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“Run!” yelled the stubbled guy and we sprinted for the doors. A guard charged in front of us, drawing his gun, but I shouldered him out of the way and we burst out into the open air. A shabby-looking car was parked right outside the doors and we dived in, Hailey and me in the back and the stubbled guy—Agent Calahan, I presumed—behind the wheel. We were thrown back in our seats as he stamped on the gas and then the FBI building was shrinking in the rear view mirror.
“They’ll be looking for my car,” Calahan muttered to us over his shoulder. He didn’t try to hide the anger in his voice. “Hold on. I’ve got to switch it.”
He took the next corner without slowing down, then another and another, until our stomachs were churning and we were deep in a maze of narrow streets. He finally pulled into the open doorway of a garage and screeched to a stop. “Wait here,” he snapped, and got out.
Hailey and I looked around. To our left, two guys were stripping a BMW of all its valuable parts. To our right, a man was grinding the identification numbers off a Mercedes while another guy fitted fake license plates. A chop shop. And Calahan seemed to know the men and know how to deal with them. First it was fist-bumps and hugs, then he pulled out his wallet and finally, when they still seemed reluctant to help, he shrugged and spread his arms wide. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I could guess. Wouldn’t it be awful if the FBI got a tip-off about this place….
I started to warm to the man.
In less than five minutes, we were driving out in a fresh car: a piece of junk compared to what I was used to, but no one was looking for it and that made it more valuable than any limo. “You planned that well,” I allowed.
Calahan didn’t turn around, but he glanced at me in the rear view mirror. “Not my first time breaking the rules.”
When a few miles had gone by without any sign of pursuit, he pulled over and sat back with a sigh. “There. We’re clear.” He twisted around in his seat and scowled at me. “Now you better hope you can fix this thing—”—he glanced at Hailey—”for her sake.”
I nodded. I understood what they’d both done for me. They were fugitives, now. And if the assassination happened, they’d be going to jail. We had to stop it, and clear my name.
But there was something I had to do first. Something I couldn’t wait any longer for.
I grabbed Hailey by the waist and dragged her across the seat and into my lap. I pushed her hair back from her face, my fingers tangling in the soft strands, and kissed her.
61
Hailey
THE AIRPORT. The arrest. The interrogation. The rescue. This was the first chance we’d had and I hadn’t realized how much I needed him until I felt his hands on me. As he pulled me onto his lap, I was already stretching up to kiss him, my mouth searching, my hands clutching at his shoulders. Then I felt the hard press of his lips, spreading, demanding, and the pleasure crashed through me, rolling down my body in an electric ripple.
I gasped, frantic and panting. His hands slid over my back and ass and mine traced the muscles of his arms, feeling their warm strength through his suit. We both had to reassure ourselves that this was real, that we were back together.
I didn’t know what would happen next. But I knew I wouldn’t let anything separate us again.
When we finally released each other, I was weak and fluttery. I just wanted to cuddle up to his chest, my head on his pec, and nestle there for a week. Nothing in the world ever felt so good.
“So what now?” Calahan’s voice broke the silence.
Shit. My head jerked up and I looked towards the front seat.
He wasn’t glaring at us angrily. He was staring straight ahead, out of the windshield. That was almost worse, somehow: he couldn’t bear to look. The guilt welled up inside me and I untangled myself from Konstantin. I’d always known there was something, something more than friends, but he’d always crushed it, as soon as it started. Oh, Calahan….
“We need to find out who set me up,” said Konstantin. “We have less than an hour.”
Calahan finally turned around in his seat... and nodded. The tension was still thick between the two of them, but we had to put it aside and focus or we were all going to jail.
“If you didn’t send those emails, hiring the assassin and arranging everything... who did?”
“Maybe you were hacked,” said Calahan.
I shook my head. “It had to have been someone inside the mansion. They told Grigory to get hold of the rifle and deliver it.”
