Vivienne’s face goes pale, and the easy laughter tumbling out of my mouth turns into a silence.

“I’m not going to let this happen.”

The voice behind me is totally unfamiliar. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before in my life. I’m torn between a desperate need to see who the hell this is, and what the hell they’re talking about, and the need to stay looking at Vivienne.

She presses her lips into a thin line, then reaches slowly for my arm, pressing her hand against my elbow so that I turn. “Slowly,” she whispers. “Slowly.”

I turn around, and my heart jumps.

Security hasn’t been a big issue at Wilder Enterprises. Many of the firms who rent space from us hire their own security, and I have a team stationed outside the building, but I’ve never been one for a militaristic presence in the front lobby. The regular team that assigns visitor badges has always done a fine job, but with a plummeting sensation I realize, too late, that I should have done something once O’Connor clued me in on the investigation. I should have been able to foresee this kind of situation—

My thoughts go silent when Vivienne’s voice breaks in.

“What are you talking about, Mark?” Her tone is even, casual, with a hint of confusion. “You should put down the gun.”

“I’m not putting down the gun.” Mark speaks the words through a clenched jaw. His sandy hair looks like he’s been running his hands through it, and his shirt is soaked with sweat. “And you know what I’m talking about. You know perfectly well what I’m talking about.”

“I really don’t, Mark.” Vivienne is slowly shifting her weight, moving ever so slightly toward me, in front of me, and I resist the urge to throw my arm out to stop her. I am not going to let her take a bullet for me, FBI or not.

“You’ve been after me. You came to my office, and you did something to my computer, and it’s over, okay? You’re not doing that anymore.” His eyes are wide, the color almost swallowed up by the whites of his eyes, and he glances between me and Vivienne like it’s a tic he can’t control. “I can’t let you do this.”

Vivienne raises her hands in the air. “I’m not doing anything. I’m having a conversation with my boss.”

“I don’t care if he’s your boss. I don’t care who you’re working for, the Feds, or—” He swallows hard. “I don’t care. This ends now.”

“I don’t understand.” Vivienne lowers her arms, spreading her hands in what seems like a plea for explanation. “What are you hoping to gain from shooting us?”

She’s moving again, almost like she’s become frightened, slipping her hand behind me but keeping her back straight. There’s the softest sound of plastic brushing plastic, like she’s lifting the handset off the phone, and her fingers whisper over the keypad.

“What are you doing?” Mark’s voice is loud, rough, and Vivienne flinches like she’s been hit, jumping back into her place.

“I want to know why you’re planning to shoot us, Mark. Or is that not your plan? Are you planning to do something else?” She raises her shoulders, drops them down. “Look, if you’re looking for a conversation, we can sit down and talk. Put down the gun.”

The gun shakes in his hands, the barrel bobbing up and down. “It’s too late for that.”

“It’s never too late to talk. You can start talking right now, if that’s what you came here for.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” He shouts the words, almost spits them, at Vivienne. “I didn’t have a choice, okay?” Then his mouth twitches into a grimace. “Why couldn’t you stay out of it? I know you did something to my computer. I know you’ve been after me.”

I can’t stay silent anymore. “Mark, I own this company, and I can assure you that I never sent anyone to—”

“Shut your mouth.” The barrel of the gun swings toward me, and I can feel every thudding heartbeat in my throat. I don’t have a trick to pull with the phone, and I sent everyone home. I sent everyone home. “I’ve seen her in my office twice now, trying to screw with my computer.”

“If you haven’t done anything,” Vivienne cuts in, “then what are you worried about?” Her tone is as level as always. “Mark, I think something else is going on here. I think maybe you’re in over your head with a situation you don’t feel you can talk about, and you’re making rash decisions.”

“A situation—” Mark laughs bitterly. “You don’t know what it takes to—you have no idea how expensive—”

“Tell us, Mark,” Vivienne says, and the concern sounds genuine. “Whatever it is, you can tell us. Look, I think I know what you’ve been doing. But don’t make it worse, okay? Don’t take it this far. We can talk this out. We can find a way to—”

“No!” Mark screams the word, his voice choked with rage and desperation, and right then, he breaks.

Time comes to a halt, and I watch the barrel of his gun bob, then swing back toward Vivienne. He’s hesitating, but he’s going to do something, his finger tense around the trigger, and I see it happen when he takes the first shot.

I throw my arm out to push Vivienne to the floor, to get her out of the way—I don’t care if this man, this deranged man, kills me, but Vivienne, no I can’t let her—but she’s not there. She’s rushing forward, putting herself between me and Mark, and the bullet doesn’t come. The bullet doesn’t come because it hits her in the side.

And she keeps going.

She keeps going, even when the bullet rocks her backward, she keeps rushing forward and she gets there, her hand coming down hard on his wrist. He lets go of it with a cry of pain, and then it’s in her hands.

“Jeffries, get them in here!” She shouts it at the top of her lungs while she turns the gun in her hands and levels it at Mark. “Don’t move, Mark. Don’t move at all. Put your hands up.”

“Vivienne—”

“Dominic, stay where you are—”

I don’t know who she’s shouting at, but the next moment, there are five agents bursting out of the stairwell and from the elevator, racing down the hall, and they converge on Mark, pinning him.

Vivienne kneels down, hand on her side, and puts the gun gently on the carpet, and then she tumbles to her side.

I get there in time to cushion the blow.