NINETEEN
The elevator rumbled into motion and I glanced at Tristan.
He looked cool and collected. Bored almost. Meanwhile, I was sweating in spite of the air conditioning.
Of the two of us, I had to think mine was the more rational reaction.
We were about to step out into the middle of God only knew what. We could possibly be interrupting a majorly illegal art deal.
I realized that didn’t sound quite as ominous as interrupting a major drug deal but I figured it could be dangerous nonetheless. We were talking high dollar stolen goods here. Some pieces went for millions of dollars at auction. I could only imagine a thief wouldn’t be happy to be interrupted.
I missed having Zane in my ear to calm me down. Even him calling me Rosebud would have helped at the moment.
Instead, the only person I had to lean on was mister cool here and he didn’t look like the coddling type.
All too soon the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened.
I reached my hand into my pocket where I’d stashed Alex’s gun. I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea to whip it out and threaten the possible art thieves with it, but it made me feel better knowing it was an option should it become necessary.
I struggled to get the gun out of my pocket, which was cut way too small for this. I wondered if Tristan had his suits custom made specifically to accommodate his weapons. I probably should have been paying more attention to not shooting myself in the foot instead as I struggled to get the weapon free.
Next to me Tristan stiffened and my focus whipped to him.
“What?” I asked, as softly as I could in spite of my panic.
He mouthed for me to shush and then I saw his weapon was out.
Jesus. What was happening? I didn’t know but I needed to be prepared for it. If I could only get the damn gun out—
“About time you two got here.” Alex’s voice drew my attention away from the struggle in my pocket.
“Fancy seeing you here.” Tristan visibly relaxed and took a step out of the elevator car.
“Viktoria is in the storage room at the end of the hall,” Alex informed Tristan with barely a glance in my direction.
Yup, the honeymoon was over. She wasn’t even pretending to care what I thought anymore.
No more honey pot for me. I sucked it up and focused on the situation. There’d be time for wallowing and anger later.
“How did you know she was here?” I asked Alex.
“The guard got a call on his radio while I was with him. One of the other guys telling him a major donor and her guest were getting a private tour from the curator of the collection not on view.”
“We believe that?” I asked Tristan. I’d love for him to say everything was fine and we could go back to the party and get a drink.
“I guess we’ll find out,” he said.
My eyes widened at the implications of that. “What are we going to do? Confront her?”
“I am. You’re not.” Tristan shot me a look.
“What do you mean?” I sure as hell didn’t want to go into that storeroom but I didn’t want to be left behind either.
“You’re staying here,” Tristan informed me.
“I think I should go in. Alone,” Alex said.
“Thanks, love, but I don’t think so.”
I was happy to see Tristan didn’t trust her either. At least we were on the same page as far as that went.
Alex scowled. “Fine. We go in together.”
Tristan hesitated, looking as if he was considering Alex’s suggestion. He finally nodded. “All right. We go in pretending to be a drunk couple who snuck away from the party looking for a place to get amorous.”
She nodded as I frowned, not sure I liked that plan. But it was too late. With barely a backward glance, they were gone, leaving me behind as they moved down the hall toward the storage room.
If I were honest with myself, I’d admit I was pouting not only about being left behind, but also about the fact the smooth Brit was about to get handsy with the woman I’d considered my girl for a couple of glorious, delusional days.
Even if it was a lie on her part, it hadn’t been on mine and I really didn’t like the idea of him touching her. Kissing her. Even pretending to be with her.
I jumped as the sound of the elevator moving broke into my self pity.
I tried to calm myself by reviewing the many reasons why that elevator was in use. There was still a party happening on the fifth floor. Guests arriving late, other guests leaving early. Any number of them could have called for the elevator rather than take the escalator up and down all those flights.
It was a perfectly reasonable explanation . . . until I watched the numbers above the elevator change, creeping closer and closer to the floor I was standing on, and then stop.
Holy shit.
Those doors were going to open and I was standing right there in front of them in full view of whoever was inside.
Maybe the guard had come to check on Viktoria.
It didn’t matter who it was, I didn’t want to be seen here where I didn’t belong. I didn’t trust myself to be able to pull off a ruse like Tristan and Alex were—pretending to be drunk and lost or whatever. It was safer to just stay out of sight.
Luckily for me this floor, like the other one we’d been on, wasn’t lacking in doorways.
I spun and held my breath while I turned the doorknob, hoping it wasn’t locked.
It opened and I slipped into the darkened office, leaving the door open just a crack so I could peer out.
I didn’t have to see the two men to be concerned because I heard them speaking to one another—and they were speaking in Russian. But what I did see from my hiding spot had my breath catching in my throat.
The pair of men had guns and they were already out.
I fumbled with my cell and punched in a text to Zane in all caps.
WARN TRISTAN! 2 ARMED RUSSIANS HEADING HIS WAY.
I cursed Alex one more time for taking my best means of communication with Zane from me when she smashed my comm, but at least I still had the cell . . . and I had her gun.
My eyes widened when I remembered that.
Should I follow the men? It was two against one but I did have the element of surprise on my side. Although they would too if Zane hadn’t gotten the text and warned Tristan.
I glanced at the cell and saw no reply. That could be because he was busy talking to Tristan. Or it could be because he hadn’t checked his phone.
I had to follow up.
DO YOU COPY?!
Thank God for autocorrect—that was a sentence I never thought I’d ever say or even think. But with the adrenaline making my hands shake, I butchered the text and somehow the program fixed it for me and correctly—proof miracles did happen.
Zane’s reply lit up my screen sending a glow throughout the dark room.
Copy
I blew out a breath. At least he’d get word to Tristan and Alex, but would it be in time? How long was this hallway anyway? How far away was the storage room?
I didn’t know the answer.
Leaning into the hall I strained to hear any sound. If I heard gunshots I was going in. It didn’t matter if I didn’t know Viktoria, barely knew Tristan and didn’t trust Alex, I couldn’t leave them alone and not try to help if the shit hit the fan.
The museum guards wouldn’t even know if anything happened because Tristan had looped the monitors for this wing. I supposed I could call for the guards. Or even 9-1-1.
Explaining the situation to the cops would be interesting but we could deal with that issue later—once we were all safe and alive.
A loud noise from down the hall made me jump. What was it?
It was too far away to tell. Had it been a gunshot or something else?
Shaking harder than before I typed in a text to Zane.
I HEARD SOMETHING! GUNSHOT?
It felt like an eternity until his reply came back, although I’m sure it was mere seconds.
Stay put.
Stay put. Easy for him to say.
My mind raced. One noise. Possibly one gunshot. There were two unidentified armed Russian men, three people total in that clandestine meeting of Viktoria’s, and then Tristan and Alex.
So the question remained, if that had been a gunshot, from whose gun did it originate and, more importantly, who had been the target?