Simon glanced at the door below them and Chelsea followed his line of vision. There were roughly half a dozen steps, but he would have to give up his defensive position to get there. The stairs wound around with a good-sized rectangular space dividing them that would give an assassin a distinct advantage. Simon couldn’t see behind him, but she could. Asshole Number One was two flights above them, but he seemed to be standing in the back, unwilling to take the chance that Simon could get a shot off. Chelsea was just waiting for Asshole Number Two, and possibly Three, to show up.
Not that it had mattered. Simon had caught the dude squarely in the chest twice. He should have been dead from the loss of his lungs, but he just kept on talking because The Collective was nothing if not on the cutting edge of technology.
“My team represents a group of businessmen who have a vested interest in the package that was sent to you. It’s very important that we have that package returned to us. Miss Dennis, if you’ll come with me, we’ll allow Weston to live. If not, we’ll simply kill him and take you anyway.”
Simon’s eyes met hers, narrowing, his voice low. “Don’t you listen to him.”
“Have you thought about what we could do for you?” The man’s voice had taken on a soothing quality. “We have medical equipment and therapies that are years away from becoming public. If you worked for us, you would have doctors at your disposal who could not only fix your legs, but make them better than before. And the tech…oh, you have no idea what’s coming.”
She had no doubt any deal she made with them would be a deal with the devil. “I bet Al didn’t know what was coming either.”
“That was unfortunate, but I think you’ll be smarter than Mr. Krum, won’t you? You won’t snap at the hand that feeds you. You would be grateful to someone who could fix your legs, wouldn’t you?”
The thought of standing tall and straight and pain free whispered through her soul. Wasn’t that what she’d always wanted? A way to erase what her father had done to her? A way to be whole again?
“How good are you, love?” Simon whispered the question in her ear, dragging her out of her very tempting thoughts.
Fuck. There was no doubt about what he was asking. She was an excellent shot. Charlotte had made sure of it. Sometimes the only place Chelsea had gone to outside of her apartment was the gun range. But she’d never had to do it while cuddled up in a man’s arms and she’d absolutely never had to do it when she was protecting a man. She simply nodded and prayed she could make the shot when the time came.
Simon’s body pressed against hers.
“You’re not going to make the same mistakes.” Asshole One seemed to really like the sound of his own voice. “Mr. Krum decided he no longer wished to be employed by my boss.”
“So you killed him. I think that will get you a severe talking to from the HR department.” She kept talking. He had to show his face sometime. He was two flights up. Chelsea gripped the SIG. The safety was already off. She lined up her shot using Simon’s broad shoulder to rest her arm.
A chuckle wound its way down the stairwell. “Even your sarcasm would be welcomed, Miss Dennis. We like smart people where I work. So I’m giving you the choice. Come with me or I’ll kill your companion and take you anyway.”
“They’ll kill me no matter what you do,” Simon said, his body tensed as though just waiting for that bullet to hit.
Then he would be as dead as Al was and she would feel that ache forever. Life had been so much easier before Charlotte decided to force her into the real world.
“I think I’ll take a hard pass on the employment offer.” She spoke but she was really thinking about the job ahead of her. He would show himself and Chelsea had to be ready. She had one chance and only one chance because if she missed and he got a shot off, Simon’s back was a far bigger target than what she would have to aim at. Simon would go down and Chelsea would be taken in.
Any minute. Any second. Breathe. Focus. Let the world narrow to a tiny pinpoint. That target was all that mattered. It wasn’t a human being. It was a target to hit. Chelsea prided herself on always hitting her mark.
“That is unfortunate.”
And there he was. She heard him step forward, her entire being focused on one thing and one thing only. There was the light sound of his shoes squeaking across the concrete floor and then his face came into view.
Chelsea pulled the trigger.
Apparently The Collective hadn’t prepared the dude for a headshot.
She watched as his gun fell, passing her by on its way to the bottom of the stairwell. The body slumped back, disappearing from view again.
Simon took off running for the door. God. She’d killed a man. She’d done it again. She’d put a bullet in his face and he wouldn’t move or walk or talk again. If he’d had a family, he wouldn’t see them again. She didn’t know anything about him, didn’t know if someone would miss him.
She’d only known that it was him or Simon, and there was no choice between them.
“How much time do we have? Is he behind us already?” Simon asked as he raced down the hall.
He hadn’t seen what she’d done. He thought she’d just fired and bought them a moment or two. “He’s not going to follow us.”
Simon turned and Chelsea couldn’t help but continue to watch over his shoulder. “Where did you hit him?”
“Headshot. He’s gone.”
He stopped in front of the elevator doors at the end of a long hallway. He set her down and took the gun back. Pushing the button to call the elevator, he took a long breath and settled his bag over his arm again. It struck her quite forcibly that everything they had in the world was in that bag. She had to hope Simon packed properly.
She hated being out of control. It made her feel small, insignificant—like the child she’d been.
“You had to do it.” Simon was staring down at her.
She nodded. It wasn’t like it was the first time she’d killed a man. It was just the first time she’d done it with a gun. Her bucket list was getting smaller and smaller.
The bell dinged and the doors opened. Simon was ready this time. He was prepared to shoot anyone in the elevator.
Blissful silence met them.
“Come on.” He hauled her in with him and the doors closed again.
“Do you think he was lying?” Asshole Number One likely hadn’t gotten his job because he was such a stand-up guy.