Page 83

83

Eva

I kick the door open before the doorman can get it for me. I zero in on the security guards first. They don’t expect me, so the first one is easy. The second one shoots me.

The bullet just grazes my shoulder because I know to duck and roll after the first kill in a three-way shoot-out. I take cover behind an enormous imperial Ming vase because, if it’s authentic, it’s worth more than either of our lives.

He blows the vase apart, so I guess I know it’s a fake. I get a shot in while the debris is still flying.

I spot the doorman creeping toward a box on the wall that has to be some kind of alarm. I could take out the doorman, but he’s unarmed. And he’s too far away to stop without risking myself.

Security guard number two is taking aim at me again, so I duck and roll (in the same direction, because the opposite is too predictable). I shoot the alarm on the off chance that it will disarm the system.

It doesn’t. A horrible sound pierces the air. The guard cringes bodily at the sound, so his shot misses. Mine doesn’t. He’s down. The doorman knows when to make an exit.

The elevator operator is headed out the same way until I cock a gun at his head and say, nicely, “Top floor, please.”

The elevator rockets up beneath my feet. The city falls away. I hate to admit it, but I feel fucking good. I missed this—sin, that it is.

The elevator snaps to a stop. The operator doesn’t move to open the grate and I don’t encourage him. We are still inside the wrought iron cage when I see Bruce pin Jonathan against a desk. I could’ve guessed their new arrangement wouldn’t work out, but I thought it would last longer than five minutes.

I’m guessing this was Jonathan’s plan—to get me out of harm’s way so he could take down Bruce—but he should have learned by now that he can’t do these things alone. He needs me, and it’s okay to need someone. It’s maybe the only thing that keeps you human.

Three of the guards are pointing their guns at Jonathan’s head; the other is speaking into an alarm system on the wall, trying to make contact with the guys downstairs. Thanks to the wailing alarm, no one has heard me. No one has seen me yet.

I lift my gun and take aim.

I can see Jonathan shaking with the effort of holding Bruce off. If I shoot now, the bullet might go through Bruce and hit Jonathan. I need them to separate.

I try to be patient, try to wait for my shot, but Jonathan’s flagging and it’s only a matter of time before the guards notice me. Bruce has the upper hand. If I don’t shoot now, I might be too late. Jonathan would want me to take the shot—I know he would, because I would want the same thing.

Sweat beads along my hairline. Goose bumps dapple my flesh. My heart is racing so fast. If Bruce kills Jonathan I’ll lose my distraction, and I won’t stand a chance against him and his guards. I need to shoot now. I need to kill him now.

The guard at the wall gives up on the alarm system. He seems to realize that the downstairs guards are gone, which can mean only one thing.

His eyes go straight to the elevator, to me. His jaw drops.

Meanwhile, Jonathan starts to lose his grip on his sword. Bruce leans in. My finger is contracting on the trigger when, suddenly, Jonathan feints and throws Bruce off.

Bruce staggers back as the guard yells in French, “The elevator!”

Bruce spots me through the grate. He looks confused, as if he can’t understand why I—an assassin—would be pointing a gun at his head. Story of my fucking life.

Bang!

The four armed guards turn toward me and open fire, giving Jonathan an out.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

I take cover in the corner of the elevator. The operator panics and presses every button in sight. Sparks fly as the elevator drops.

We screech to a stop at the next floor down.

“We need to go back up,” I direct.

The elevator operator shoots me a fearful look. He forces the cage open and makes a run for it. Fine. His job is the definition of “extraneous.”

I search for some kind of override, but he’s pressed too many buttons. The elevator doors start to shut. I pull the emergency stop.

I see the elevator operator racing toward a stairwell. I abandon the elevator and follow him. He runs faster, poor thing, but once we reach the stairwell, I head up as he goes down.

I left Jonathan with four armed guards carrying assault rifles. Even if I did kill Bruce, that leaves Jonathan with a sword at a gun party.

I need to get back there—fast.