Page 66 of Unlocked

Tatum spun, already moving, but he was faster than she expected. He lunged, caught her arm, and yanked her back. She went with the momentum, used it to swing around, and drive her knee up into his groin.

He dropped like a stone.

"Jesus Christ, help me!" he gasped toward the van.

The driver's door opened. Another man jumped out. Bigger. Broader. Wearing a ski mask. Tatum's vision swam. Her head was pounding, nausea rolling through her stomach. She couldn't take them both. Not like this. She had to run.

The second man moved toward her, cutting off her escape back into the store. She feinted left, then broke right, sprinting for the mouth of the alley. He was fast. His footsteps pounded louder behind her, closing the distance.

Faster. Move faster.

Her lungs burned. Her head screamed in protest with every jarring step. She burst out of the alley onto the sidewalk and nearly collided with a group of teenagers.

"Hey, watch it!" one of them shouted.

She didn't stop. Didn't look back. Just kept running. Two blocks. Three. Her vision tunneled. She couldn't tell if he was still behind her or if she'd lost him. She ducked into a coffee shop, chest heaving, and looked back through the window. Nothing. No one. She waited. Five minutes. Ten. Her hands were shaking. Her head felt like someone was driving nails into her skull.

But she was alive.

She pulled out her phone and opened a rideshare app. Her fingers fumbled on the screen. It took three tries to enter the destination.

The Society.

She needed Archer.

Tatum stumbled into the lobby of the Society, and the concierge's eyes went wide.

"Ms. Wellington, are you⁠—"

"I'm fine," she managed, though she was pretty sure she looked anything but. She made it to the elevator, hit the button for her floor, and leaned against the wall as it rose.

Her reflection stared back at her from the polished brass. Her hair was a mess. Her tank top was torn at the shoulder. There was a smudge of dirt or possibly blood on her cheek. And her eyes. God, her eyes looked wild. Scared.

The elevator dinged. She stepped out and walked down the hall on autopilot. She needed to get inside. Lock the door. Figure out what the hell had just happened. They'd tried to take her. Put her in a van. And if she hadn't fought back— She didn't want to think about what would have happened next.

She fumbled with her key, finally got the door open, and stepped inside. Safe. She was safe. She locked the door behind her, engaged the deadbolt, and slid the chain into place. Then she walked to the couch and sat down heavily.

Her headache was getting worse. Throbbing now, a dull roar that made it hard to think. She should ice it. Should check for a concussion. Her phone buzzed.

She pulled it out, expecting Archer. Or maybe security. Instead, the screen showed an unknown number. And a text message that made her blood run cold.

Stop what you’re doing. This is your last warning.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Archer swore as he looked at the amount of paperwork still on his desk. It was going to take him the rest of the day, and he had a few meetings scheduled on top of it. There was a problem in the Kuala Lumpur Society space that needed his attention again. And more real estate deals.

At least Tatum was safe. It was the one thing that gave him any comfort at all right now, which was itself a problem he was choosing not to examine too closely. He had Flynn following her. She'd gone to work that morning, but Flynn couldn't go inside without attracting too much attention, and too much attention was the last thing they needed. Tatum should be safe enough at the office. He also knew she would be furious if she spotted Flynn, and explaining it to her parents would only give Bunny and Stuart more ammunition. From everything he'd seen, they needed no help on that front.

He'd checked on her last night after they got back from the club. She'd been shaken but was trying very hard to hide it. He'd almost picked up where they'd left off.

Stupid.

He needed to be more careful. Needed to stop letting thoughts of Tatum bleed into every quiet moment and start doing his job.

I can't lose you.

Those words had just slipped out. He didn't let things slip. Ever. He'd known Tatum for a while, admired her longer than he'd admitted even to himself, but the feelings those words carried were something different. Something he had no business having in this job. In any version of this life.