Page 42 of Being Bold (Tactical Operations & Protection (TOP) Security #1)

Expecting his move, she easily dodged the swipe he made at her, spinning in her high heels to keep him in her sight.

Physically, he had the advantage in height and reach.

If she wanted to survive this, she’d have to disarm him.

When he lunged again, she gripped his arm and used it to toss him over her body.

She spun as he hit the concrete floor, his breath pushed from his lungs in a painful-sounding expulsion. While he lay stunned, she put her stiletto to use, stabbing it through the fleshy part of his hand and forcing him to drop the knife. With her other foot, she kicked the weapon away.

She didn’t have time to celebrate that fact because she’d severely pissed the guy off.

He ripped his hand away and jumped to his feet with a roar.

Then he launched himself at her, throwing punches she had to work hard to block.

Each time he connected with the outside of her arms, she felt the force of it reverberate through her bones.

If she lived through this, she’d be sore tomorrow.

On the defensive, she didn’t have an opening to use her blade. He’d nearly pushed her back to the wall. Wanting to avoid getting stuck, she tucked her shoulder and rolled forward.

Coming up behind him, she struck with her tanto before he even had a chance to turn. She’d aimed for his kidney. Maybe he’d live, maybe he wouldn’t.

As he dropped to his knees then tumbled forward, she tried not to think about the blood pooling underneath him. The important thing was that he wouldn’t be coming after her. Using his dark suit jacket to clean off her blade, she strapped it back to her thigh.

Steeling herself, she checked the guard slumped in front of the server that held Sentient Shadow for a pulse.

Nothing beat beneath the skin at his neck.

He was dead. Shifting her focus, she pulled a cord from her holster.

With it, she connected her phone to the drive and started to overwrite Sentient Shadow.

The program she used would replace the entirety of the AI model with random ones and zeroes five separate times.

It was the surest method to ensure the weapon’s destruction without physically destroying the server.

An option she’d considered, but one that would draw way too much attention.

What she was doing would render Sentient Shadow unreadable—useless.

For good measure, she encrypted the overwritten information so that no one could access it.

It was an encryption of her own making. Only she had the key, and she planned to destroy that for redundancy’s sake.

If she were lucky, it would take Dao a while to realize the AI model had been tampered with.

Although . . . she glanced at the blond man who was groaning and bleeding out on the floor. His presence would set off alarms.

With a sigh, she finished the encryption and disconnected from the server. The best she could hope for was to make it out of the embassy before that happened.

With that aim in mind, she stowed her equipment. The quickest way out of the room was to walk by the man she’d incapacitated. Giving him as wide a berth as she could in the narrow path between rows, she began to scoot past when she sensed movement from him.

Before she could react, a burn scorched across her leg.

She hissed in pain. The man had found the knife she’d kicked and used it to slice her leg through the slit in her dress.

Enraged, she dropped to one knee, grabbed the weapon from his weakened grip before he could use it on her again, and plunged it through his neck.

Gasping, she crawled away from him. When she was far enough to be comfortable, she took stock of her injury.

There was a deep gash in the back of her right calf.

Knowing it would leave a blood trail, she ripped the ruffled trim off the bodice of her dress and wrapped it around her lower leg.

At least the man hadn’t cut through her dress.

The length would hide the injury enough to get out of the embassy.

With a grunt, she pulled herself to her feet and headed quickly back to the ballroom.

By the time she made it, she was limping. Her leg throbbed relentlessly. It felt like blood streamed out of the wound with each step she took. She prayed it didn’t drip and draw notice before she could properly tend to it.

Feeling the wall, she found the lever and pressed.

The hidden door slid aside, allowing her to step back into the ballroom.

Hearing the door latch behind her, she took a steadying breath, leaning so as not to put weight on her right leg.

Music played softly from the stage while a din of voices and glasses clinking filled the air in between.

No one noticed her slip from behind the wall hanging.

Or so she thought.

“Ah, there you are,” said a voice she didn’t recognize as a large hand closed around her right upper arm.

Her instinct was to make whoever thought they could touch her regret that decision, but she reminded herself she didn’t need to draw attention. Gritting her teeth, she met the gaze of the man who’d stopped her.

You!

Her mind stuttered on the exclamation as her stomach jumped and her breath shortened. It was the man who’d watched her on the stairs. Mr. Handsome was even better up close. He had flawless skin.

Probably moisturizes.

She smirked at the thought. High maintenance was not her type. Even so, she couldn’t stop staring. His eyes were a deep caramel color, he had a cleft in his chin, and a dimple winked in his right cheek when he smiled at her perusal.

Get it together, Yumi!

She blinked, breaking out of the lust filling her senses. “Let go of me,” she told him in as stern a tone as she could muster with her breathing going haywire at his touch.

He released her arm and extended a hand, his smile never wavering. “Barrett Burkhart. And you are?”

She started reaching for his hand, but then her brain reminded her she needed to get the hell out. “Leaving,” she huffed, then spun around.

She winced when she took a step too vigorously, the pressure sending a sharp ache vibrating down her injured leg. Burkhart noticed.

“You’re hurt,” he told her with a frown.

Ignoring him, she tried to keep her face in a neutral expression to hide it as she moved toward the ballroom exit.

She made it a few steps, panting in pain, before Mr. Handsome lifted her off her feet.

He carried her against his chest with one arm at her back, the other underneath her legs as though she weighed nothing.

“Put me down!” she hissed under her breath. People were starting to notice, and she wriggled in panic. “Now, dammit!”

Concern dotted his features, but he did as she asked. “Let me help you.”

“If you want to help, let me lean on your arm,” she demanded while surveying the ballroom. The people whose attention they’d drawn had returned to their conversations. Yumi breathed a slow exhale of relief.

When she glanced at Barrett Burkhart again— What kind of name is that? —he held his arm out, waiting. Sliding hers through, she leaned heavily into him with her left side.

“Okay, Barry—”

“It’s Barrett.”

The fact that she detected annoyance at the nickname almost made her grin. “Right. Let’s walk naturally to the nearest exit. Please,” she added through clenched teeth.

“Who are you?” he asked as he complied.

“Who are you ?” she countered, hoping inane conversation would keep her mind off the burning pain.

“I’m a lawyer with the State Department. What brings you to this event?”

“You ask a lot of questions, BB.”

“BB?” He shook his head, but she detected a smile in his voice as he said, “I’m a lawyer. It’s my job to ask questions. You evading them only makes me want to know more.”

“Hmm,” she hummed a noncommittal response and steered him toward the elevator. No way would she make it up the stairs right now. The cloth around her leg had soaked through with blood, and she was afraid to look down to see if she made a trail.

“What happened to your leg?”

“Someone cut it.”

“Are you serious?” His question sounded choked.

“Yep,” she popped the “p.”

Hitting the button to call the elevator, she turned to stare at him. His eyes were wide in shock. She arched her brow at him. He blinked, dropping to his knees in front of her. Then, he reached for the hem of her dress and started to lift it.

“Hey!” She swatted his hands away and stepped back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He blew out a breath, then ran a hand through his perfectly-styled hair, mussing it a little. “Do you need a doctor?”

“No. I just need to get out of this building.” She glared at the elevator. The embassy didn’t have that many floors. Why the hell was it taking so long?

“Who did that to you?” The fury shining in his eyes with the question made her own widen in surprise.

Seriously, who is this guy?

The elevator dinged, and she looked away. Wondering if he’d follow, she stepped into the lift.

Burkhart was right behind her. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Yumi almost snorted. The lawyer was trying to puzzle her out. Maybe she’d have been amused if she hadn’t been in the worst kind of trouble. But the CIA wanted her dead. What she needed was to disappear.

When she said nothing, he lowered his voice. Sidling closer, he lightly touched the top of her arm. “I have a brother who . . .” he trailed off with a shake of his head. “He could help.”

The elevator opened on the main floor, and she looked up at Burkhart, silently demanding he offer his arm. When he got the hint, she wrapped hers around him, asking, “Who’s your brother?”

They exited the lift, and she leaned on him while steering around the crowd toward the main entrance.

“Miles, or I guess he goes by Crane? He works for Tactical Operations & Protection. They—”

“I’ve heard of it,” she cut him off.

Well, that’s interesting . . .

She hadn’t met Crane, but she recognized the name. The rest of his team at TOP was very familiar to her. Maybe Barrett Burkhart might come in handy, after all.

They were nearly to the glass exit doors when she felt it. Blood trickled past the bandage on her leg. Gravity urged its flow down her skin, and soon it would leave droplets on the limestone under their feet.

“Shit!” she cursed softly.

“What’s wrong?” Burkhart’s question sounded far away.

Her heels echoed against the stone and the noise buzzed in her ears. She blinked as the lights in the hall darkened at the edges of her vision. Her head didn’t feel right. Another step, and she stumbled, but Barrett’s arm kept her vertical.

Damn. She must have lost more blood than she realized.

Clinging to him, she managed to mumble, “Take me to TOP,” before her vision completely tunneled and she lost her grip on consciousness.