He stiffens, mouth parting slightly in surprise before he can catch himself. Slowly, his lips pull into a devilish smile and he takes the stack back, tucking it into his inner jacket pocket.“Well, well, well. It seems the Angel of Mercy is even more impressive than her reputation makes her out to be.”
My stomach swoops. “So I was right?”
As the other members of our table find their seats, my brother beside me, he silently raises a finger in front of his lips and winks. It’s then I realize… I never asked his name. Seeing the placecard in front of me says ‘Mr. Sterling’s Guest, I glance for his, but he’s already tucking the folded piece of cardstock into his breast pocket. I don’t get a chance to interrogate him for either his nameorthe supposed signal before the auctioneer starts rattling off items. As he opens bidding for the first item on the docket, the mysterious man beside me slides his chair closer and subtly presses something into my palm. I automatically wrap my hand around a rectangular piece of plastic.
Leaning close, he whispers. “Pin’s 1769. There’s an ATM in the lobby; it’ll let you pull out five thousand at a time. Then you’ll know for sure that the bills are legit. So, what do you say?”
What else can I say? Five thousand dollars just to make a fool of myself in front of people I’m never going to see again?
“If you try to report me for fraud or stealing your card, I’ll have you know, I have very little to lose and way too much pent up aggression.”
He grins. “Noted. So, do we have a deal?”
“Yes,” I agree softly, feeling the heavy weight of the word as I cave. “What do I have to do?”
Leaning closer, he whispers, “In thirty seconds, get up and head to the lobby. Pull the money out of the machine, then come back to join me. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Counting down the seconds, I take a deep breath and slide my chair back.
“Kia?” Kills asks, shooting me a concerned look.
Pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, I murmur, “Be right back.”
Before he can insist on coming with me, I slip out of the massive ballroom being used as an auction hall back into the foyer of the mansion. I wind up having to ask one of the security guards standing around for directions, and he points me towards where another guard stands beside a discreet alcove with the sleekest ATM I’ve ever seen. Palms sweating a bit, I remind myself that I’m not doing anything wrong. I have express permission from… whatshisname, and his pin number. It’s fine, everything’s fine.
I’m going to jail.
Checking the card now that I’m in the light, I nearly drop it.
Sebastian Thorne.
Stryker’s brother. The snake trying to steal the company out from under my mate.
“Two can play that game,” I mumble, popping the card in the machine with renewed determination. After pulling out the five K for my services and tucking it into my purse, I repeat the process like rapid fire, pulling out the five dollar minimum each transaction until it gives an‘Error, contact your financial institution,’ message on the screen. I’ll give his brother every single one of those five dollar bills back alongside his card and make up some excuse about the machine glitching. But I won’t say a word about the bank putting a fraud alert freeze on his account.
He can find that out the fun way when he tries to buy whatever he came here for.
“Everybody on the ground!” a harsh voice barks a second before he fires off two shots. Like dominos, both security guards thud to the ground, the one nearest me with a hole in his chest.
My hands fly to my mouth to cover my startled yelp before dropping to a crouch. I’m mostly hidden thanks to the recessed alcove, but if I can stretch my fingers just a little further…
A set of black boots stomp into my line of sight, and I crane my head up, heart in my throat. Gun in hand, I follow the barrel up his tattooed fingers. They trail all the way up his arm, under the black t-shirt, and end at his neck, where a set of crossed swords behind a red sun shine like a proud beacon.
“Damn, no wonder the boss wants ‘ya. Pretty little thing like you will go for a fortune,” he says, gesturing with his gun for me to get to my feet.
My gaze darts to the fallen guard, and I bite my cheek, weighing my options. “Your boss wantsmespecifically?” At his narrowed eyes, I rush, “How about you and I make a deal? Give me two minutes to save this guard from bleeding out, and I won’t try to run.”
He scoffs. “You wouldn’t make it two feet anyway.”
“Maybe not, but are you willing to risk how much damage I can do to myself if I make it to that window before you catch me? Damaged goods don’t sell for as high a price, and I’m clumsy enough I might even break my neck.” Frowning as he considers I might be faster than I look, I pounce on his hesitation to add, “Besides, think about the brownie points you’ll score with the boss ifyou’rethe one to bring me in.”
Glancing over his shoulder, he curses, but lowers his gun slightly. “Oneminute, and not a second more. I don’t give a shit if he dies, so make it count.”
Hearing the ring of truth in his words, I slap a hand on the guard and give it everything I’ve got. It’s the clumsiest, most painful healing job I’ve ever done, but by the time an arm bands around my waist to throw me over his shoulder, I’m confident that he has a solid chance of surviving if someone gets him to a hospital in the next hour.
“Time’s up,” he grunts, striding for the main entrance, but he doesn’t make it ten steps before he convulses like he’s been electrocuted, legs giving out and crumpling to the ground.
Frantically throwing my hands out as the floor rushes up to greet me, I save myself from cracking my face on the marble, but it still hurts like a bitch when the guy falls sideways and crushes my legs beneath him. The violent spasming only increases, and I’m squirming to get enough leverage to free myself when a familiar set of combat boots appear. With one brutal kick, Stryker shoves him off of me and sends him skidding across the polished floor.
