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I did as he said, curling my bruised toes against the industrial carpet.
“I warned you not to get involved with him.” I winced from the tone as the contact paced the floor. “But did you listen? No…so now it’s too late.”
“My dad…”
He jerked that cold glare toward me as his phonebeeped.A glance at the screen and he muttered apprehensively, “They’re here.”
They’re here?
They’re here?
I pushed up from the seat. “Who’shere?”
But he didn’t answer, just looked at me with a calculating glare and motioned toward the doorway.
“I said…who’s here,”I forced the words through clenched teeth, refusing to move.
But Mr. FBI just turned, apparently sick of my questions, grabbed my arm, and shoved me forward. I stumbled, throwing out my hands to keep from hitting the door.
This wasn’t right…
None of it. I twisted the handle and yanked. As I stepped through the doorway, I caught movement from behind me. I turned my head just enough to catch him drawing his gun. “You’re not FBI, are you?”
He didn’t answer, just gave me a shove, and all I could think about was the pain when Fin had spoken about Baldeon that night.It was bad, Anna. It was so fucking bad.
We'd stayed inside after that. We'd had bodyguards…and each other. But I didn’t have any of that now, did I? And as I walked, a sudden surge of regret found me. A gnawing terror filled me, weighing down my feet as I moved slowly ahead.
Tears slipped from my eyes as I walked in the dark, heading down a long hallway toward the far end of the hangar. “Tell me one thing. Were you even going to try to get us out of this alive?”
“Alive?” the contact muttered. “See, I only needed one of you…and lucky for you, your father was never the target. You were.”
I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them, striding toward the red exit light over the hangar door.
“Wait!”the contact barked behind me. I slowed my steps as he rushed forward, driving my shoulder hard against the wall as he pushed through. “Don’t even think about running.”
The wind howled through the gaps in the door as he grabbed the handle, turned, and opened it.
“Surprise,” Pavlov snarled, and lashed out, driving his fist into the contact’s face.
“Anna?” Dad’s voice came from behind him. I lifted my head as Pavlov lunged, driving Mr. FBI backwards and slamming him into the wall.
“Anna!”Dad roared.
Everything happened in a blur. One minute I was standing there, looking at my dad in handcuffs…and the next, I was on the floor.
Fists flew in an onslaught as Pavlov and the contact traded blow after sickening blow, slamming each other into the wall.
“Dad!” I screamed as my father stumbled through the door and lunged toward me. His eyes were wide, tearing from the fight…to me.
Until a deafeningboomtore through the air.
I jerked my gaze from Dad as Pavlov stumbled backwards, a dark stain spreading across his stomach. He turned his head toward me and whispered,“Run.”
“You do,” the contact sucked in hard gasps and leveled his gun at my father’s head, “and your father is dead.”
46
Finley
