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Carver grunts, his frustrations getting the better of him. “Where the fuck is she?”
“We must have missed something,” Cruz says, his brows furrowed as I just know that he’s going over the last fifteen minutes, making sure that we checked every last space.
I walk back toward the door and look out into the hallway. There’s no way that she could have gotten away. We checked every room; we swept this place clean and the elevator was here waiting. Hell, King even had the elevator doors opened just in case she thought that hanging out in there was her best option.
But something isn’t right.
I pull my phone out and scan over the picture I’d taken of the floorplan while mentally picturing every last room that we’ve been in. Everything looks right. We’ve checked every last room. “Is there an attic or outdoor space that we missed? A balcony or … I don’t know. Did she get out into the fire escape?”
Cruz shakes his head. “I jammed her access to the fire escape,” he says as I continue glancing over the picture, studying it like it was my only lifeline, “and there was nothing in the contract about an attic or manhole.”
“There’s always the roof,” Grayson suggests.
Carver sighs, shaking his head. “The roof would be fucking stupid, but it’s all we’ve got.”
My fingers press to the screen of my phone and I zoom in on the picture, my gut telling me that there’s something here that we’ve missed, and as I take in the attached office space, the room right beside where we’re standing, my brows begin to furrow. “Check this out,” I murmur, realizing that the floorplans have the office nearly twice as big as what it was. “That office was way too small to reflect what’s on this floorplan.”
King and Cruz snap their gazes up, barging past me and not bothering to look over the picture. “There’s a fucking false wall,” King mutters.
Carver goes with them as Grayson comes up behind me and takes the phone from my hand. We all walk into the private office and Grayson studies the image, trying to figure out which wall needs to be removed, but Carver and King don’t have that same patience.
Carver walks around the room, his fingers brushing over the drywall for some clue as to where the hell she could be hiding, and then all too soon, he takes something off his belt, punches a hole in the drywall, and shoves something inside of it. Then before I can even see what it is, the guys are barreling out of the room, King grunting in shock. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”
Carver grabs my hand and yanks me out of the room as Cruz slams the door shut behind us. We race down the hallway and just as a loud BANG sounds through the apartment, I’m thrown to the floor with Carver coming down on top of me. “WHAT THE FUCK?” I screech, my face pressing into the hard floors.
“Are you good?” Carver rushes out as the explosion echoes through my mind.
“Get off me you fucking dipshit,” I screech. “Tell me that you didn’t just blow up the office without giving us even the slightest bit of warning. FUCK.”
“Are. You. Good?” he demands, getting to his feet and pulling me up behind him as the boys start moving back toward the office.
I brush off his hold and narrow my glare on him. “I’m fine,” I hiss, stepping around him and following the guys back to the office to watch as Cruz slips his hand inside his black shirt and uses it to help open the door, no doubt because the door handle would be boiling hot, assuming Carver’s little stunt didn’t just melt it right off.
The door comes free, falling right off its hinges and the boys don’t hesitate, walking straight into the room. Smoke fills every corner but is quickly escaping through the shattered window, though my attention falls only to the panic room that was hidden behind the false wall, a wall that now ceases to exist.
Carver grins wide, looking at the panic room. “I guess blowing the room wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”
I roll my eyes and let King get to work, attaching explosives to the door of the panic room and leaving Paris with absolutely no escape. Though hopefully King has a little more sense than just throwing a grenade at it and hoping for the best.
“Cover yourself,” King says a moment later, and like clockwork, Carver moves in front of me, crushing my body to the charred wall and covering my face. A moment passes before another loud BANG sounds through the apartment, but at least this one is far more controlled.
The door comes flying off its hinges with far more force than the small explosion should have allowed, and not a moment later, five guards come pouring out of the room, bullets shooting from their guns, the smoke masking their view and sending their shots wide.
