.” My eyes water as I rush past changing streetlights, racing to my apartment by autopilot.
“What do I do? Do I call the cops? What the hell do I do?” I scream at the windshield.
Who has the balls and arrogance to just shoot someone in a downtown office building? Do people do this? Am I seriously living a crime TV show episode right now?
Normally, I’m twenty minutes from the office. It feels like I got here in five minutes. I enter the parking garage and find a parking space on the third level. I park and look at every mirror.
What if he followed me? Marcus doesn’t know where I live. Of course, he can just access my HR profile for my address. I crane my neck every which way, now paralyzed to get out of the car.
“Breathe, Anna. Calm down. Think,” I mumble, closing my eyes momentarily.
Suddenly, the idea of being in this dim parking garage sends terror in my gut. Checking my surroundings again, I grab my purse and rush out of the car, straight to the elevators. I keep my back to the elevator as I wait for it to arrive. The silence coats the level like thick tar crawling slowly up my legs.
Ding
I rush inside the elevator, smashing my finger into number eight. The moment the doors close, the small space feels like a life raft. I exhale, pressing all my weight against the wall across the doors.
