He pauses. "Stay out of sight. I'll see who it is."
As he disappears down the stairs, I move to my bedroom, pulling my emergency backpack from under the bed. I've had it ready since the day I entered witness protection. Clothes, toiletries, some cash, and my real identification hidden in a secret pocket.
My hands shake as I add a few more items to the bag: the photo of my parents I keep hidden in my nightstand, my favorite book, the small stuffed rabbit I've had since childhood. Silly, sentimental things that won't help me survive, but I can't bear to leave them behind.
Chapter 5 - Knight
I move silently down the stairs, years of military training kicking in. Place each foot carefully, avoid the spots that creak. Right hand hovering near my lower back where my Glock would normally be, but it's in the truck. Damn renovation cover.
The knocking at the front door grows more insistent. I pause at the bottom of the stairs, peering through the crack between the door and jamb into the darkened bookstore.
Two figures visible through the glass storefront. Men in suits. Not Wilson and Cruz. These are different. One tall and wiry, one stockier with a military buzz cut. Both with hands inside their jackets.
I hate that I had to lie to Beth upstairs. Pretending I had no idea who she is, what her situation entails. Playing dumb when she mentioned a protection detail. Watching the fear and confusion on her face while I feigned ignorance.
The lies don't sit right, but they're necessary. If she knew Reaper had sent me, that I've been tracking her protection detail, that the Outlaw Order MC is involved... she'd bolt. Any reasonable person would.
The taller man cups his hands against the glass, peering inside. Then he steps back, says something to his partner. The stocky one nods, moves toward the alley that leads to the back entrance.
They're splitting up to cover both exits.
I ease back up three steps, then hurriedly but quietly return to the apartment.
Beth is standing in the living room, backpack clutched to her chest, eyes wide with fear.
"We need to move. Now," I tell her, keeping my voice low. "Two men downstairs. They're trying to cover both entrances."
"The agents from before?"
"Different ones. They have guns out."
Her face goes pale. "Oh god."
"Is there another way out of this building? Fire escape? Roof access?"
She nods quickly. "There's a maintenance ladder in the hallway outside the apartment. It goes to the roof."
"Perfect. Let's go."
I guide her into the hallway, scanning for the ladder. It's at the far end—a metal pull-down affair that probably hasn't been used in years.
Behind us, I hear the back door of the bookstore opening. Heavy footsteps on the stairs. I reach up and yank the ladder down, wincing at the screech of metal against metal. So much for stealth.
"Go," I whisper urgently to Beth. "All the way to the roof. I'll be right behind you."
She hesitates for just a second, then starts climbing, her backpack slung over one shoulder. I follow close behind, pulling the ladder up after us as we clear the ceiling access panel.
We emerge onto a flat roof, typical of the old buildings on Main Street. Gravel underfoot, air conditioning units humming. The sun is bright after the dim hallway, momentarily disorienting.
"This way," I say, leading her toward the south side of the building. "The buildings on this block are connected. We can cross to the next one."
Beth follows without question, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. I want to reassure her, tell her I won't let anything happen to her, but there's no time.
The next building is slightly lower than the bookstore. A drop of about four feet.
"I'll go first," I tell her. "Then I'll help you down."
I jump the gap easily, landing in a crouch on the neighboring roof. Then I turn and hold my arms up.
