Her eyes met Ethan’s once more and she felt it. Not their connection, not this time. No, she felt it like a wave coming to crash at the shore, the sound and the feel of it coming closer and closer…she felt that same movement underneath her feet.
And she knew where the next explosion would be…
Underneath her.
The crack and blister of wood was the first sound she heard. With barely a second, she braced herself…
Then she lost sight of the man she loved and disappeared into the depths of the stage, the wood and glittering white of the stage decorations falling in on top of her.
She must have blacked out for a few moments because when she blinked her eyes open, she sensed that time had briefly passed. The screaming of guests and the pounding of running feet was loud but distant, as if they were all near the exits and far from her.
“Anda! Are you there?”
His voice. God, how many times had she imagined him calling her name. She loved that voice. She shouldn’t, but she did.
She felt the weight of debris over her. Though the heavy white drape of the stage backdrop managed to protect her from the harshest of the broken and battered wood, she was still covered in it.
In the dark underneath the stage, the only light from above filtering from the stage down into the hole she’d just fallen through, she tried to push some of the destruction away. Her hand jerked as a splinter dove into it, the sharp stab of pain a reminder of who she was and that she’d faced much worse in the past.
So, when the voice called again, she reminded herself that they could never be together, not just because of her own secret, but for his as well. They’d tried, hadn’t they? Tried and failed. There was no point pretending otherwise.
Still, to keep him back—who knew if another explosive was nearby?—she tried to call out, but let out a series of coughs instead.
“I hear you! I’m coming!”
She coughed and cleared her throat, trying to move but not getting far with her constricting dress. “I’m fine! Go help somebody else!” she rasped.
She heard him muttering and couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but she had a guess: he was coming to check on her no matter what she said.
He should go, help others who needed it more. He knew she could take care of herself—she was, after all, working on the longest undercover job in existence. She was a tough bitch, who’d been through some serious shit. Fuck, yes, she could take care of herself. She had been, for many, many years, since long before he ever entered the picture.
She tried to move again, shifting some debris off her left leg, which was bare due to a convenient slit in her dress up to her knees. She tore the slit higher, to her upper thigh, gaining movement and access to the gun she had strapped there. It was held there by a holster of her own design, made to look like a standard, sexy garter. She pulled out the weapon, checked it, and set it down while she adjusted the garter a little to hide the part of it that would reveal what it was. Someone would need to look closely indeed to discover what it really was but, hopefully in the mayhem surrounding them, no one would give it a second glance.
Then again, she had fucking great legs, so some people were bound to notice it, but with any luck they’d be looking at her skin and not the garter itself.
“Stop moving! You could be hurt.”
She rolled her eyes as the sound of his crunching feet and shifting debris came closer and closer. She flipped off her incredibly beautiful, expensive—and unfortunately damaged—shoes so she could maneuver more easily. Even over debris, it would be easier to go barefoot than in sky-high heels, though she’d trained to run in both.
Her boss’s boss’s boss, Prince Marcello, Valleria’s Minister of Security and Defense, was exacting when it came to training his agents. He’d had plans for her from the start, plans she’d agreed to, certain missions that she still hadn’t completed.
At the thought of one prince, another came into view and rushed to her.
He kneeled beside her, his hands immediately shifting over her body to check for injuries; even the lightest touch from him set her skin on edge in the most delicious, delightful way. “How bad are you hurt? You’re bleeding.”
She frowned and looked over her now unencumbered arms and legs. “I’m fine.”
His face took on that frustrated look she’d seen multiple times over their acquaintance. She found it incredibly adorable, though she’d never tell him that.
He oh-so-gently cupped her face and did a doctor’s look into her eyes while he held up a hand. “Your head’s got quite a gash in it. Follow my finger.”
She did as he asked, her eyes easily following. She gently patted her coiffure and, when she pulled away, her hand had an unmistakable coating of dark red.
Damn it.
While she wiped the blood off on the stage drape, he pulled out a handkerchief and gently brushed the wound. Though his suit was now dusty and dirty, the cloth he was using looked clean. However soft his touch, she still winced at the pain though she tried to hide it.
He shifted some of her hair. “I need to get this cleaned. We need to move you somewhere with better light. Can’t see for shit down here.”
