“Of course you don’t. You’re really only good for one thing. One small but vital role of this entire production was all we needed you for.” She shakes her head, cruel amusement creasing a smile across her face. “Now that you’ve played the part, we don’t really have any further reason to?—”
“Now, Anya, don’t scare the girl. Save it for when we have an audience,” a deep voice interrupts, thick with an accent.
My eyes cut to the doorway to see the masked man. My heart rate skyrockets, fear prickling my skin.
Nikolai!?
I take a step back, my butt connecting with the countertop of the sink. My veins turn to ice.
I have nowhere to go.
CHAPTER 30
LUKE
My footsteps are goingto wear a path in front of Kate’s desk if she doesn’t get here soon.What could be taking so long? Is she sick?
I need to send a woman down to the restroom to check in on her.
“Screw it. I’ll do it myself.”
I begin stalking down the hall, my steps quickening with each employee I pass who isn’t my assistant.
Referring to her that way in your head isn’t going to change how you feel.
I punch the elevator button harder than necessary. The thought comes to me that I’m extremely concerned for her safety right now, and if I don’t find her in one piece, I will definitely lose my shit.
What is happening to me?
After an eternity that nearly sends me into cardiac arrest, the doors part. A few faceless suits stroll out. I don’t bother with acknowledging their presence, moving into the metal box and pressing the lobby button. A scrawny, small man tentatively joins me, adjusting his thick glasses.
“Um, twenty-two, please.”
I debate telling him I’m in a rush, but Kate is most likely already heading upstairs on another elevator.
The Russians wouldn’t attack a busy office during the day. If they try again, it’ll be somewhere without witnesses.
I hope.
My eyes laser in on the red numbers counting down. My mind is reeling with possibilities.
She got sidetracked, talking to a friend.
She’s sick.
She got stuck, waiting for the elevator.
She’s on the elevator, riding with other people, making multiple stops.
She decided she was terrified and ran, which would mean she doesn’t trust me.
We’re on level twenty-three when my panicked thoughts are interrupted by the screeching halt of the elevator, lights cutting out. The passenger with me lets out a squeal, dropping something.
It’s immediate, the way my body switches into tactical mode. The gun concealed on my hip is in my hand, safety off. An emergency red light is shining from the control panel, illuminating the fearful expression of the rider with me. His eyebrows rise, eyes glued to the gun I’m holding.
“You—er—you?—”
“Do you know what’s happening? Who’s doing this?”
