Chapter Ninety-One
Raine
The building is the definition of office park ordinary.
One story. Glass front, broken only by four vertical columns.
“Inara has eyes on the interior,” Natasha says as she pulls into the parking lot.
“Guard behind a desk. Voss is dead center, two feet from a security door. Asher’s got two men on him.
Holding his arms. Four more spread around the lobby. ”
“Blind spots?”
Natasha repeats the question, eases the SUV up to the curb, and shifts into park. “She’s four hundred meters out, fifteen degrees southwest of the doors. Open sight lines, but the columns provide limited cover. Watch your angles.”
I scan the roofline out the far window. I can’t see her from here, but I trust she’s there.
My thumb drifts to my index finger, finds nothing, and I squeeze my eyes shut for a single breath. “The second he’s in the car…go. Don’t let the guards get near you.”
Natasha meets my gaze in the rearview mirror, then touches the pistol strapped to her hip. “If they try, they’ll regret it.”
With a nod, I put in one of the earplugs, then open the car door.
Inside, I don’t spare Voss a single glance. I zero in on Asher. On the guards holding him up. On the dark stain covering too much of his torn shirt.
He lifts his head—I can see the strain in every muscle of his neck—and his eyes find mine.
I freeze for two full seconds.
The video didn’t prepare me for this. I don’t know why I thought it would. Thirty hours of everything they could do to a person, and he’s still here. Still looking at me. Still—
I close the distance by half. Not a step more.
“Agent Calder.” Voss doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t yell or demand or gloat. “Right on time.”
I don’t take my eyes off of Asher. I can’t.
“Let me say goodbye to him. That was the agreement.”
Voss studies me for a moment. The slight tremor in my voice lands exactly where I intended. “Bring him to her.”
The two men carry him across the lobby. His boots drag on the old linoleum. He’s using everything he has just to hold his head up.
Up close, the inventory is so much worse. The pallor of his skin. Dried blood around the heavy cuffs securing his wrists in front of him. The careful, deliberate way his eyes track me, like he’s afraid he might lose me if he blinks too slowly.
I rest my palm against his cheek.
He exhales. Not a word. Only a simple breath that sounds like he’s been holding it since he left me.
“Can you stand? For a minute? Just you. And me.” I say softly.
His eyes close, then open slowly. I take that as a yes.
“Tell them to step away. This…is private.” I look at Voss, letting my shoulders fall just enough to mimic defeat.
“By all means.” Voss’s voice carries all the warmth of a man watching a match he’s already won. “Take your time.”
The two guards are kinder than I expect, letting me wrap one arm around Asher’s waist before they step back.
“I’ve got you,” I say. “I choose you.”
His sob is completely silent, catching in his throat and almost sending him to his knees. I adjust my stance, bracing him with my full weight. He lowers his head, the kiss full of all the things we can’t say to one another.
“Follow my lead,” I whisper against his lips.
His breath catches.
Dipping my hand into my pocket, I find the flash bang, then kiss him again. A tremor starts in his legs, works its way higher. If I rush this, Voss will see. If I don’t, Asher could collapse before he knows what I have planned.
As I ease the device into his hands, my fingers find a crumpled piece of paper. The way he looks at me when I touch it…the desperation in his eyes…
“Trade me.” Another whisper. Softer this time. The shaking has reached his core now. He doesn’t have another minute in him.
The exchange is awkward, but we manage. I guide his thumb to the switch. A thread of tension runs through his body. It’s subtle. Here and gone before anyone else notices. But his eyes sharpen. Track quicker now that he has a purpose.
Another kiss. Another instruction. “Seven seconds after they take you.”
“He won’t last much longer,” Voss calls from across the lobby. “Your plan cost him everything.”
The words are meant to break me. They don’t. Because I feel Asher’s resolve under my hands.
I lift my palm to his cheek again. Feel the stubble under my fingertips. Memorize the exact shade of his eyes.
Another kiss, because I want it. Because I have to hide the motion of putting the second earplug in. Because I traded everything for this, and I have one more thing to say. “After…stay low.”
I raise my head. “Take Mr. Locke to the car outside. Put him in the back seat, and step away.”
Asher’s gaze locks on mine as the guards grab his arms. When they take their first step, he lets his head fall forward.
I focus on Voss. “You kept your end of the bargain. I’m prepared to keep mine.”
One.
Hands. Too rough. Too sudden. Digging into my shoulders and shoving me to my knees with such force, the impact slams my teeth together.
Every nerve in my body fires at once.
Don’t move. Don’t speak.
My heart slams into my throat.
Focus. Count. Breathe.
Two.
“Her phone,” Voss says.
“R-right jacket…pocket,” I manage through clenched teeth. The guard finds it, raises it over his head.
Three.
Somewhere behind me, Asher is getting closer to freedom.
Four.
“I’ll disable the drop once Mr. Locke’s car pulls away.” I have to keep Voss focused on me.
Five.
Voss chuckles. “You’ve lost, Agent Calder. I want you to understand that.”
Six. I close my eyes.
He’s still talking. I don’t care. In another second, neither will he.
Seven.
Light and pressure and sound rattle my bones, even through the earplugs. My chest stutters. Nausea slams into me. I ignore it.
My elbow finds the back of a knee. The guard to my left crumples. I open my eyes, spin, and drive my fist into his throat. He claws at his neck, his windpipe crushed. He won’t get back up again.
The second guard has his hands over his eyes. Planting one foot, I drive my shoulder into his solar plexus. My bad shoulder. The objection it files is loud enough I hear my own scream through the foam and over the ringing in my ears and the shouts erupting all around me.
Asher. I have to find Asher.
My eyes are stinging. The smoke hasn’t cleared and the lobby is chaos, but I find him. Fifteen feet away.
Near the doors, a guard on the ground starts to stir, and I smile. He took one of them down with him. Exhausted, cuffed, he still managed to take one of them down. Inara will finish the job. I hope.
The other guard is dragging Asher backward by one ankle, headed for the security door. Asher is fighting—kicking, twisting, swinging his bound hands at anything he can reach. Every second he can buy is one I need.
“Hit the buzzer!” Voss shouts. Even the earplugs can’t mask the desperation in his voice. He bangs on the thick, steel door. “Reinforcements! We need—”
I yank out one of the foam plugs, the sudden pressure change making my vision waver. The lobby glass spiderwebs. Voss goes down, clutching his leg. The sound he makes isn’t a scream. It’s agony and defeat and terror.
The guy at the desk dives for the floor.
Asher is still fighting, but his movements are slower now, clumsy. With a rough tug on his leg, the guard slides him a full five feet.
No!
I take off at a run, then slam into him at full speed, but he’s twice my weight, and barely stumbles. His punch catches me above my ear, knocking the other foam plug free. I grab his wrist in one hand, his elbow in the other, and wrench them in opposite directions.
He fists the back of my hoodie. My heels leave the ground.
Asher’s bound hands slam into the back of his ankle. Not hard enough to bring him down, but enough he has to shift his weight, and I pitch forward against his chest.
My gaze locks on his. I smile and drive my knee into his groin. With a high-pitched yelp, he stumbles back until he hits the security desk.
A bright red stain blooms over his heart. He gasps, stares at the blood, and collapses.
Asher is on the floor three feet away, chest heaving, arms limp, eyes glassy.
I crouch down and touch his cheek. “I’m getting you out of here.” The words are rough and strained, but they’re enough he blinks up at me.
His legs curl toward his body. I help him roll onto his knees, get his feet under him, and duck under his bound arms. “Up. With me.”
The effort pulls a sound from my lips. His legs are doing little more than keeping him balanced while I move us one step at a time toward the front door.
To our left, the only guard still alive tightens a belt around Voss’s upper thigh. The doctor screams in pain.
Good. But not good enough.
I pull the ceramic knife from my pocket, depress the mechanism, and let the snick speak for itself. The guard jerks his head up, his eyes wide.
Arching my brows, I adjust my grip on the blade. His gaze moves from the shattered glass window to me. He rises, lifts his bloody hands, and steps back.
One more step. Two, and we stop next to Voss.
His calm, clinical superiority is gone now. The bleeding has slowed with the tourniquet. Enough he might live if someone gets to him in the next few minutes.
“Please.” His voice is broken. “Please, I can’t—”
I look up at Asher. I don’t need his permission for what comes next, but I want to know we’re on the same page. He manages the smallest of nods.
Leaning down, I drag the blade across the leather. It splits easily. Voss tries to press his hands to the wound, but every frantic beat of his heart bleeds more of his life away.
The moment he understands he’s about to die is the last one I’ll ever give him. “Come on,” I murmur, my lips close to Asher’s ear. “We’re leaving.”