Page 18 of Taken With Trouble

The driver turns the gun on me. “I guess I’ll have to take care of you first, then.”

I kick at the same time Liam brings his fist down on the man’s wrist. We connect with him… and each other.

“Ow!” Liam grunts.

“What did you do that for?” I yell, knocking the gun from the man’s hand.

“I was trying to save you!” Liam reaches forward and smacks the guy’s head into the divider. He groans, and his head falls against the window.

“I don’t need you to save me.” I grab the bag and hop out of the car, clocking my exits, adrenaline racing. Screw helping Liam, and therefore helping myself. I’m getting away from the man with a bounty on his head. He’s a walking death trap.

I can find Liam again, but not if I’m dead.

“Where are you going?” Liam yells at my back. I don’t turn, but I hear the distinct sound of a grunt before the trunk of the cab shuts.

“Home!” I shout, racing to the nearest cross street.

Footsteps pound behind me. “I don’t think so. You have my jewelry box.”

I roll my eyes. “I thought it was the Winthrops.”

“It is. And we have to return it to them.”

I stumble on a crack in the road. “Pass.”

“You can’t pass.”

“I can.”

“Don’t make me stick you in a coffin again.”

I whirl around and grab his neck. “Go ahead and try.”

He eases out of my grip, hands raised. “Okay, let’s get somewhere safe, then we’ll talk this through rationally… without our hands.” He pauses. “Or with them, but in a much nicer way.”

I ignore his flirtatious rationality and narrow my eyes. “You put that guy in the trunk, didn’t you?”

“No comment.”

“I’m an FBI agent. I cannot run around with a killer—”

“He’ll be fine. Someone will hear him soon. Probably the people who were waiting for us on that boat.”

My eyes flick to movement over Liam’s shoulder. Two men dressed in black with tattoos crawling up the right sides of their necks are walking up the dock, their dark, beady eyes aimed at us. They aren’t scrawny French cab drivers. They’re hitmen. “Like those guys?”

“Go!” Liam yells.

I run, the yells of the men echoing up the alley behind me.

I’m almost to a cross street when I hear the first shot. I don’t look back to see if Liam is with me or not. I run because my life depends on it. Stupid Liam convincing me to help him return the box. Forget him. I’ve got the box; that’s all I need. He won’t be able to resist it, and he’ll come to me to get it back. I’ll trap him andbang. Done. Easy. That is, if he doesn’t get shot since he’s way slower than me. I can’t even hear him anymore. I could turn around, see if he’s been captured, but I don’t. I have to look out for myself. That’s what I’ve trained my whole life to do.

My heart pumps with the adrenaline that will help keep me alive. The fear can either control me or compel me. Right now, I choose compel.

I hit a main road and dive around a car barreling down the street. I race east, toward Paris, jumping over planters and dodging pedestrians who shoot me very dirty looks. I need to get to the embassy. Maybe I can get lost in the flow of tourists heading for the Louvre—

A black car jumps the curb in front of me, and I scream before rearing back, recalculating my options.

“Hop in!”