He slipped toward one of the boarded-up windows near the front of the cottage. He peeked through the slat of boards and saw the black Range Rover slide to a fast stop. The driver’s side door swung open, and relief filled Ryan as he saw the blond hair of his MI6 counterpart, Harry Wilson. Harry wore a pair of sunglasses to shield his gaze, and as the MI6 agent bounded forward, his dark coat flapped open a bit. No noticeable weapon on him.
Ryan opened the front door before Harry could reach it.
“We’ve got a five-minute lead on them,” Harry snapped out.
Ryan did not question how Harry knew this fact.
“Let’s go,” Harry urged.
Right, so…Ryan hadn’t exactly had time to explain in his text that he had a companion with him. Companion, witness, criminal—all of the above in one tempting package. “I’m not alone.”
“What?” Harry’s brows shot up over his sunglasses.
“She’s coming, too. Hold on.” Ryan spun and bounded back to the closet.
“Mate, we have got to go!”
“Understood.” He yanked open the closet door.
Harry’s steps rushed behind him.
Only, the closet was empty. There was no gorgeous woman in a soggy and damaged red gown waiting inside.
“What is happening here?” Harry demanded. “Are you, uh, having some sort of episode?”
Ryan whirled back toward him. “I barely left her for a minute!”
“Left who?” Harry yanked off his glasses. His golden stare raked Ryan. “Did you hit your head? Your eye looks like hell, by the way. That’s a serious shiner.”
He shoved Harry out of his way. Ryan had just caught sight of the small, muddy footprints on the floor. They snaked to the left, around a crumbling wall that had half of a fireplace still clinging to it.
“Time to leave! We’ve got to go!” Harry’s voice cracked around the edges.
“Not without her!” Ryan kept following those muddy prints and realized he was in the remains of a kitchen. His head whipped up as he found his target. Simone. A Simone frantically struggling to open what appeared to be the cottage’s back door. “Sweetheart.”
She paused mid-struggle. “Was it the good guys outside?” A peek over her shoulder. “Or the bad?”
He closed in.
She let go of the doorknob and turned to face him. “I didn’t like the closet, so I thought I’d hide in here.”
Cute. “You were running away from me.”
“More like…I was running away from MI6 and the CIA.”
Harry rushed into the old kitchen. “Who are you talking—wow. Who is she?”
Simone flashed him a bright, sunny smile. “Hi.”
Not happening. She was not going to charm the MI6 agent. Sighing, Ryan leaned forward and tossed Simone over his shoulder. Immediately, a ton of muddy skirt ruffles hit him in the face. He shoved them out of the way, but as he shoved them, Ryan felt a distinct…clink.
Simone had been struggling in his arms, but at that clink—a sound they both had to hear—she stilled. Momentarily. Only to rally instantly and renew her struggles with even more force.
He tightened his grip on her. “Don’t test me right now.”
“Why not?” Her perky retort. “Will there be a better time for me to test you later?”
Harry cleared his throat. Loudly. “In case you missed it before…”
