“Stop! I'm here.” Tila raced past the open seating of the office to the sounds of Yasmi in pain, and rounded the corner to the reception area and the conference room.

The two bodies lying near the lift made her stumble to a stop.

She stared at the two security officers in horror, and then movement to her left made her turn. She saw her own shock mirrored in those of the two men at the conference room door.

She blinked.

Why were they horrified?

The sound of Yasmi receiving another blow forced her toward them. “Stop! I'm here.”

The door to the conference room was open, and the two men, each armed with a laz, stood in the doorway, one outside and to the right, the other inside and to the left.

The one inside turned and made a movement with his hand, and the sound of fists on flesh ceased.

They watched her approach, neither making any move to grab her or touch her in any way.

She'd been expecting some violence, some jostling, but they moved aside, gazes tracking her every move in silence, and let her walk into the room on her own.

She felt the weight of their gaze, and flashed back to her youth, when she often felt eyes on her wherever she went.

It had taken a long time to shake the constant sense of being stared at.

It affected her choice of exercise clothing--everything she wore, in fact--although in the case of work, instead of wearing baggy clothes to hide in, she made sure she knew what was appropriate so as not to stand out.

It was as if these men remembered the Halatian Incident like it was yesterday, and the weight of their emotion sat as heavily on her as it did on them.

She glanced back at them, and then away when she saw they were still staring, forcing herself to concentrate on her colleagues instead.

Everyone was there, three lying against the back wall, obviously injured, with a few other colleagues crouched beside them. The rest of were sitting on the floor, all crowded together, faces turned her way.

Yasmi was sitting on one of the conference room chairs, her lip bleeding, both eyes already swollen, her dark skin mottled and bruised.

“I should have kept my mouth shut,” Yasmi said, slurring her words a little as she tried to talk around her split lip, and Tila saw her teeth were coated in blood. “I thought you were lying injured somewhere and needed help.”

“This isn't your fault, Yasmi,” Tila said. She looked over at the man who'd been hitting her tall, curvaceous boss, her eyes narrow.

The man was staring at her the same way the other two had, and Tila forced herself to ignore him. She walked to Yasmi and offered her hand to help her up.

After a moment's hesitation, Yasmi took it, and then Tila helped her to the back of the room to sit with the other injured.

Tila did a slow turn as Yasmi sank down, hoping the cameras were picking up every angle for Nick and his team.

The three hostage-takers were standing together now, talking in low voices. Their gazes were still on her. The one who'd done the countdown, the obvious leader of the group, seemed to be dressing the other two down.

Perhaps for not finding her? She was afraid to stare at them too long and attract even more attention, so she turned to her friends and colleagues, huddled together, and sat among them.

“Where were you hiding?” Ahn whispered, eyes avid with curiosity.

She shook her head, not answering. The team may well have retreated back there to study the footage she was supplying and make their plans.

Rescue was coming. She knew that for a fact, and she would be ready when it came.

* * *

Dun flicked his gaze between the Halatian woman and his comm screen. His hand trembled a little.

He couldn't contact Jirmain. The Protection Unit would have decryption tech, and he couldn't risk them tracking where the comm was going, or what was said.

So he would have to make the decisions himself, put himself in Jirmain's head and pick a plan.

The problem was, Jirmain was not . . . he was going to say sane, but that wasn't it. Jirmain was sane enough, but he was unpredictable. He could find something funny one day that would send him into a rage the next.

You never knew which way he was going to jump.

Dun had come to understand he did it on purpose, and he couldn't really fault the logic. Jirmain was at the top of the pile because of it.

Dun also knew full well that if he didn't get himself and the team out soon, Jirmain would find a way to make sure they never got out at all.

The clock was ticking.

He was almost surprised the building hadn't collapsed around them already.

Just a few months ago, Jirmain had destroyed an entire complex of ancient ruins on the tiny moon of Cepi, along with a priceless piece of tech, just to shield any trail to himself, and he hadn't cared how many people died while he did it.

That had been the turning point for Dun.

He'd watched the ruins collapse, standing on the control deck of their slick new ship, and known that he had better never be in Jirmain's way, because his boss would think nothing of riding right through him.

He also knew if he left the Halatian woman here and Jirmain found out about it, he might as well tip back his throat and hand Jirmain his laz, because he would not be forgiven.

“Do you think the boss knew?” Kirt asked softly. “About her?” His head jerked toward Tila.

Dun shook his head. “He wouldn't have chosen this target if he'd known. Or he'd have had us grab her first.”

“What do we do?” Timbo shuffled nervously.

“We use the plan we were going to use on Cepi,” Dun said, feeling his way through the idea.

“That didn't work out so well.” Kirt cleared his throat.

“No, but the circumstances were a little different. We have a Halatian, and no one is going to want her hurt. Taking one hostage is simpler, and such a high-value one is perfect.”

“So, we walk out with her?” Timbo frowned. “How?”

“I'm thinking,” Dun said. And he knew he better think fast. Jirmain would be coming for him, just as much as the Protection Unit of Var.