Page 14

C HAPTER 14

W e woke early the next morning. Gio cooked breakfast while the rest of us packed up. I wondered if Gio would return to the house or if there was a between-clients safe house cleaning crew who came through and turned it over for the next guests. Since I was already comfortable with him, especially after our shooting lesson, and because I assumed Anthony and Portia would want to spend any time together that they had left, I offered to ride with Gio for the trip.

Anthony held me back in the driveway before we climbed into the cars. “Penny, I just want to say thank you for yesterday. For asking me about Uncle Lou.” He looked at me, and his eyes dazzled a deep honey brown in the morning light. “That was very kind of you.”

I gave him a gentle return smile. “Sure.”

He swiped a hand through his hair. We’d ventured into feelings territory, and it had us both nervous. “So I can’t promise a tropical vacation quite yet, but when this all works out, can I maybe take you on a date?”

I couldn’t fight the flush that ignited in my cheeks. I took a step closer to him. “I admire your optimism that this is all going to work out.”

He quietly laughed at my callback to our night on the road. “Uh, it better work out, because I know a professor who has to make tenure by the end of summer.”

“Too bad taking down a megalomaniac billionaire and setting his wife free won’t count toward my case.”

“You should talk to your committee about that.”

“They’d be pretty hard to sway.”

His playful smile faltered at the corners. He wrapped an arm around my back and his voice grew serious. “Penny, I’m really sorry about dragging you into all of this.”

I exhaled a long, tired breath. “I mean, it’s collectively the most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to me, but if I hadn’t tried to buy those candlesticks, I never would have met you, so it’s not all bad news.”

He impishly grimaced and brought his face closer to mine. “Just mostly bad news.”

“Meh. The good might outweigh the bad.” I hungrily outlined his lips with my eyes.

“You are giving me entirely too much credit.”

“Have you seen yourself in a hideous grandpa shirt from a trunk suitcase?”

“Stop. You’ll inflate my ego.”

“I don’t think it can get any bigger,” I countered.

“There’s always room.”

“Are you going to kiss me anytime soon?”

“Is that what you’re waiting for?” he asked, his interest obvious.

“That, or for you to run out of quips.”

“I’ve got endless quips. Countless quips. Limitless quips—”

I pushed up on my toes and kissed him. He tightened his arm around my back, and I felt his smile against my lips. It was the first time we’d kissed standing up, and having to reach for it somehow made it all the sexier. He leaned into it hungrily, and I welcomed him. His tongue swept over mine, and I reached up to fist my hand in his hair. It was silky and thick, and tugging on it coaxed a little moan out of him. The sound made me want to climb him like a tree.

I held back, only because his ribs were still broken.

We kissed under the soaring Nevada sky, with the thrilling excitement of it still being one of our first, but also with an uncertain desperation, realizing it might have been one of our last.

“See you in Vegas,” he said when he eventually pulled back and planted one last kiss on my temple. He climbed into the Camaro. Portia tucked into the passenger seat, and I joined Gio in the silver sedan of no remarkable make or appearance.

“This car is generic on purpose, isn’t it,” I said to Gio as we pulled away from the house.

“Yes, ma’am. One of the most common cars on the road, actually. Harder to spot. Not exactly as exciting as that, but it gets the job done.” He pointed out the windshield as Anthony turned the corner in front of us.

The morning sun winked off the Camaro’s glossy sheen. With Anthony in the driver’s seat, wearing a pair of sunglasses, and Portia’s blond hair blowing out the window, they looked like a couple of movie stars. I wondered if we’d looked that sexy fleeing across the state in the middle of the night. I somehow doubted it.

“Did you know Portia before this?” I asked.

“No, but I care about her now. Being in close quarters with someone for several days can change things.”

“I’ll say.”

He detected the smile in my voice and glanced over at me. “Didn’t exactly expect to meet Tony in all this, did you?”

“No, definitely not. I wasn’t planning on meeting anyone anytime soon. I’m focusing on my career right now.”

He sighed a dreamy sound. “Gotta love life’s curveballs.”

I softly smiled and felt the sun splash my face through the window. We rolled out of the tiny town and onto the highway, where traffic was nonexistent. Compared to the rush and noise of a city, the rural emptiness held a certain shock factor—shocking in that I enjoyed it. I silently wondered what it would be like to live someplace so remote. So removed from the world’s radar.

“Where’s home for you, Gio?”

“Wherever it needs to be.”

I turned to him in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded. “I go where the jobs take me, but I guess if I had to choose a home base, it would be where my folks are in Texas. That’s where I grew up.”

“Interesting.” I had a vision of him as a little boy wearing a cowboy hat. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve got an older brother, who thinks he knows everything.”

I snorted a laugh. “I have one of those, except a sister.”

“Ah, I knew I sensed a kindred youngest-child spirit. My brother is a neurosurgeon, so I guess he’s got a leg to stand on. He’s pretty smart.”

“Hmm. Do you think he can stitch me back together when my sister tries to kill me after all this?”

He chuckled a warm, jolly sound. “What does your sister do?”

“Besides try to set me up with every man under the sun? She’s a stay-at-home mom.”

“Ooh, a know-it-all and a meddler! The best kind. Does she know about Tony? Or is she going to be heartbroken when you tell her that her matchmaking skills are no longer needed?”

I shot him a glare that was halfhearted and mostly smile. “Actually, she was the one who introduced us. At the time, she didn’t know about all this ”—I gestured at the car and our general surroundings—“and I’m sure she would have had an opinion, but too late for that.”

“That’s right. You’re in it now, baby sis. No turning back!” He thumped his hand on the steering wheel for emphasis.

I laughed. “How long have you known Anthony?”

“Long enough to know he cares about you. A lot. I’ve never seen him on the ground for a job. Granted, this isn’t a normal job, but the fact you’re here with him says a lot.”

A wave of insecurity hit me. Through all the hiding and escaping and running, I wondered if what had sprouted between me and Anthony grew from the situation and not something more organic. I felt oddly comfortable sharing my vulnerability with the hulk of a man beside me, who I’d only known for a day. “Portia said the same thing. You don’t think it’s a matter of circumstance?”

“No,” Gio said, shaking his head. “You’re here because of a choice. He made the choice to come save you. People don’t risk themselves for people they don’t care about.”

As his words landed, I realized I wasn’t only trying to get back home, but I was also helping Anthony. Because I cared about him.

“You’re remarkably intuitive, Gio.”

“Thank you. Now, find us a good radio station. We’ve got a long way to go.”

We pulled into Vegas midafternoon.

Las Vegas in the daylight always felt naked to me. As if someone had turned on all the lights inside a club, and I could see the imperfections and blemishes: the dirty sidewalks, the faded signs, the used-up people still awake from the night before. As a place designed around the debaucheries of nighttime, the sunshine did it no favors.

Also, it was hot as hell.

The Venetian sat at the north end of the Strip, almost like an endcap to the main drag. A few more resorts scattered beyond it, but most of the foot traffic of boozed-up revelers walking the Strip any given night ended their journey at the ode to Italian opulence.

We skipped the valet and navigated the maze of a parking garage. When we parked among a field of other cars, we climbed out into the musky, exhaust-tinged desert air. Portia had let me borrow an outfit a little classier than athleisure: jeans and a silk blouse. I still wore the pink running shoes. She, on the other hand, was dressed down in leggings, a hoodie, a low ponytail, and oversized sunglasses. Along with Anthony and Gio in their streetwear, we looked like any pair of couples checking into their hotel for a stay in Vegas.

Given the whole point of this trip was to meet a federal agent, Anthony felt it best to leave the bag of guns in the car. No one in Vegas was going to question a suitcase of cash, but a bag of guns was another thing altogether. We carried the green suitcase full of clothes, and Portia’s two roller bags so we didn’t look completely out of place showing up for a supposed stay.

A parking garage elevator delivered us to a glossy marble walkway a world away from the concrete tomb we’d left. The acrid smell of smoke already curled in from the casino floor the second we stepped inside. We found our way to the registration desk inside a towering room with marble pillars and a dizzying checkered floor. I gazed up at the gold accents and domed ceiling, feeling like I could have been in an Italian palace. It was positively buzzing with activity. Guests zipped around, dragging luggage or swinging shopping bags. Women clicked by in sharp heels and carried tiny handbags. Men hung off each other, loudly laughing and enjoying the revelry. I saw a few clusters of people in business attire, with lanyards dangling from their necks; they were in town for a convention. All walks of Las Vegas life were on full display.

Gio, Portia, and I hung back while Anthony approached the registration desk. He briefly had to wait in line, so Gio and I formed a protective yet casual-looking wall in front of Portia to shield her from onlookers. But as far as I could tell, no one was looking at us. Anthony got to the front of the line, and I imagined him speaking some code word to the clerk. When she snapped into action and produced keycards almost instantly and with no paperwork, I assumed I hadn’t been far off.

“Seriously?” I muttered. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Gio muttered back. I hadn’t realized he’d heard me.

“All set,” Anthony said when he rejoined us. “Luxury king suite, twentieth floor.”

“ Damn, Lou had style,” Gio said. “What else will dropping his name in this town get us?”

Anthony pocketed the keys with a grin and led us to another bank of elevators.

I seriously wondered what the answer to Gio’s question was. “Did Lou have any connections with, I don’t know, Michelin-starred restaurants or anything?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

Anthony shot me a knowing look over his shoulder. “There’s hardly an industry his business didn’t touch.”

“Good to know.”

Visions of the kinds of favors at Anthony’s fingertips unfurled before me as our elevator arrived. We stepped in, and before the door slid shut, a young couple slipped through to join us. From the rigid shift in his posture, I thought Anthony was going to tell them to get out—and, arguably, the car was pretty full with Gio inside it—but he didn’t. Instead Portia shrank back into the corner, and Anthony and Gio strategically stood in front of her. All four of us stopped breathing.

Luckily, the pair was too drunk in love to pay any attention. They hung off each other, gooey-eyed and giggling, probably legitimately drunk, and departed on the fifteenth floor, none the wiser they’d been in the presence of the missing woman all over the news.

I released a breath when no one else climbed in after they left.

“Guess you were right about hiding in plain sight,” Anthony said as he jabbed the button to close the doors. A noticeable tension released inside the small space as we continued our journey.

“I told you Vegas was perfect,” Gio said. “Everyone here is too focused on their own pleasure to see beyond their nose. Just a bunch of hedonists.”

When we arrived on our floor, the tension from the elevator returned. Every step toward the room felt like a step closer to danger. Although the whole point of this mission was to remove the danger. Still, heading to a covert meetup in a Vegas hotel room, accompanied by a suitcase of cash—even if the cash wasn’t part of the deal—made for one hell of a jittery journey.

The lavish suite had walls in shades of ivory and cream, and its furniture was purple and gray. A sunken living room boasted a view of the Strip. The marble bathtub was big enough to swim in. I almost regretted we were only using it as a base camp and not staying for a weekend.

“So, what’s the plan from here?” Gio asked from where he’d generously spread himself on the sofa. His arms layered over the back of it like logs.

“We wait,” Anthony said. “And we prepare. Agent Ives is meeting us here in two hours.”

Portia had busied herself at the minibar. Bottles of top-shelf liquor clinked as she lifted and set them back down. She settled on vodka and began uncorking the cap.

“Portia, I’m not sure that’s the best idea right now,” Anthony said in a gentle tone.

She yanked off the cap and reached for a glass. Her hands visibly shook. “Tony, I’m about to turn my husband over to the FBI so he doesn’t kill me, and in hopes they don’t arrest me with him. I think I am allowed to have a drink,” she snapped. She poured half a glass and sipped it. “Can someone get me some ice?”

Gio popped up at the bite in her voice. “I’m on it.”

He stalked back over to the door as Anthony came around to Portia. He put his hands on her shoulders and coaxed her into taking a deep breath. I heard him muttering to her and didn’t want to intrude. I took the opportunity to find the phone to call my sister. It sat in a cradle on a nightstand beside the enormous bed.

I sank onto the crisp linens and felt the mattress embrace me. After splitting a bed with Portia last night, and the motel bed the night before, it called to me like a Siren. It took all my strength not to fall back against the pillows. I wondered if anyone would mind if I took a nap for the two hours before the FBI showed up.

Libby answered on the second ring, probably tipped off by the strange area code. “Hello?”

“Hey, Lib. It’s me again.”

“Penny! Now where are you?”

I flinched and realized she was probably going to yell at me every time I called, until I came home. Luckily, that event was on the horizon.

“Getting ready to come home.”

“Why aren’t you home already?”

I gazed over at Anthony and Portia still chatting by the minibar. The backdrop of the Strip in daylight loomed behind them. It felt garishly bright from the other end of the long room.

“Because we have to take care of something.”

“ We? Are you still with Anthony?”

“Of course I am. And we’ll be home tomorrow.” The plan was to see Portia off, assuming things went well, and they took her into protective custody; use the room for the night; then we’d leave first thing in the morning for the long drive home.

Libby sighed. Her voice took on a pained and weary plea. “Penny, please just put an end to whatever is going on. I need to know you are safe.”

I ached at the sound of her distress. “That’s what we are doing, Lib. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hung up before my guilt got the best of me and made me cry.

“Who’s thirsty?” Gio asked when he barged back in the door with a bucket of ice. He made his way to the minibar to deposit it.

The suggestion didn’t sound half bad. The last three days had been hell, and I had no part to play in what was about to happen anyway. Gio and I were going to head down to the casino while the room was occupied and then meet up with Anthony, once Portia was securely gone. Having a drink with her now seemed like a proper way to send her off.

“I’ll take one,” I said, and pushed up off the bed.

“I like your style, Professor,” Gio said, and scooped some ice in a glass. “Tony?” he asked, and pointed the little silver shovel at him.

“No thanks,” Anthony said.

Portia clucked. “Tony, come on. Best-case scenario here, we’re never going to see each other again. The least you can do is have a drink with me.” Her voice already sounded looser. I noticed her glass was nearly empty. She handed it to Gio to refill.

“Portia—” Anthony started, his voice pained like he was going to scold her, but she cut him off with a raised hand.

“Don’t tell me not to say that. It’s true: If this works, none of you will ever see me again after tonight.” She looked around at each of us in turn, and I felt my throat thicken with an acute sadness over the reality of it all. I’d only known her for around twenty-four hours, minus our professional encounter a year ago, but it felt like longer, and I cared about her and wanted her to be safe. She gave me a soft smile; I felt she knew what I was thinking. Her eyes washed over with a shiny sheen. She swallowed hard. “You’ve all been through so much for me. You’ve scarified so much, and there’s no possible way I could ever thank you. But please know that my decision to turn in Connor is as much to set myself free as it is to set you all free. You don’t deserve to be caught up in any of this, and I’m sorry you are, and this is what needs to be done. So, please, before I go, do me one more favor and let me have one final drink with my friends.”

I couldn’t hold back the tear that spilled over my lid. I dashed it away with a quick hand as Gio sniffled. Anthony was flushed and rapidly blinking, obviously fighting to keep his eyes dry.

Gio elbowed him and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, “Dude, you’re going to look like a huge jerk if you say no right now.”

Portia and I laughed wet, soggy sounds. She leaned her head over on my shoulder and clinked her glass to the one Gio had handed me.

Anthony finally caved, smiling reluctantly. “Fine. Pour me one.”

Portia cheered and looped her arm through his.

We stood in a little huddle, a hodgepodge of humans brought together through a bizarre chain of circumstances, and somehow already loyally bound. We clinked glasses.

“To freedom,” Gio said.

“To sunny days at the beach,” Portia added.

“To friendship,” Anthony said.

They all turned to me, and the outsider status I’d felt back in the safe house’s kitchen when they were mourning Lou vanished. I was theirs now. And they were mine.

“To new beginnings,” I said, and then we all drank.

We killed the remaining two hours before Agent Ives was set to show up eating room service and laughing, behaving like we really were in town for a fun weekend. Portia declared she didn’t want her final moments as herself to be a solemn occasion, so we lived it up. And she sobered up. She cut herself off after her second drink to be prepared to talk to Agent Ives. I was the only one who kept sipping, and mainly because I was nervous.

I couldn’t shake the sense of a ticking clock counting down to some imminent detonation.

At ten to five, Gio and I said our goodbyes to Portia. The occasion left both of us puffy-eyed and looking like we’d suffered an allergy attack. Anthony kissed my temple and promised to come find us in the casino when everything was said and done.

I kissed him on the mouth and told him what he was doing was selfless and brave. I left him flushed and shyly grinning.

Gio and I made our way down into the casino. Time didn’t exist on the floor—literally; there were no clocks—but I could tell the evening crowd had started to descend. The skirts were shorter, the laughter louder, the cocktails flowing. It was pregame happy hour for whatever the night would hold. Dinner, a show—a night losing and winning money, only to break even before bed. The room was intentionally disorienting: a glittering, flashing maze of lights and sounds designed to snare attention and not let go. I kept my eye on the elevator bank, not wanting to lose sight of our way back to Anthony, as we walked past a dimly lit, roped-off room full of poker tables.

“High rollers,” Gio muttered. “Speaking of . . .” He glanced over his shoulder before he turned toward me and flashed a wad of cash from inside his jacket.

I playfully gasped, still a little woozy from the farewell drinks. “You didn’t. Is that from the suitcase?”

He gave me a sly, guilty grin. “Figured we could have a little fun while we wait.”

“Well, I am not much of a gambler, but I am not opposed to a slot machine.”

“ Pfft. Might as well light this money on fire if you’re going to do that. Let’s play a real game. Come on.” He led us to the cashier and exchanged several hundred dollars for chips. “For the esteemed professor,” he said with a small bow, and placed a stack in my hand.

“Thank you, kind sir.”

“My pleasure. Now, who on this floor are we going to take to school tonight?”

We both gazed out at the options. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d gambled only once before, and would not be taking anyone to school, unless he meant giving them a lecture on probability sampling.

“Ah! Craps, my favorite,” Gio said, and nodded toward an oblong table near the room’s center.

I followed on his heels, making sure I could still see the elevators. “Craps? When you said a real game, I thought you meant one that involved actual skill and not just random chance.”

“Craps does involve skill. You’ve got to guess right. That’s a skill.”

“Perhaps, if you’re skilled at lucky guesses.”

“I’m skilled at all sorts of things.” He gave me a devilish grin and approached a table. Other gamblers easily cleared space for us to join. I positioned myself to keep an eye on the elevators. “Stop looking, Professor. He’s not even here yet.”

I flinched in embarrassment. “How did you know I was looking?”

“Because you haven’t taken your eyes off that corner since we got down here. Relax. And he’s not going to show up with FBI written on his forehead, so you don’t even know who you’re looking for.” He casually threw down some chips on the table. “This is going to take a while, so you might as well throw in.”

I knew he was right, but the thought of waiting and hoping it all went off without a hitch had me feeling helpless. I didn’t know how long it took to give a statement to the FBI, but I imagined it wasn’t instant.

I sighed and dropped a few chips on the table.

“Now we’re talking,” Gio cheered me on right as a cocktail waitress materialized at my elbow.

“Something to drink?” she asked in a honey-sweet voice. She had cleavage up to her chin and eye shadow the color of a peacock. She balanced a tray on one hand littered in empty glasses bobbing with melted ice and lipsticked straws. A tip jar stuffed with singles sat between two expired lime wedges.

“Um, vodka soda, please,” I said. “With a splash of lime.”

“Sure, hon. And for you?” She turned her adoring gaze onto Gio.

“G and T if you please.”

“Of course, sugar. Be right back.” She winked at him and squeezed his arm.

“I think you have a fan,” I said when she sauntered off.

He shrugged. “They treat everyone like that to keep them on the floor. Nothing like free booze and flirting to get people to spend cash.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

“I’ve been around the block. Now let me show you how this is done.” When it came his turn to throw the dice, they looked like something out of a child’s toy set in his hand. The waitress eventually returned with our drinks, and despite the circumstances, I found myself having fun after a while. It may have been the booze. Or Gio’s belly laugh. Or the fact he was actually really good at craps, despite logic suggesting that wasn’t possible, and his enthusiasm was contagious.

I’d lost track of how much time had passed, but was feeling a little tipsy by the time Gio had a small mountain of chips in front of him. I turned away from the table for a breather.

“He has to be here by now, right?” I muttered, recalling why we were even in a casino in the first place.

“What?” Gio muttered over his shoulder, still facing the table.

“Ives. We’ve been down here for twenty minutes? A half hour?”

“Long enough for me to double my winnings so Tony won’t notice the cash missing from his suitcase,” he said, and playfully stuck his tongue out sideways.

I sucked the end of my drink through the straw until it made a sputtering sound. The waitress with the peacock eyes was likely to appear any second to offer to refill it, but I didn’t need another. Not until we were in the clear.

“I want to go check on them,” I said.

“Definitely not. We can’t go up there until it’s done. Tony is going to come find us after.”

Discomfort hung over me like an itchy blanket. I was suddenly antsy.

“Professor, relax. Throw in another bid.”

“Sorry. I’m not very good at standing by and waiting. I just want to know what’s happening.”

“We are destroying the house at craps, that’s what’s happening. Ooh! ” he shouted to a round of cheers from the small crowd at our table. I glanced backward to see another little mountain of chips being pushed his way.

When I turned back to face the elevators, a face in the crowd caught my eye, and I thought I might be hallucinating.

“What?” I murmured in shock.

I blinked several times, thinking maybe my vision had betrayed me, but no. It was still him.

“Gio!” I whispered, and clawed at his bulky arm. He was busy high-fiving the man next to him. “Gio!” I called more desperately, and yanked on him.

“What?” He turned to me, and the look of confused excitement melted from his face at the look on mine. “What’s wrong?”

I knew I’d had alcohol, and I knew I was in a hot room crowded with smoke and noise and flashing lights, but I knew I wasn’t imagining things.

“Is that Connor Slate walking toward the elevators?”

Gio instantly tensed and whipped his head around, all signs of frivolity gone. He followed my pointing finger, and his mouth fell open. “Ho-ly shit.”

Connor stalked the edge of the room with the threat of a shark swimming in dark water. He wore an open jacket over jeans and a collared shirt and looked both like he didn’t care about being seen and like he would flatten anyone who got in his way. Notably, he was alone.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Gio whispered under his breath as Connor made his way to the elevator bank.

I scrambled for an answer, still struggling to believe what I was seeing and understand it. The chances of Connor Slate randomly booking a room at the same hotel we were at on a Thursday night were slim to none—and no one even knew we were here. Anthony had called in a favor for the room, but whoever was on the other end of it had no idea why. I didn’t tell anyone. Gio didn’t tell anyone. Of course Portia and Anthony didn’t. That only left—

“Shit,” Gio said at the same second I figured it out. He looked down at me with a tempered rage in his eyes. “That FBI agent is dirty. He told Connor we’re here.”

My horror seemed to dissolve the alcohol in my system, instantly sobering me. I slapped a hand over my mouth. “Limitless resources,” I muttered.

“What?” Gio asked, having completely turned his back on the craps game.

The pieces unscrambled and snapped sharply in place. I suddenly saw it all. I gripped Gio’s arms in a desperate panic. “Gio, Connor must have bought him. He was afraid Portia was going to talk, so he bought off the agent she was going to talk to. That night in New York, he saw them together, Anthony told me. Connor knew Ives was a threat, so he put him in his pocket. He cut off Portia’s resource before she even tried to use it.”

Gio had gone rigid in shock. I could see thoughts tumbling in his eyes as he tried to work it all out.

But I was two steps ahead of him. “Gio, this meeting was a setup. Connor must be here to . . . finish this. They have no idea he’s coming. They are sitting ducks up in that room. We have to warn them before he kills them both.”

I spun away from the table, abandoning the chips and all sense of self-preservation. My only thoughts were of Anthony and Portia not knowing they’d walked into a trap.

“Penny, wait!” Gio called after me. He caught up in a few steps and, to my relief, didn’t grab my arm and try to stop me. I knew I liked him for a reason. He was definitely a run toward the danger in an emergency type of person. And we were running. Heads briefly turned to see what the fuss was, but everyone went back to their games once we passed.

I was out of breath and fighting the booze bubbling in my veins when we reached the elevators.

“Where’d he go?” Gio asked as he scanned the area.

I’d lost sight of him too, but the bank of elevators was in full use, and he had to be in one of them. “Up! He went up!” I said, and smashed my finger into the call button. I paced in a circle, sweating and swearing. The swarm of guests getting ready to go out for the night was working against us. Everyone had somewhere to be, and the elevators were jammed. The lights above each closed door indicated which floor the elevator was on, and none on either side of the bank were even close.

“Stairs?” I turned to Gio with a desperate hope.

“That’s twenty floors, Penny. We’ll never make it.”

It wasn’t a real suggestion; I would have died by floor five, no doubt, but I still had to say it. “Call Anthony,” I said with a gasp. “The burner phone; you have that number, right?”

“Yes.” Gio nodded and reached for his phone as I jammed the elevator call button again.

I tuned out his attempt and paced again. “Come on, come on, come on! ” I growled at the wall of still-closed doors. I willed one of them to open while at the same time, I willed Anthony to somehow hear my desperate warning. He’s coming. Get out. I thought it as hard as I could in case there was a remote possibility he could sense it.

“He’s not answering,” Gio reported with a shake of his head.

“Damn it.”

Visions of the worst-case scenario swam in my mind. Connor showing up with a gun, catching them off guard. Anthony dead. Portia gone. Agent Ives never even having materialized at all.

“Hurry up!” I shouted at the wall. I’d lost my cool completely. Furious tears blurred my eyes. A fiery rage pushed heat into my face and made me want to scream.

Finally, mercifully, an elevator dinged behind us.

We both spun around and threw ourselves at it. A loud, fragrant crowd of women in glittery dresses with TEAM brIDE sashes stepped out in a clatter of heels. I shoved my way through them, parting a sea of Chanel Number 5.

“Hey, watch it!” one of them snapped at me when I nearly stepped on her foot.

“Sorry!” I flung myself into the empty lift and pressed the button for the twentieth floor, over and over.

Gio stepped in behind me and turned to face the open doors. He spread his arms out to prevent anyone else from entering. “Sorry, this is an emergency, folks.” He said it calmly and rationally and looked like he could snap over his knee anyone who protested, so, thankfully, none of the annoyed guests dared argue.

The doors slid shut, and I prayed no one between us and floor twenty was waiting for a ride to go up.

“Call him again,” I commanded. My hands were slicked with sweat. I shook all over.

“I don’t have a signal in here,” Gio said, and jammed his phone back in his pocket.

I watched the floors light up as we rose into the sky, all the while my heart beating faster and harder. “What are we going to do when we get there?” I asked.

“Assess the situation and then come up with a plan of action.” He sounded like he was reciting tactical orders.

“Right. Of course,” I said, fully intending to follow his lead, but then we arrived on our floor with a ding, and all sense abandoned me.

I shoved my way around him and ran into the hall. “Anthony!” I cried. Panic had taken over again. I had to get to him. I had to save him.

“Penny! Get back here!” Gio hollered behind me. I heard his thunderous steps crashing down the hall as I ran.

Our room wasn’t far from the elevators. I had to turn left and then left again; then it was a straight shot down a hall with an emergency exit at the end.

I was halfway down the hall when I heard a door slam, followed by a gunshot.

“No!” I screamed, and froze in my tracks.

Gio caught up and passed me. He shoved by and headed toward our door with a gun, which he’d apparently had the whole time, drawn at his hip. He paused to listen and held a finger to his lips as I caught up on trembling legs. My heart was in my throat and my eyes swimming with tears again.

There was nothing but silence on the other side.

Gio got out his keycard and reached for the handle right as the door flew open.

Anthony came tumbling out into the hall, gasping and swearing. He crashed into Gio and tripped before Gio caught him and set him on his feet.

“Anthony!” I cried, and lunged for him.

He was struggling to breathe. Maybe he’d been punched in the gut? But I didn’t see any gaping gunshot wounds.

“Are you okay?! What happened?” I gripped his arms and saw he had a gun in his hand.

“He took Portia!” he gasped on a pained breath. “Connor. Is. Here. The FBI agent is—” He cut off with another gasp and doubled over, pointing behind him back into the room. “Setup.”

I quickly pieced together his broken sentence and looked through the open door. Someone in a suit writhed on the floor, gripping his right leg. The agent had shown up after all.

I hunched over to meet Anthony’s eyes. He was still gasping and holding his side in pain. “Did you shoot someone in the leg again?”

He nodded, his eyes alight with understanding. “And he . . .” he trailed off with a wince. “Ribs.”

It all made sense. “And he hit you in the ribs, and now you can’t breathe?”

“Yes,” he forced out with another wince. “And Portia. Gone. ”

I glanced over my shoulder to look for them and make sure we weren’t drawing attention. Hopefully, no one else heard the gunshot. No doors flew open, so I assumed we were in the clear.

“Where’d he take her?” Gio asked. “We just came from the elevators, and there was no one else there.”

Anthony stood and fought for a full breath. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain, but pushed through it. “They just left, so if they weren’t at the elevators, then . . .” He looked over at the emergency exit. “They took the stairs.”

The implication hadn’t fully settled over me before he was twisting out of my grip and shoving his gun into his waistband. He met Gio’s gaze for a silent conversation.

“Go, man,” Gio said. “I’ll take care of this asshole.” He nodded at the man still on the floor losing blood.

“Thank you,” Anthony said, and started for the stairwell.

“Wait, are you serious?! ” I blurted, hurrying to keep up. “Anthony, we’re twenty floors up, and you can hardly walk!”

“We’ll lose them otherwise!” he called over his shoulder.

Of course it would end with a staircase. Of course it would . Because climbing walls and running through the woods wasn’t enough. And I, of course, wasn’t going to let him go alone. Not after all we’d been through, and not when he looked minutes from collapsing.

I grumbled and followed after him.

“What are you doing?” he said, picking up his pace to a trot now. “Stay here with Gio.”

“Are you kidding me? You don’t get to play Rambo without supervision in your condition.”

“Penny, go back!”

“Shut up, Anthony! I’m coming with you!”

He cast a scowl over his shoulder when he reached the door to the stairwell and pushed it open.

“Professor!” I heard Gio shout from behind me.

I turned to see him partway down the hall. He held up his gun, indicating he was going to toss it to me; and then to my horror, he tossed it to me. “Just in case!”

I caught it with a zing of terror. I considered dropping it and running away. Just booking it to the elevators and finding a flight home or maybe to someplace warm, tropical, and very far away—but as soon as I had the thought, I knew I wouldn’t do it. No. I’d grown too attached to this ragtag group, and putting an end to this mess was the only way to get my life back.

So, convincing myself I possessed even an ounce of the courage they all had, I shoved the gun into my waistband and followed my no-longer-fake boyfriend as he chased a madman into the stairwell.