Page 34 of Steinbeck (The Minnesota Kingstons #5)

ELEVEN

She knew it. Just... knew it.

“Get down, Britta!”

Emberly stood close enough to the female secret service agent to hear the thrum of urgency in her voice. The woman positioned her body over Britta’s as water splattered down into the exhibition room. They’d retreated to the back greenroom area.

Okay, so no time to congratulate herself on her brilliant instincts—which had resulted in obsessive sheet-twisting insomnia—last night as she’d sorted through Logan Thorne’s story and pieced it together from different angles.

She just couldn’t believe that attacking Declan’s exhibition would rattle national security.

So what if a billionaire inventor’s creation had glitches or even infiltration into his AI program?

Sure, that meant that some rogue government could attach a virus to the AI program, thwart its intended target’s national security.

In fact, that had been her mission—to secure the world from the threats of Axiom.

Except... Luis . What if he’d been using the Swans all along? He’d been the one to suggest the creation of the virus over a year ago. Had been the one who offered to create it if she could get her hands on Axiom.

It all fit—but she’d been too focused on the Skynet/ Terminator angle to see the fine details.

No wonder Tomas had come after her following her little foray into the ladies’ room with Princess Imani—who had told her about today’s event... with President White’s daughter, Britta.

Now, Emberly stood in the hallway to the back exit, garbed in the staff security uniform she’d nicked from the rental-security’s staging area.

She’d gotten lucky too—found the badge of a woman who looked enough like her to pass scrutiny.

Dark hair—the wig from last night, now cut shorter and under a cap—and a uniform that included a stun gun.

She’d passed all the checkpoints and taken up a position against the wall, watching the panelists take the stage.

Princess Imani, Princess Madeline, and of course Britta White.

The panelists also included a woman from Nigeria and another from Thailand.

One by one, they’d given short inspirational speeches behind a podium, then taken their places at a long sturdy table, answering questions from the audience.

When chaos had erupted, the table had been pushed over by one of the secret service agents, an attempt to protect the ladies before herding them into the greenroom.

Funny, all the comms coming off her walkie focused on the chaos in the other exhibit hall. And yet, inside the greenroom, Pippa and the other security, especially the Secret Service, were on their phones, calling for assistance.

Tomas had somehow gotten past all the security the team had set up around Declan’s exhibit. It didn’t surprise her, really. Luis would have figured out a way to get past the shutdown of the Internet.

“We need to evac.” This from Pippa, who joined Emberly at the back entrance. She glanced at Emberly, then at the door and back again.

“Phoenix? How’d you get here?”

“I figured it out.”

Pippa frowned.

“Later. This door leads out to the back hallway and stairs that go down all the way to the service area.”

Pippa’s hair was plastered to her head, the water dripping down her face onto her black suit. She leaned into her cuff mic. “Fraser. For the love, come in.”

“If you’re connected via the Wi-Fi, it’s out.”

Pippa gave her a hard look. “No, it’s a cell connection.”

“Could be jammed.”

A secret service agent stepped out of the greenroom. “We’re cut off too. We need to move Starlight, now.”

Oh. Britta .

“I know,” Pippa snapped. “But let’s all calm down and get some eyes in the hallway before?—”

The back door opened. Security—wearing the same uniform as Emberly—streamed in, a handful of men and a woman, holding handguns, AR-15s strapped over their shoulders. Pippa stepped back into the room, took a position in front of Imani.

The three secret service women drew their weapons.

“We’re building security. Let’s go.” This from one of the older men, salt-and-pepper hair, a seasoned look on his face. He spoke with an accent, maybe Hispanic, and he held open the door as his men entered the room, ushering the others out.

Emberly stayed back, suddenly aware of her uniform, the fact that?—

“Who are you?”

She turned and faced one of the men, who glanced at her badge, back at her.

“Can’t you read?” Then she walked into the greenroom. “Okay, everyone, just head down the hallway, down the stairs.”

Pippa shot her a frown just before she exited, her hand on Imani.

Yeah, something didn’t feel right.

And then... Wait ?—

She ran after Pippa, grabbed her arm right before she got to the door. Pippa had hold of Imani, pulled her back.

“What if these guys did the same thing I did? What if?—”

“Keep moving.” The command came from behind her, a voice that...

No .

She turned, and of course Boris stood behind her. He’d clearly found another bull-bodied man from whom to filch his uniform, and now he startled, his gaze on her.

“Run, Pippa,” Emberly said quietly and took a step toward Boris. “Round three?”

Behind her, Pippa had grabbed Imani around the waist for protection and now ran toward the exhibition hall.

Boris took a step toward Emberly, who raised her hands.

“This is going to go badly for you,” Emberly snapped. He smiled and reached for her.

She dodged him, ran out into the exhibition hall.

The white pops of smoke bombs exploding made her hit the carpet.

Somewhere in the clutter, Pippa and Imani had vanished.

Boris hauled Emberly up by her arm. “Trying to run, little rat?” He pushed her toward the exit. She stumbled, hit the wall, turned back to him, her stun gun out, and lunged.

He slapped the gun away, but she rolled and lunged again.

The gun hit his hip and his leg buckled.

He fell and she rounded back toward the door to the hall.

Gunshots in the hallway stopped her. A scream added to the chaos.

She turned.

Britta’s secret service agent lay in a puddle of blood.

Oh no, no ? —

And then— yep, she should have guessed—Igor appeared, holding his AR-15. Pointing it at her.

Boris still writhed on the floor, cursing, but he managed to climb to his feet. He staggered out, and Igor motioned with his gun.

No. No way was she ending up in a gulag in Russia.

Then Boris turned and smiled, something in his grip.

A chill shook through her.

Grenade.

“Don’t—”

He pulled the pin, still smiling.

“Don’t!”

“Phoenix!”

She stilled, whirled around.

No—no!

Steinbeck appeared through the gauzy smoke, running. “Phoenix!”

“Get back! Grenade! He’s got a grenade?—”

Igor grabbed her arm and yanked, and she fell against him as he headed toward the stairwell. She fought him?—

Boris tossed the grenade past her, into the exhibition hall.

“Stein, run!”

Igor slammed her through the doorway, into the hall, just as the door exploded out and hit the wall. She landed on the concrete, heat bursting through her shoulder, her head slamming against the floor.

She lay for a moment, just... What? What ? —

Steinbeck!

Igor growled, then rolled to his feet. Hauled her up by her vest and dragged her down the hallway.

Smoke cluttered the doorway, billowed out of the room.

Steinbeck. Not again—she couldn’t leave him again. She slammed her foot into Igor’s leg, but he just turned and cuffed her across the face.

Pain exploded in her cheekbone, and her nose instantly bled, hot as he dragged her down the hallway, past another secret service officer, down the stairwell.

Screams echoed from below, maybe Britta and Madeline fighting their captors.

Igor practically pushed Emberly down the stairs, and she stumbled, hitting the wall with her injured shoulder. Then he grabbed her up and pushed her the next flight down. She kept her feet, scrambled ahead of him, breathing hard.

“Keep your head.”

Mystique, in her brain, clearing it.

“Don’t think of Steinbeck. Broken. Bleeding... Dead.”

She hit the landing, spotted Britta and Madeline below. Madeline struggled in her captor’s hold, her red hair out of its twist, her blue eyes flashing as she kicked at the man.

He slammed her against the wall, leaned in, and snarled something.

Madeline spat at him.

Oh boy.

Britta had taken a different route. Simply dropped, unmoving on the floor, her body a knot as the man tried to dislodge her.

He grabbed her hair and pulled. She screamed, fell to her back, kicking him, but he finally forced her up.

Madeline bore a welt on her face.

Now Emberly joined them at the bottom of the stairs, near the building’s loading dock.

Madeline’s captor shoved her against the concrete wall, grabbing her hands. She fought him, twisting, leaving a scrape of blood on the wall, but he managed to get zip ties onto her.

Britta tried to hard-jaw her tears, but she lowered her head, sobbing as her captor secured her wrists too.

“Leave her alone!” Emberly rushed him, pushed him hard, and he slammed against the door.

“Grab her!” This to Igor, who cuffed Emberly on her shoulder blade.

She grunted, fell, and tucked his stolen pepper spray into her vest.

Then she turned, and before Igor could hit her again, she put her wrists together, side to side. “Just calm down. No need to get rough.”

Igor snapped on the flexicuffs.

“We should leave her,” said Boris, finally down the stairs. “Shoot her here.”

“No. We can use her.” The voice jerked her, turned her hollow.

Tomas stepped into the area, dressed in a suit, a tie. He looked at Emberly, smiled. “This just gets more interesting.”

Then he jerked his head, motioning them out the door.

The loading area held a few pallets, a forklift, and a delivery truck parked near the far door. Emberly did the math. If the men got them inside the truck, they would be in the wind.

Not. Happening.

She bumped up against Madeline as the men herded them down the stairs.

“Get ready to run.”

Madeline shot her a look as Emberly caught up to Britta. “Be brave.”