Page 158 of Knox

Aurelio glares at me, looking stunned. “Step away and leave me and my boyfriend alone so we can make up, bodyguard.”

“He is not your boyfriend,” I hiss, without moving my hands away from Cillian.

“For now,” Aurelio whines in a pitchy voice and steps forward, trying to grab Cillian’s arm. “That’s why we need to talk, Cil. Come here, muffin—”

Without letting go of Cillian’s waist, I reach out, grab Aurelio’s wrist, and twist his arm behind his back, bending it up toward his shoulder blade until the joint tightens to its limit.

Aurelio gasps and falls to his knees.

“My apologies, dear guest.” I smile. “Mr. Harrington-Hale is needed in the treasury room.”

I turn around, grab Cil by the hand, and drag him away from the garden before I lose my mind and tear Aurelio apart.

I double-tap my earpiece. “Alpha One to team. I have the package. Moving toward sector three.”

“Noted,” Logan responds.

We walk in front of Damián, who looks at us, both stunned and amused.

“Not a fucking word,” I warn him and pull Cillian into the main house.

Wow…

It’s funny how fast emotions can change.

Today I went from feeling happy to feeling confused, sad, desperate, and now I’m angry.

I am angry at Cillian for not pushing him away, but I am even angrier at myself for giving Cil no reason to push him away.

“Where the hell are you taking me?!”

“Shut up,” I hiss, and Cillian gasps.

“Did you just tell your client to shut up?”

“No, I told my cargo to shut up.”

We turn the corner, and I spot Björn, Logan, and Law walking toward us from the opposite end.

Björn looks at me, then down at my hand holding Cillian’s, and winks.

“Oh, my Gods!” he yells, pointing in the opposite direction from where we are coming. “Is that Bono?!”

Logan, Law, and the other three staff members turn and look in the direction Björn is pointing.

Good job, Viking!

I pull Cillian against the left wall, moving in a straight line. We turn a corner, and I shift us to the other side until we reach a vase and turn left.

“What are you doing?” Cillian asks, trying to match my pace.

“We’re walking the dark line,” I say, not slowing down.

“The what?”

“The dark line. On every mission, we set up a path through the venue that’s made of blind spots. On this path, no one can see us or hear us.”

“Even if someone taps into the security feed?”