CHAPTER 19
Jameson
Geneva, Switzerland
She wasn’t panicked. She was focused, crossing the apartment in tight, efficient lines as she pulled open drawers, grabbed what mattered, and discarded what didn’t.
A bag hit the floor next to me with a dull thud.
Clothes. At least that was good.
I stayed where I was, watching what she reached for first, what she left behind, and how long each decision took.
She crossed back toward the table, camera already in her hands. The strap brushed against her wrist as she flipped it over, checking the memory card with quick, practiced movements.
“Tell me when you’re ready,” I said, keeping my voice level.
She didn’t look up. “Two seconds,” she said, already turning, scanning for something. “Where the hell is my charger?”
Her eyes tracked across the counter, then toward the far side of the room.
I stepped closer, following her line of sight. “Where did you last have it?”
“Helpful,” she muttered.
She reached for the edge of the table, fingers already closing around a loose cord.
Then she turned.
The balcony doors exploded inward.
A thin whistle cut through the air between us, buried inside the sound.
A fraction of a second later, the lamp behind her burst apart, scattering ceramic and glass across the wall.
I moved before the rest of the calculation finished.
“Down!” I shouted.
I drove into her, one arm wrapping around her waist as I forced her forward.
We hit the floor hard as another shot cracked through the room above us, close enough to send plaster dust across my shoulder.
Her voice broke in a sudden scream, then cut off almost as quickly as it started.
I forced her down behind the couch, my body angled over hers, scanning through the broken frame of the balcony doors.
My hand found the grip at my thigh on instinct, but drawing on a blind angle was useless. No origin, no target, no shot.
“Stay down,” I said, pushing her toward the apartment door, our bodies pressed low and hidden behind the couch.
She pushed up under me. “My camera,” she whispered, her voice a ragged thread against the ringing in my ears.
I reached back for the camera she’d dropped when we dove and shoved it toward her. “Take it,” I said, keeping my eyes on the opening.
She didn’t hesitate. One hand on the camera, the other dragging the laptop bag up from the floor.
Glass crunched under my boots as I reached for the only lamp still on and switched it off.
The room dropped into shadow.
If they had night optics, it wouldn’t matter. If they didn’t, it bought us seconds.
Seconds were enough.
“Move,” I said, catching her wrist and pulling her toward the hallway.
She stumbled once when her injured heel struck the floor, caught herself against the wall, then kept up.
We crossed the apartment fast, staying low. I didn’t look back at the balcony.
I didn’t check for movement. There wasn’t time for confirmation. Only exit.
The hallway door came up on the right.
I pulled it open, checked left, then right.
Clear, for now.
“Go,” I said, pushing her through ahead of me as I grabbed both duffels and slung them over my shoulders.
She moved, holding the laptop bag tight against her side.
“Oh my God,” she muttered under her breath. “I’m going to end up in a bathtub.”
I glanced at her, but she was already moving. There wasn’t time to ask what that meant.
I followed, closing the distance, one hand at her back keeping her moving.
Behind us, the apartment sat open and exposed, glass scattered everywhere.
Still nothing followed. That didn’t mean we were clear.
We hit the stairwell instead of the elevator.
It was less predictable and gave me more control.
Her steps were fast but uneven, each landing forcing more weight onto the injured heel before she adjusted and kept moving.
I stayed one step behind, listening past her movement.
Nothing above or below.
We didn’t stop until we hit the ground-level exit.
The cold night air hit hard as we cleared the door, raw and damp against my lungs. Gravel shifted under our feet as we moved, her uneven steps quick enough to match mine.
“Where are we going?” she asked, breath uneven but steady, holding the camera and laptop bag tight against her sides as she kept pace beside me.
“Car’s a few blocks out,” I said, not slowing as I scanned the street ahead. “Keep moving.”