Page 93 of Seven
The silhouette didn't move but spoke, "Put the knife down."
The voice was unmistakable. It took me a second to believe it. Then my legs almost gave out as I walked over to the couch.
"Jesus fuck," I whispered. My hand was shaking, and I set the knife on the coffee table. "What are you doing here? And how did you get in?" I released a tiny laugh and added, "Stupid question for someone of your occupation, right?"
He stood up, took a step toward me, rounding the coffee table, and pausing right where the moonlight filtered into the room through the window illuminating his body a little. Black hoodie, dark jeans, boots. The lower half of his face was covered with the bandana. But the eyes—gray and sharp—looked right at me.
I felt it in my bone marrow, that penetrating gaze. But instead of feelingall the normal things—like fear—a woman should feel when a strange man breaks into her apartment, I felt my stomach flutter.
"Sorry," Seven said, and it sounded almost genuine. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"You didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?"
He didn't say anything at first. He walked to the window, checked the street below, pulled the curtains together, then strode back to me. "We have to go. Now."
My mind hiccupped. "What do you mean?"
"You don't have much time, Kimmy. Pack the essentials and the documents. No more than you can carry."
I stared at him, blinking.
He reached into his pocket and handed me an envelope. I looked inside. Plane ticket. With Margaret's name, spelled correctly, with a flight out of LAX at 5:50 PM. Tomorrow. To Nassau.
"What the hell is this?" I stared at the ticket, then at him.
He didn't blink. "Your mother is going to the Bahamas."
My laugh came out as a choke. "You've got to be kidding me."
He moved fast, so fast I didn't have enough time to react. He closed the gap and took my hand—gently, but his grip was iron. The leather of his glove felt cool and smooth on my skin, and I remembered what it felt like when he didn't wear it the night of the stabbing. I remembered how warm and slightly calloused his skin was, how comfortable.
"Listen," he said. "The target is on you. He's not just watching anymore. He's the one who orchestrated the accident with your mother. If she doesn't leave town, there could be more. We intercepted a communication from the firm he's using. They're planning to pay you a visit. Tonight or tomorrow."
The gears of my mind churned. I pulled my hand free, even though deep down I didn't want to. "Why Nassau?"
"The Bureau has a former associate there. He'll keep an eye on your mother while she's there."
"You know she won't go on such short notice."
"You need to persuade her, Kimmy. Come up with a plausible lie and call her first thing in the morning." His voice was clipped. "If she's out of the picture, it buys me time to get closer to the target without getting distracted. Keeping an eye on you and her while trying to do my job will be risky."
My head spun. I tried to process it, but the logic was so bizarre it madeno sense. I shoved the ticket back at him, but he didn't take it. Instead, he pressed it back into my hand.
"We're wasting time by arguing," Seven said. "You need to pack."
I stared at him for a long moment, stared into his eyes, trying to see if he was sincere or if he had another motive.
"You can't just come here and turn my life upside down."
"Your life has been turned upside down a long time ago."
The nerve he had. "Why are things happening to me?" I hissed out. "Why can't this just end?"
"It will. Soon. I promise."
I took a deep breath.
"Kimmy, please," he whispered, his voice soft and strangely reassuring even though the sky was falling down.
