Her brother.
That's what this is about. She didn’t risk her life for power or to feed her father's ambitions.
She’s here to save a Blake.
Then something weird happens. Some strange, foreign emotion like empathy bubbles up in my chest. It’s a feeling I’ve no business feeling for a stranger I'm supposed to be stopping.
I open my mouth to speak and she fucking headbutts me.
Stars flood my vision. White-hot pain explodes across the bridge of my nose. My grip loosens for one second - one fucking second - and she manages to roll out from under me. Before I can get to my feet, she’s in the truck.
The engine roars and tires scream against the pavement outside.
I raise the Uzi, a breath away from pulling the trigger. From this angle I could take the shot and blow out a tire, fuck up the engine and destroy herback windshield.
But I don't take it.
Because I don't want her dead.
I want to know what kind of woman breaks into the most secure criminal database on the planet, fights like a soldier, and tells the enemy her brother's life is on the line like she's daring me to use it against her.
So I fire shots in the direction of the truck, purposely hitting a tree she’s speeding past, just to let her know I could hit her if I wanted to. The taillights disappear in the inky blackness.
My shoulders sag, blood from the cuts on my face trickling down the side of my jaw, hard as a goddamn rock, and more alive than I've felt in years.
I press my fingers to the scratches. They sting like hell. They're going to scar.
Good.
I hunker low and get myself the hell out of there. Once I’m back at the rental car, I dig out my phone and dial my brother’s number.
“Bronx, for fuck’s sake.” Kingston's voice could freeze lava. “What the hell did you just do?”
“We have a problem.”
I light a cigarette, inhale slowly, and watch the smoke dissipate into the cold night air.
“Tierney Blake got away. She's got files on us. I don't know how much, but it’s probably enough to be a problem. And K...” I take another drag, thinking about those fiery blue eyes and a voice that cracked when she mentioned her brother. “She's not freelance. Breaking into the vault was personal. The Tribunal has something on them. But whatever she thinks she stole? She's in over her head.”
He’s quiet for a minute. “How do you want to handle it?”
I take one last drag, flick the cigarette onto the ground, and make a promise to the woman who just clawed my face open and stole my control.
“I’ve got a plan,” I say.
I'll see you again, Tierney Blake.
And next time, sweetheart, you won't get away.
3
TIERNEY
“What the fuck?” I hiss, thumping the steering wheel.
My foot stays steady on the gas, not needing to draw attention to myself in a foreign country.
I glance in the rearview mirror and clock the red bruise blooming on my forehead, the result of head-butting Bronx Viacava.
