January 19th, two months later

Ben

As soon as we pull up to the curb by our FBI-provided safehouse, I know something is off. I can't tell what's wrong exactly, but I know something isn't right. I look over to the van permanently stationed across the street, the outline of two men barely visible in the front seat. The FBI gave us a revolving patrol so that at least two agents are always out here watching the safehouse.

I look back to the house we've been living in for almost eight weeks, since the day Ana and I started working with the FBI. Nothing seems to be amiss in the dim light from the streetlamp. Still, something's off. I'm wary as I walk to the front door, eyeing the cars parked on the street, looking for something out of the ordinary. Everything's fine. But my gut says something else. I unlock the front door and open it for Ana, letting her enter first. I turn back around to give the neighborhood one more careful inspection.

"Ben." Ana's voice pulls my attention back to the house.

"What?"

"The lights won't turn on."

"What?" I reach for the light switch and flip it, but nothing happens. A cold dread settles in the pit of my stomach. "Is the lightbulb burned out?" I ask, hoping that's all it is.

"All three of them? At once? Do you know the probability of that happening?"

Ana's face says the probability isn't good. She moves to the living room and flicks another switch. Nothing.

"The power's been cut."

Ana's eyes widen and she stares at me wordlessly.

I unholster my gun in a split second, scanning the room in the dim lighting.

"Stay behind me," I bark before raising my weapon up and beginning to search the small house. Ana doesn't say a word as I clear each room. Whoever did this isn't in the house now.

"The front door was still locked. They must not have come inside," she says, her voice betraying the fear concealed by the shadows of the darkened house.

"I'm going to search around the perimeter of the house. You stay here," I say, taking her back to the living room. "If something happens, you sprint for the van and scream like hell." I walk over to the sliding glass door and unlock it in case we need to use it in a hurry. "Take this door if the front is blocked and vice versa. If both are blocked, find a window. Got it?"

She nods, moving to hide in the shadows at the corner of the room.

I close the front door on my way out before carefully walking the perimeter of the house, looking for any signs of forced entry. After seeing nothing unusual, I start to wonder if it's nothing more than a local blackout. The light shining from the neighbors' porches quickly negates that theory. Maybe there was a problem with the billing through the utility company and they shut off power in lieu of payment? That happened to us once after Isabela passed and Mama forgot to pay the bills on time.

Ana's earlier comment about probabilities echos through my mind and I switch back to the intruder theory. I head around the back of the house once more. On the opposite side, I notice the electric meter mounted to the outside wall of the house. I pull out my phone and use the flashlight to inspect it. Nothing looks wrong with it. As I lower my phone to turn off the light, my eye catches something metallic in the grass. I bend down and pick it up. It's a small padlock. It's been cut open. I raise the small lock up to the electric meter and notice the spot where the lock used to be. I pry open the metal box and shine the light inside. Cut wires dangle in the box. I can feel the adrenaline course through me as my heart rate kicks up a notch. This was intentional and whoever did this has something planned.

I turn around and head over to the FBI van, seething with anger. These two were stationed here to prevent something exactly like this from happening! What have they been doing, sleeping on the job while someone came right up to the side of the house and cut the electric lines? Such unprofessionalism. Such blatant disregard for Ana's life!

I'm ready to tear them a new one as I nearly rip the passenger door off its hinges. And that's when I see it. Both of them are still sitting in the front seats - I don't know why that didn't set off alarm bells before. As soon as they arrived, they should have gone into the back of the van where the surveillance equipment is. But they never got the chance, because both of them are dead. I pull out my cell phone again to see a small dark spot on the side of each man's temple. Then I smell the blood.

There aren't any signs of a struggle, so they must have been taken completely by surprise, shortly after shift change. What time is shift change? Mid-afternoon? So whoever did this has had uninterrupted access to the property for several hours.

And now Ana is alone in that dark house with no one there to protect her.

I turn and see that the front door is standing open. I left it closed. I curse and fling myself away from the van, sprinting for the house as I hear Ana's shriek.

I burst into the living room, gun raised, to find the shadowy figure of a man holding a gun pointed at Ana.

"Tell me where that money is or I'll kill you right now!" he shouts.

Ana stands completely still in the middle of the room, her hands up and her face white with terror. Her eyes look over to me, but her expression doesn't change.

I have a very, very short time to make potentially life-saving or life-ending decisions. I can't rush him and risk his gun going off and hitting Ana. I can't shoot him because he's standing too close to Ana. If I announce my presence, he can threaten to hurt Ana to keep himself safe. But if I surprise him and distract him for long enough, I might be able to get the gun away from him before he can turn this into a hostage situation.

Decision made, my focus shifts back to Ana. She's still staring at me. If she keeps that up, our gun-wielding intruder is going to notice. I signal to her by pointing to my eyes with two fingers, then pointing to the intruder. To my relief, she seems to understand, because she finally stops staring at me.

"Your gang has tortured me long enough to know that I can't help you. I've been threatened by people much scarier than you and they've done a lot worse than just point a gun at me. I've already told your gang everything. I don't know where your money is."

I use the sound of Ana's voice to conceal the sounds of my movement as I approach from the side. Her words clearly irritate the man as he adjusts his grip on the gun, providing even more distraction. Whoever this guy is, I don't think he's been doing this for very long. He pulls his gun back to gesture as he begins to speak.

I take advantage of the man's naivety and rush him, knocking the gun from his hand and shouting to confuse him further. He stumbles back into a patch of light from the street lamps and I realize I know him. It's Pablo, the guy who first trusted me enough to bring me into the gang in the first place. Probably the guy who hates my guts more than anyone else in this world. I wonder how he's been punished for bringing a cop into their confidence.

His surprise lasts only a moment. Before I can bring up my gun, he uses a similar technique to disarm me, stealing my advantage. Then he pulls a knife from somewhere and holds it aggressively, preparing to strike.

I'm screwed. Pablo may not be very good at wielding guns and intimidating witnesses, but I've seen him fight. Unless I find something to use to my advantage, he's going to kill me right here in the living room of my own safehouse.

"Long time, no see, Pablo. How's things?"

"Ben?" I hear the shock in his voice. "So it's true then? You're the one who let her escape? You're a f---ing cop?"

I don't get a chance to answer, because he rushes me. Hoping Ana had the good sense to run while the intruder was distracted, I sidestep the assault. I just barely manage to escape the sharp blade, but I hear the sound of my shirt catching on the knife and tearing. I turn sharply to face him again, catching my breath and trying to plan the best way to take down an attacker with a knife. I've trained for this, but never against someone like Pablo.

From this new vantage point of the room, I can see that Ana has disappeared. But my gun is probably somewhere near Pablo's feet now. I search the ground for both firearms, unable to spot mine in the darkness of the room.

My attention flashes back to Pablo as he bellows, "Answer me!"

"Yeah, I'm a cop. Working undercover with you was a great experience. Thanks to you, I might make Detective soon. Thanks so much for inviting me in."

That blow hits home and Pablo roars as he rushes at me again. This time I'm expecting it and I can better dodge his swipe and counterattack, a blow to the side of the head. Pablo's caught off-guard by the punch and is distracted long enough for me to search the ground near where I knocked the gun from his hands. I can see the faint outline of the weapon near the corner of the room. I can't let him notice it. I've got to get to it before he does, which means luring Pablo into coming at me again so I can dodge and make for the gun.

I don't have to do anything to lure him, because he's already preparing to come at me again.

"You son of a -" he lunges for me and I try to dodge again, but this time he's gotten smarter. I find myself stopped short by the sharp end of a knife pressed into my throat. Damn.

"I trusted you. I brought you in. Do you have any idea what they're gonna do to me now?" His voice rises until he's nearly screaming at me. Then he switches to a quieter, more disturbing tone. "But, if I bring back your body and the girl, maybe they'll let me off the hook."

"Come on, Pablo, you know that'll never work. You brought in a narc. You're the reason you lost Ana and you're the reason Rigo and Carlos are in custody. You think Alvarez is just going to forget about that?" Pablo snarls at me. "It's worth a try, especially if it means I get to kill you."

I look in his eyes and even in the dim room, I see cold hatred there. He's going to do it.

In a burst of movement, I lean away from the knife, my left hand coming up to grab Pablo's wrist and my right punching him in the face. He recovers too quickly and before I can grab his shoulder and send a knee into his gut, he's shoving me back against the wall.

Now I'm trapped. I've still got hold of Pablo's wrist, but he's fighting me for it, for control of the knife. If I don't get it away from him, I'm dead. But then my grip loosens and he presses the knife to my throat again and I'm out of options.

It can't end this way. Not before I get justice for my sister. Not with Ana hiding here undefended. If he kills me, she's dead. My mother can't lose her only remaining child. It'd kill her. I have to live.

The deafening sound of a gun firing in an enclosed space interrupts my manic stream of consciousness. I don't know what's happened until Pablo suddenly isn't pinning me to the wall anymore. He's reeling back, clutching at his leg and groaning in pain. The knife is on the ground now and there's a gun near his feet. Desperate to reach it before Pablo notices it, I lunge for him, knocking him over and snatching up the gun simultaneously. Instead of shooting him right there, I hit him in the head with the gun so hard that he drops like a stone.

Before he's even hit the ground, I bring the gun up, which I've noticed isn't mine, and search for the shooter. Pablo might have been brought down by friendly fire. They might have been aiming for me and missed. My gaze flies wildly around until it fixes on Ana. She's standing in the entryway, holding my gun in her hands, still aimed at about the level of my thigh, though not pointing at me.

"Is he dead?" she asks in a voice with more calm than I'd expected Ana could muster after shooting someone.

"Unconscious," I answer.

She breathes a sigh of relief and lowers the gun, pointing the barrel to the floor before handing it back to me.

"You might try aiming higher next-"

"Phoenix Police! Don't move!"

Jones bursts into the living room, gun drawn.

I raise my hands. "It's OK, Jones. We're fine."

"I heard gunfire. What happened?" she demands.

"He came in and tried to kill us," I say, pointing at Pablo bleeding on the floor. "I neutralized him."

"Was he alone?"

"For now, but I wouldn't bet on that staying true for long. He definitely doesn't know enough about electrical wiring to cut the power. He had help."

"Back up will be here in five. I'm taking you two out of here before another one of your gang buddies decides to play Terminator."

"He wasn't trying to kill me," Ana says.

"What?" I ask. We both turn and look at her. She's kneeling on the floor next to Pablo, holding a towel to his bleeding leg.

"He threatened to, but that wasn't his real goal. Didn't you hear him? He wanted me to tell him where the money is. Despite everything that's happened, they still think I'm hiding it."

"Doesn't matter. Ana, stop nursing the would-be murderer and grab your things. You won't be coming back here."

"But I shot him."

"She did what?" Jones turns on me.

"Ana, Jones is right. They know where to find us and we're vulnerable here. We need to get out now."

"But I did this to him," she says, indicating the bullet wound in Pablo's leg.

"And I'm sure the paramedics will take very good care of him." I look over at Jones. "Call an ambulance."

Jones pulls out her phone to call dispatch while Ana and I grab our things. In five minutes, we're ready to go, everything we currently own stashed in our bags.

"I'm going to have to give another statement again, aren't I?" asks Ana with a groan.

"You shot someone with a police officer's gun. There are going to be questions."

"I hope I blackout again," Ana mutters darkly.