Chapter 10 #2
It made sense. No reason for any of the attendees to sneak into the rooms. Not when they had access during the day. Could make arrangements to have their clandestine meetings hidden away without having to pay someone off.
And, with the amount of tech securing the doors, breaking in was suicidal. Guaranteed to get you arrested, or worse—shot on sight.
Seeing Olivia disappear around the corner into the adjoining hallway got Phoenix moving. He paused in the first doorway, copying her approach. Aware far more of him was showing. That he could barely wedge himself between the frame let alone hide any significant amount of his body in there.
Didn’t matter because he wasn’t staying long.
Just counting down the few seconds until the camera panned to the other side, then he was booking it.
Straight down the outside of the corridor.
Sticking to the deepest shadows. Body crouched.
His right shoulder hugging the wall. Boots silent against the concrete floor.
He barely paused at the next junction. Stayed long enough to map out the other cameras. Turn left then make a dash for the second door on the right. The only one that might not be locked.
A twist of the handle, and he was in. Darting behind the door. Straining to hear any indication he’d blown it. Announced his presence. Put Olivia at risk because she was gone. Vanished. Had dashed around the corner then disappeared.
Maybe she’d found another washroom to hide in. Was poised behind an identical door, just like him. Listening. Waiting.
Sixty seconds, and nothing but the odd drip from the tap on the far wall.
The faint echo of water rushing down the pipes.
He inched forward, grabbed the handle, then chanced a look.
The hallway was empty, the light at the far end flickering.
Dead, then half-strength. Like in the movies.
A warning sign that things were about to get bloody.
Had the air shifted? Electrified? Because it felt charged, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Phoenix didn’t know what was coming—who was coming—only that something was.
Hearing footsteps a moment later had him cursing. Edging back. Listening to the steady progression down the hall. Definitely two tangos. One heavy, one light. The lighter one with a slight limp. Possibly a knee injury, one foot dragging a bit before tapping the floor.
The footfalls stopped. Retreated, then moved forward, again. They were checking the doors. Seeing if they were locked. Maybe opening them and scanning each room before moving on.
Security. Had to be.
Phoenix didn’t know if they were hired help or military. Possibly CIA. How thorough they’d be. If they’d turn on lights, or just run a flashlight around the space.
Neither was good. Not when there wasn’t a stall for him to hide in. Any concrete cover other than a wall with a garbage can directly to his left. Neither of which would conceal him if the guards walked all the way in. Did more than just wave a beam around the room.
They were getting closer. Probably halfway down that first corridor.
Were taking their time, the murmur of voices suggesting this was a routine check.
If they’d spotted him or Olivia, they’d be charging down the hallway.
Trying to be silent, not chatting about football scores.
Making enough sound any asshole with half a brain could easy follow their movements.
Phoenix eased the door shut, staying behind it, his back pressed into the wall.
Making sure not even a whisper of breath sounded around him.
He could take care of the two guards. Next to Six, he’d been considered the deadliest in his squad.
Another by-product of years of abuse. His “nothing-to-lose” attitude.
But knocking out two security assholes wasn’t going to garner him any favors. Would cause a full-scale investigation to ensue. And Phoenix was pretty damn sure they’d see something on the video footage, even if they couldn’t ID him or Olivia. But it would be enough their mission would be a bust.
Not a problem. He’d stay behind the door. Do everything he could to remain hidden. With the way the men were moving, he wasn’t overly concerned they’d scour every inch of the bathroom. Would do more than flash the light around then carry on. The only wildcard was Olivia.
He still didn’t know where she was. If she could conceal herself. If she was even aware a patrol was walking down the hallway. No doubt she excelled at her job, but if she got caught…
He sighed. He’d react accordingly if her life was at risk, regardless of whether it compromised the mission.
If it meant he’d face criminal charges or get locked up in some black ops jail site.
Teammates came first. Period. Just because this one boiled his blood—made him acutely aware of how far off the deep end he’d ventured—didn’t mean he wouldn’t have her back.
The fact he had unresolved feelings for her only strengthened his resolve.
Had him running scenarios through his head in case he needed to adapt.
Like now. Having the door handle rattle before the whole thing swung open, stopping just shy of hitting him, as a beam of light danced around the space.
No distinct pattern, just a quick sweep from left to right, then it was gone.
The door slowly closing on a soft whoosh.
All of five seconds, and they were moving on. Those footsteps heading away.
Maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about Olivia. Not if they checked every room that way. Obviously assuming the area was impenetrable. That no one would be crazy enough to try and break in.
Olivia was. And Phoenix had followed her in just as readily.
No schematics. No backup. Just his years of training, and a Sig Sauer tucked into a shoulder holster.
He had a silencer and an extra mag. Handy but not nearly enough if they ran into heavy resistance.
Especially when he was pretty sure Olivia wasn’t packing anything other than that tech she’d used to bypass the locks.
Was that a British thing, or just an MI6 thing?
Or was she secretly great at throwing knives, too?
Had a dozen of them stashed inside her suit, somewhere.
Like Gibson. Some hidden art they taught instead of sharp shooting.
Though, Phoenix was pretty sure Gibson could hit a target at nearly the same range as he did.
Was that a click?
Phoenix listened against the door before slivering it open. Shifting to the other side in order to get a view down the hallway. The same direction the men had walked—their voices still carrying down the corridor.
Darkened shadows lined the walls, the occasional flicker of light still flashing in the distance. He waited, senses honed, his body primed to fight, when he caught a glimpse of movement. A dart of black amidst the shadows.
Olivia.
She crept along the hallway, body flattened against the side, crouched low to blend in with the dark patches. She moved slowly, still ducking into any available doorway when the camera must have panned her way. She’d just reached the corner when a door slammed closed in the distance.
She froze, glancing down each direction before removing something from a pocket. She held up one hand, staring at her palm as she angled it toward the entrance.
A mirror. Or blade. Something to reflect the main corridor.
Phoenix didn’t need to see the surface to know that someone had just entered the area. Her face said it all. Narrowed eyes, tight lips. An involuntary inhalation, her pulse beating faster beneath her skin.
Her reactions were followed by more of those heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. Only these weren’t stopping and starting. They were steady. Distinct. A person with a purpose.
Olivia edged back, looking as if she was going to retreat to whatever room she’d been hiding in, when those two guard’s voices picked up, as another door shut farther up the hall.
They were coming back. Their footfalls mimicking the other guy. The one already halfway down the corridor judging by the increased tap of his boots. The raspy curse when he tripped. Hit the wall with a dull thud.
She was trapped, with guards closing in on both sides. She had maybe five seconds before she’d be exposed. Wouldn’t be able to simply hide in one of the doorways.
A step back, and she was preparing to fight. Had shifted her weight onto her toes, looked ready to lash out. Phoenix knew she’d challenge the newcomer, first. Take him out, then hope she could dart up the hallway and out before the others caught up.
It was a smart plan, except where the others were walking faster. Closing in on her. Changing the dynamics so they’d all arrive at that corner at the same time.
Fuck that. No way he was going to stand there and chance she’d get hurt. That they wouldn’t shoot, first, then worry who’d they’d killed, second. This was a secure area. Simply being there painted her as a spy. A possible terrorist, and Phoenix knew the situation would turn ugly. Fast.
Two steps, and he had her in his arms, deflected the elbow aimed at his chest. The foot trying to kick him in the knee.
Another second, and he’d spun her around.
Had that stunning green gaze pinned on his.
He didn’t wait for her to move, just picked her up and darted back into the washroom. Prayed they hadn’t been spotted.
Hearing those footsteps increase had him cussing. Motioning for her to duck behind the wall. Crouch in the space beside the trash can. They both wouldn’t fit. Not without a large portion of one of them sticking out, but she’d be decently concealed. As long as they didn’t turn on the lights…