She still straddled him. Her dress had hiked up. Her knees shoved into the floor of the elevator, positioned on either side of Nash’s body. Delaney was sure the skin had been ripped off her knees because they ached and throbbed. Her hands pressed to his chest. “We didn’t fall far.”
“Lucky for us, there wasn’t far to fall.” He lifted her up. Off him. But his hands remained around her waist.
One shoe had fallen off. She didn’t bother searching for it in the dark. She just kicked off the other shoe.
“You’re okay?” Nash’s gruff voice. “You’re sure?”
Her body wouldn’t stop trembling. “Well, other than the fact that you knew my grandfather killed my dad, that you hid that important news from me, and, oh, yes, you knew my grandfather was Typhon?—”
“Typhon is like a freaking title. The mantle went to someone else when Carmello died. The CIA suspected it had gone to Kurt, we just couldn’t conclusively prove it, so that wasn’t a lie. What I told you about Kurt wasn’t a lie?—”
“Did you ever even love me?” A desperate cry that broke from her as she tore through his words.
Except she should not have let the cry out. Wrong time. Their stupid elevator had just plummeted. She was probably lucky to be alive. This was not the time for her to be raging at him and asking if he’d ever loved her. Did she even truly want to know the answer? “Forget it. Let’s just find a way out of here.” Since it was so dark, the doors had to be shut, but maybe they could pry them open and get out.
His hold on her waist tightened. “I have never loved anyone the way I love you. Doesn’t matter if it was eight years or eight days or eight minutes ago. I love you the same now as I did before. I will love you until I die.”
The elevator groaned. A hard, heavy sound. Fear raced through her.
“The doors are opening,” Nash rasped as a sliver of light cut through the darkness. “I dropped the damn gun.” He let her go. He bent down.
She started searching frantically in the dark.
The doors cracked open more, sending a bigger stream of light inside the darkness.
“Get me a picture!” Jezebel yelled. She grabbed for her phone. “I’m calling in backup, now?—”
“No, you’re not.” A gun muzzle pressed to the side of her head.
Jezebel knew it was a gun because she’d had a gun pressed to her head three other times in her life. Three other, very unfortunate times. You never forget the feel of a gun muzzle pressing into your skin. Especially when some bastard is threatening to blow your brains out.
“You’re not calling in backup.” Dom stood beside her. Several inches taller than her and with his gun at her head. “You’re not calling anyone. Nash and Delaney are vanishing.”
Her gaze cut toward him. “Dom, you don’t do well with field work.” A gentle reminder. She could practically smell his fear. Plus, the gun was trembling against her.
“I’m doing just fine.” His voice cracked on fine. “Will be doing even better when I get my payday.”
The first time that a gun had been pressed to her head, she’d pulled a hidden knife on her attacker. She’d driven that knife into his throat before he’d had the chance to pull the trigger.
“They are going to disappear from this building.” More cracking in his voice. This time on disappear. And more trembling of the gun. “Nash will never be seen again.”
The second time a gun had been pressed to her head, Nash Quinn had come rushing in to take out her attacker. Interestingly enough, that had been Nash’s first kill. He’d still been a green agent at the time. He’d tried to save the creep that he’d been forced to shoot.
“I’m assuming Nash will die quickly?” Jezebel’s voice remained calm.
“I don’t care if he dies f-fast or if he dies slow. I get the same amount of money either way!”
The third time a gun had been pressed to her head, a lover had been the one holding the weapon. A man she’d never fully trusted. She’d known all of his weak spots, so she’d been able to take him down. He was still rotting in a prison cell. Every few months, he would request to see her. Every few months, she’d refuse that request.
“Nash dies.” Jezebel kept her body relaxed. Unthreatening. “And what of the woman? What’s gonna happen to Delaney?”
“I guess she’ll be a widow.”
A soon-to-be dead widow. That gun still pressed against her. Still trembled. “You’re the leak at the CIA.” I knew there was one. I just had to get the mole to show himself. “You told Kurt Wellington that Nash and Delaney would be at the Love Heart Chapel, didn’t you?”
“Oh, I told him plenty more than that.” Smug. “His team has pics of every agent here. Your little trap is going to explode in your face. I know all the players. Kurt knows all the players. You are screwed.”
The hotel room door opened behind him. A door that should not have opened because only Jezebel and Dom had keys. But the door swung open, and, as Jezebel cut her eyes in that direction and Dom partially turned toward the door, Ryan Quinn strolled inside.
