I exit the room and find Jakob at the window, peering down at something from the edge of the frame. He snaps his fingers and points, indicating that I should join him at the other side of the window.
When I do, and look down, what I see makes my heart sink into my boots: not one, but two large black SUVs, disgorging men in jeans, tees, and body armor who carry machine guns like this is Iraq circa 2004 instead of Manhattan in 2026.
"What the fuck did youdo?” I snap at Jakob. "Kill a warlord's daughter?"
"Worse. His dog." When his comment only gets him a puzzled look, he sighs. "Clearly you haven’t seenJohn Wick." He eyes me. "I don't suppose you own a firearm? Or some other weapon?"
"Unless you count my Wüsthof knives as weapons, no."
He shakes his head. "Yeah, no." Another speculative glance. "Why on earth would you have a professional chef's knife set?"
I arch an eyebrow. "For cooking with." When he merely stares at me without expression, I sigh in irritation. "I enjoy cooking, alright? It relaxes me. It's my hobby."
"You don't seem like the hobby type, to be perfectly honest with you," he says. "You seem like the type who works evenings, weekends, and holidays and orders in because you don’t have time for anything else.”
"Judgmental much?"
"Am I wrong?"
I don't answer, because he's not. I huff. "I don't get to as often as I'd like, but Idolove to cook. And I do it well, I'll have you know." I gesture at the cluster of killers below, who are, literally, huddled together receiving instructions. I mean, there are eight of them and two of us, and we're unarmed. How much strategery could possibly be involved? "What's your plan for getting me past them?"
"Gettinguspast them, you mean?" he asks.
"No, I meanme. You dragged me into this mess; it's your responsibility to drag me all the way back out of it unharmed. So I do meanme. I can't claim to care overly much what happens to you, Jakob. You're the one they want. I'm just collateral damage to them."
He eyes me again. "I see."
"I'm a bottom-line kind of girl, Jakob. I'm practical. Efficient. I am generally unconcerned with silly things like sentiment. And the bottom line here is that you're now responsible for me."
He nods as if this makes perfect sense. "I see." A pause. "Any useful skills? Knife throwing? Kung fu? Crazy, long-lost uncle with an underground bug-out bunker?"
"I have a purple belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu," I tell him.
He tips his head to one side. "That's not nothing, and you very well may need it before this is all over."
“That's reassuring." I watch as the men below do their macho, about-to-kill-an-innocent-unarmed-woman huddle of manly manfulness. "Should we consider escaping now, Jakob?"
"Yes. We should." He notices my attire, now. "There we go. Nice jacket. Excellent choice.” His eyes go to my boots. "And very nice boots. Didn't take you for the type to hike the Appalachian Trail."
I snort. "I'm not. My brother is an imbecile. He figured that because I like shoes, I'd likeanyshoes as long as they're expensive. So he bought the most expensive pair of hiking boots he could find in my size."
He blinks. "That's shockingly bizarre." A shrug. "But you'll be grateful for them before the day is out."
"Do they know we're here?" I ask, following Jakob away from the window and out into the hallway.
"Unlikely. Follow me and stay close."
The injunction to stay close feels unnecessary. The presence of murderous cretins who want me dead merely for existing near them is enough to turn me into a barnacle attached to his very fine backside.
We pause in the hallway as Jakob seems to debate between the stairs and the elevator.
"Why would we take the elevator?" I ask. "As much as I don't relish the idea of a dozen flights of stairs."
"Because they'd expect us to take the stairs." He eyes me. "But I'm only guessing. I'm used to staying off-grid, but being hunted like this is new for me, too."
"So, elevator?"
He nods. "Worth a shot."
