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“And you’re still an insufferable asshole,” she replies.
I guess neither of us has changed.
“Since when do you work for Josiah Locklear?” she asks with contempt.
“Since it’s none of your fucking business. How do you even know him?” I reply. Lifting her from the floor, I pin her to the wall with the knife still jammed against her throat. There’s a more important question that needs answering right now. “How do I stop the bomb from exploding?”
An evil grin spreads on her lips. “Of course, you’d like to know that …” She throws a single glance toward her bags. “Like I’d tell you.”
I grunt and then drag her toward the bed, throwing her down. “What’s your plan? Why the fuck are you doing this? Do you have a death wish?”
“Maybe,” she replies. “Or maybe I just wanna watch this place burn to the ground.”
“And let it take you down with it?” I tsk. “I know you better than that. You wouldn’t waste away your life like that.”
“I have good reasons,” she says.
“Of course, you do,” I snap.
When she tries to move, I point the knife toward her. “Don’t even try.”
“You think I’m afraid of you?” She raises a brow. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Try me,” I retort.
God, I hate her. I fucking hate her.
And she damn well knows it.
I can see it in her eyes. That same disdain. The unhappiness. The stone-cold heart. It’s as if I’m staring at my own reflection in the mirror.
But there’s still that glimmer of hope in her eyes that resonates within my core.
Suddenly, my phone rings, and I bring it to my ear. “Not now.”
As I’m about to tuck it away again, Mateo yells into my ear, “Some girl pulled the fire alarm. Locklear’s been notified. His personal guards are checking the hotel.”
“For real?” I ask.
“Yup.”
Fuck.
“Where are you?” he asks. “Did you follow that woman I saw on the tape? I had to rewind it to see what was going on.”
Of course, he did.
“Did you tell Locklear where she was?” I ask.
“Obviously,” he replies.
Well, fuck me.
I immediately end the conversation and shove my phone back into my pocket. Looking up, I find she’s already lunged away from the bed, reaching for her gun.
I swiftly kick it out of her hand and pull out my second one, aiming it at her head.
“Don’t,” I spit.
She narrows her eyes at me. I can feel the hatred seeping through, but I don’t let it get to me.
“You made me pull out my favorite toy,” I say.
“Really? Your dick must be quite useless then.” The smile that follows makes me want to punch somebody. But I’m not the kind of man to lower myself to that. At least not when it comes to women.
I pull her up from the floor and drag her back to the bed. “Sit. Down,” I command.
She waits a few seconds before finally submitting … though with a hint of unruly stubbornness. “Well, you only had to ask.”
I can’t take her seriously.
I narrow my eyes at her. What the fuck am I going to do now? She’s trying to blow up the goddamn hotel. And I don’t even know how to stop her.
“I won’t tell you how to defuse it, if that’s what you want,” she says.
I push the gun against her head. “You wanna die?”
She remains unmoved and doesn’t even flinch at the prospect of losing her life.
When did she become so careless?
The clock is ticking, and I’m getting impatient. I don’t intend to die here. It’s not my time yet. So I grab her by the arm and pull her along with me.
“Where the fuck are we going?” she asks.
“Away from that fucking bomb,” I growl back, dragging her through the door. “How much time do we have?”
She smirks. “About twenty seconds.”
Fuck.
I rush through the halls with her in my grasp, still keeping the gun firmly pushed against her side. I need to think fast. There’s gotta be something I can do. Call someone. Anything.
Because if that thing blows …
Right as I shove her into the elevator, the explosives detonate.
I duck for cover and fall right on top of her.
The whole building shakes violently. The lights go out.
Debris tumbles all around us, the walls cracking, parts of the ceiling caving in.
When everything goes silent, I look around.
It’s a total disaster.
Water gushes out everywhere, and smoke fills the air. A fire has even started up ahead. Part of the hallway and two rooms are completely gone. Just torn apart, like someone took a bite out of the walls and floors.
As I straighten, she’s coughing and wheezing from the fallen debris. But we’re still alive, which means her homemade bomb didn’t fuck up the entire building. Yet.
Maybe it’ll collapse underneath us.
No fucking way am I going to stick around to find out.
She’s still staring at her own creation, grinning like a devil at the sight of the destruction she’s caused. “Fuck. Should’ve used more.”
