CHAPTER TWO
Anna's PoV
"I should have warned you that Don Vincenzo loves playing mind games with his evaluators," Agent Adams said, rubbing his forehead.
"How about mentioning that he had them killed? You sent me on a suicide mission and expected results? I should consider myself lucky," I shot back. Agent Adams tried to speak, but I was already on my feet, heading for the exit.
Once outside, I made my way to the car and took a seat, waiting for Agent Adams.
"Look, I know I should have told you every detail. I am sorry. The fact that he did not use harsh words with you suggests he is willing to talk," Agent Adams said as he got into the car.
"I want nothing more to do with him," I declared firmly. Seeing my determination, Agent Adams started the engine and drove us away from the prison toward the airport.
After a long flight, I was back at my apartment. I noticed an unfamiliar car parked nearby, which made me curious and suspicious. Whoever owned that car must have come to see me.
As I entered my living room, I caught the smell of masculine cologne, putting me on high alert. Someone had definitely been inside my home.
I dropped my bag on the couch and heard dishes making noise in the kitchen. I looked around for something to defend myself with and settled for a remote control.
Carefully, I crept toward the kitchen, my heart racing. I tried to stay calm despite the worried thoughts swirling in my head.
When I stepped into the kitchen, I found no one there, just broken plates on the floor.
"Damn it," I muttered, bending down to pick up the pieces.
"Sorry for the mess." I jumped up, turning to face a huge man, nearly seven feet tall. "A remote, really?" He questioned, looking at my makeshift weapon.
"Who are you and how did you get in here?" I demanded.
"You should cook more often. I am tired of takeout, knowing the boss has a girl who can cook," he said mysteriously.
"What are you talking about? I am calling the police," I declared, reaching for my phone. To my shock, it was not in my purse.
"Looking for this?" He waved my phone in a taunting way.
"Give that back!" I tried to grab it, but he held it out of reach. "Who are you? Why are you stalking me?"
"Let us discuss this in the living room," he suggested, motioning for me to follow.
I sat on the couch, watching him make himself comfortable and helping himself to cookies from my refrigerator.
"Are you going to explain yourself, or should I call the police?" I asked, irritated by how calm he was acting.
"Relax, Doctor Sinclair. If I meant you harm, you would not have known I was here," he said, rolling his eyes and putting his feet on the table.
"Then speak!" I snapped, losing patience.
"I am here to offer protection," he replied simply.
"I do not need protection. Get out of my house!" I was furious at this stranger's boldness.
"You might not think you need it, but I have been watching your place for days. Someone would have my head if I did not do my job."
What was he talking about? I clearly remembered leaving for Chicago with no strange cars outside my apartment.
"You still have not answered my question. Who are you?" I pressed.
He leaned forward, thinking about his words carefully. "I do not usually break protocol, but I will make an exception... I am Leo Jones, Don Vincenzo Torrino's right-hand man."
His revelation stunned me. How could Don Vincenzo have sent someone while he was in prison?
"Do you think I am naive? Don Vincenzo is in prison. He could not have given you orders from there," I argued.
"You underestimate Don Vincenzo, doctor. There is a lot you do not know about him," Leo stated.
I studied him, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. "If Don Vincenzo sent you, why?"
"Why do you not ask him yourself?" He smirked, pulling out a phone. "A call from Don Vincenzo might convince you I am telling the truth."
I watched as he dialed a number and put it on speaker. When the call connected, he held the phone toward me.
"I take it you have met Leo," Don Vincenzo's familiar voice came through, catching me off guard.
"This is impossible. You cannot make calls from prison," I said, not believing it.
"I make calls because I am Don Vincenzo Torrino. I advise you to keep quiet about this, or you might find yourself in trouble," his voice became deeper, the threat clear in his tone.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked.
"I want to see you again, Anna. You have had your first session. I am looking forward to the nex
t one." With that, he hung up, leaving me more confused and unsettled than ever.