She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but Gabi Montgomery had the feeling something was off ever since she entered her apartment an hour ago. She couldn’t figure out why, but her space felt invaded somehow. The feeling un-nerved her. Her attempt at a sexy soak in the bath with a book and a glass of wine didn’t help to wind her down. In fact, she got out of the tub the minute she got in because she started feeling like she’d be at a disadvantage if someone walked into the room.
This particular fear is unwarranted, because she lived alone. But, she never second guessed feelings like these. She couldn’t afford to. And the more time that passed, the more pronounced the feeling was.
She looked at her reflection in passing the mirror. Wet, relaxed hair hung down her back. Her chocolate coloured skin, so dark she almost disappears in the dark with her usual skin-tight, all black attire was draped tightly over her fit physique. Bold eyes with the ability to bare the soul of anyone who looked into them, high cheek bones, a plump nose and sculpted lips. At five feet, eight inches tall, 135 lbs, she was the girl everyone mistook for the 22 year old model. She never bothered to tell most people she’s a decade older than that, and while her job required a walk of stealth, grace and fluidity, a runway was not where she did it. She required an audience of none to be successful.
“Gabz, you’re a mess”.
She tried talking to herself out loud, albeit only loud enough to carry to her ears. It had been a long week. Perhaps a pedicure would soothe whatever anxiety she has been feeling. She walked into the second bedroom in her apartment to find her nail kit. She stepped through the door and every hair on the back of her neck stood up. She froze. Her heart raced and beat an erratic, loud rhythm in her ears. Within a second she controlled it. Light, even breathing and acute awareness as she looked around the room, allowing her pulse to slow to a reptilian hibernation pace. She was a human weapon and at the moment fully charged and in tune. Something was wrong. Her sixth sense was as sharp as a guillotine.
She silently scanned the dark room, then looked behind her and moved swiftly, silently to the nightstand in her bedroom and picked up her service Glock. She walked back to the spare bedroom and spoke.
“Don’t let me come looking for you. Come out now and save us both the hassle.”
Her voice carried a deadly calmness that most people found chilling, mirroring the blank emotionless expression she wore like a second skin.
An ever so slight movement from the far side of the room caught her eye and she flexed her fingers and arms in a motion as fluid as the flow of water, raising her weapon in the instant it took to happen.
Someone was in her apartment.