Page 7 of Victor's Lethal Desire
As soon as my foot hits the third step, a floorboard creaks above me.
I freeze.
The shower is still running. The bathroom door is still closed. But that creak came from somewhere else. Down the hallway. Away from the bathroom.
Fuck.
Someone else is in the house.
My mind races through possibilities. A girlfriend maybe? My intel said he lived alone. My surveillance confirmed no regular visitors. No second car. No other name on the utility bills.
But intel is only as good as the information available, and clearly, I missed something.
I remain motionless on the third step, gun raised, every muscle coiled tight. The creak doesn't repeat. The shower continues its steady hiss. There's no footsteps, voices, or a door opening or closing.
Maybe it was nothing. Old houses settle. Pipes expand.
Or maybe someone is standing in that hallway right now, listening just as intently as I am.
I take another step, then another. My eyes scan the landing above, searching for movement in the shadows. The yellow light from the bathroom doesn't reach far enough to illuminate theother doors. Two, maybe three additional rooms up here based on the layout.
I reach the landing and swing the gun from side to side, covering the hallway. Three doors. Two closed on the left. One partly open on the right.
I'm pretty sure the creak came from the right.
I move toward it slowly. My heart beats steady in my chest. Not racing. Not panicking. This is just another variable to account for. Another problem to solve.
I reach the door and listen.
Nothing.
My left hand reaches for the doorknob while my right keeps the gun trained center mass on where someone would be standing if they're waiting on the other side. I push the door open in one smooth motion and sweep the room with my gun.
It's a bedroom. Unmade bed. Clothes on the floor. Curtains drawn. The window is open slightly, cold air filtering in and stirring the curtains.
But most importantly, it's empty.
I exhale slowly through my nose and back out of the room, pulling the door partially closed again.
Damn false alarm.
Suddenly, the shower shuts off.
I turn toward the bathroom as the pipes groan and shudder. Shit, he's getting out.
I move quickly now, crossing to the closed door on the left side of the hallway. I push it open and slide inside just as the bathroom door opens.
I glance around. It's the office.
A desk sits against the far wall beneath a window that overlooks the backyard. A computer monitor, keyboard, scattered papers. Filing cabinet in the corner. Bookshelves lined with binders and folders that probably haven't been opened in years.
I take a step and I'm suddenly pushed.
4
DANIKA
Ipark two streets over and walk. Well, I jog a little. I've learned it's the perfect cover for me. No one suspects a lone woman jogger to be running through a neighborhood looking for a target to kill.
