Page 117 of When He Lies
She’d reached the end of the current tunnel. A peek through the metal grate showed what appeared to be an empty office. Lots of filing cabinets. This was as good of a place as any to exit her tunnel of torture. Simone shoved hard against the metal grate, and it popped forward. It didn’t fall to the floor, just sort of dangled on one side.
A map of the building would have been so incredibly useful. But maybe she’d find a map or something to help her in one of those filing cabinets. Konstantin had been all proud of just finding the building’s location. Right before she’d started her retrieval mission, he’d boasted to her that just discovering the building’s location had cost him one hundred thousand American dollars.
Now she was his tool. She was supposed to get in. Get the prizes he wanted. And get out. All without being shot by any CIA operatives or MI6 agents who might happen to be around. Oh, and for an extra challenge, she had no weapon. She’d begged to be given something to defend herself, but he’d said she would just turn any weapon on him. And, yes, fine, guilty. She totally would. So that left her with the flashlight and the lock picking set.
Konstantin clearly expected her to work miracles.
What an idiot.
She was good, but not that good. No one was that good. So…
She had to think fast. She had to strategize like hell. She had to—oh, look. What fun. A man in a black coat and black pants was pointing a gun at her. He’d just walked into the room, and the door was still wide open behind him as he gaped up at her as she sort of balanced half in and half out of the air vent.
Fantastic.
Simone let the flashlight fall from her mouth. It tumbled out and onto the floor. Floor that was a greater distance away than she’d realized at first glance. “Hi,” Simone said, forcing a smile.
“Get the bloody fuck out of there!”
“I would love to do that,” she assured him. “Love it. Crawling through what amounted to a very long and tight hole was a nightmare for me. Every moment was hell. But sometimes, we have to do things we really do not want to do.” For example, I really do not want to hurt you. I’m pretty sure you’re one of the good guys.
“Put your arms up!”
They were up. Mostly. “Not a lot of room to do that, given my current position. How about I jump out, you catch me because it looks like I’m higher up than I intended, and then I can show you that I’m not armed, okay? Good plan for you?”
“Lady, I will shoot you between the eyes.” A sharp British accent.
“Let me guess. MI6?”
“Out, now.”
Fine. Her hands slapped on the walls near the vent, and Simone heaved herself forward. She was preparing to tumble hard and fast for the floor, but, as she’d anticipated—fine, more like hoped—the MI6 agent surged forward to catch her. Her body slammed into him, and they both crashed to the floor. When they crashed, she made extra sure to clip his nose with her elbow. To drive her fist into his stomach. And to rip the gun from his hand. So once they slammed into the floor, she was on top of him. She had the weapon. “Hi, again.”
He stared at her with absolute shock in his pale blue eyes.
“I get that a lot,” she told him, nodding. “Now, I am seriously going to need some help from you. Cooperation. Everyone keeps going on and on about how that is key. So, tell me, is a lady named Jezebel here?”
He blinked.
“Is that a yes or a no?” Her hand shook around the gun. “Look, I am barely holding my shit together. I need to know—Ryan Quinn isn’t dead, is he?” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I need you to go and get Jezebel to find Ryan. You get up, you run out of here, and you get Jezebel to find Ryan.” Had she just said that twice? Yes, panic had made her do that. Konstantin had told her to alert no one, but the agent had been right there, so he’d been alerted already. “You make sure that he’s not dead because I really, really need Ryan to not be dead and?—”
Footsteps pounded as another agent raced into the room. Her head whipped up. Her eyes locked on the figure in the doorway, and Simone’s jaw dropped.
Ryan filled the doorway.
Ryan…Her Ryan.
“Not dead,” Simone whispered.
The man beneath her locked his hands around her hips. He tossed her off him, and she slammed into the side of a desk. Her head hit the desk’s edge, and she saw stars for a minute and then she felt his hand curl around her own as he fought to rip the gun from Simone’s fingers.
“Stand down!” Ryan shouted. “Now!”
The MI6 agent did not. He drew back his fist to punch Simone.
Ryan didn’t let that fist touch her. He grabbed the agent around the shoulders and ripped him away from Simone. “No! I said stand the fuck down!” Ryan placed himself between Simone and the agent. “You don’t touch her. You don’t hurt her. You try to hit her again, and I will break every part of you.”
That was Ryan. Ryan’s snarling words. His furious, alive form in front of her. Without hesitation, Simone leapt at him. She jumped onto his back, wrapping her arms and legs around him, and hugged him as tightly as she could with her entire body. “I am so happy that you are not dead!”
