Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
I laughed. He could be funny.
What the…?
No.
An annoying sting in my arm pulled me from my dream about…whatever it’d been. At the office? Tariq and Toby had been there. The images of them faded as I broke through the cobwebs of sleep.
“Forgive me, Crew.”
What? I blinked drowsily, my vision unsteady and blurry, until it wasn’t. I frowned and rubbed at my arm, right in the crease where it bent, and I squinted up at Adrien.
“I think somethin’ bit me,” I muttered groggily. Why was he dressed? “Why are you dressed?”
He’d found Ryan’s clothes. Black utility pants and a long-sleeved tee in the same color. Boots too.
I sat up on the mattress as Adrien got to his feet.
He was just staring down at me, his expression guarded.
Was something wrong?
I yawned and rubbed at the spot again, and I glanced down to see a tiny drop of blood welling up. What the fuck had bit… Or did—fuck. He wasn’t saying anything. He just stood there. Something wasn’t right. I flicked my gaze to his hands, and I sucked in a breath. A syringe. My brain felt like it exploded, and it catapulted me into action. I jumped to my feet, a bit disoriented, and looked around me for my pants.
“I’ve hidden every weapon, the car key, and your phone,” he said.
“I’m gonna fucking murder you,” I told him. I didn’t feel anything yet—besides the panic-tinted urge to get shit done. He’d fucking betrayed me, and I could rage about that later. I could hurt about that later. Right now, I had to think about my next step.
Oh God, oh fuck, oh God.
Think, think, think.
I had approximately thirty minutes before I’d lose my struggle and fall asleep. After that, I’d be mostly unconscious for up to four or five hours. I’d feel mentally weighed down and exhausted.
“I didn’t want to do this, Crew,” he said patiently, “but you know too much, and I can’t have your team put their mission before mine. I can’t risk that.”
“You should’ve restrained me,” was all I said as I put on my pants.
He turned grim. “I don’t need to be stronger than you. I only need to outlast you—and I think I can hold my own.”
He’d fucking like that, wouldn’t he? No, I wasn’t gonna kick his ass. For some reason, my mind became crystal clear, and I immediately wondered if he’d planned it this way so that I would fill these thirty minutes with punches and kicks. Fucking trust, I could break his neck. I didn’t need a damn weapon to take him down. But then what? If he died, all the information he sat on would be gone too.
There had to be a better way to use up my time. He’d said he’d hidden my phone, as in singular. He hadn’t found the other one, then?
Soon as I’d shoved my feet into my boots, I could tell he was braced for impact, but I darted out of the living room and up the stairs instead. Adrenaline slithered through me, as if it wasn’t ready to give me a proper boost yet. My pulse hadn’t skyrocketed either.
“You won’t find any weapons up there!” he yelled.
I wasn’t interested in finding a weapon, fuckface.
The upstairs was wide open, with only load-bearing walls in place. I ran over to the corner Ryan had prepared for himself, and I hurriedly searched through one of his bags. There. In a concealed compartment, I found both Ryan’s private cell and my own. I pocketed mine and stalked back to the stairs, where I found Mercier waiting at the bottom.
“I will find you if you run away,” he stated.
I took a couple measured steps down. “What’s your plan here? You know I can kill you in five seconds flat—you also know I won’t do that because you have intel I need.”
He inclined his head. “I’m taking you with me.”
To where?
He wouldn’t tell me.
“Will I wake up before we get to wherever we’re going?” I asked.
He opened his mouth to respond, only to shut it and narrow his eyes at me. “You won’t be able to pass on any messages, if that’s what you’re trying to fish for. And your team won’t find you out at sea.”
Out at sea.
Why would—
Holy fuck.
I swallowed hard as it dawned on me. I mean, it had to mean something. He was gonna meet up with Carillo. Carillo wasn’t fucking arriving into a major port. He was meeting up with Mercier, whose job was to take Carillo someplace. They were gonna avoid detection and surveillance, possibly by choosing a tiny port somewhere, far away from cruise lines, cargo ships, and commuter ferries.
“Get out of my way,” I said, descending again.
Of course, he didn’t move because his only intent was to slow me down.
So be it.
A flicker of a memory from last night appeared before my eyes, his hands on me, how we’d grabbed at each other, how hungrily we’d made out, and I let it all fuel my dormant anger. I kept my expression composed, and when I was a few steps away from the bottom, I kicked him swiftly right where he’d been shot, sending him flying backward with a shouted curse. Then I jumped after and rammed him into the nearest wall, before I slammed my forehead up his nose and turned it into a bloody fountain.