TWO AGENTS were interrogating me—or trying to. They were playing good cop, bad cop while I stared at them, silent and impassive. In another few hours, it would all be over. A shot would be fired from a rifle and they’d put me in jail for a murder I had nothing to do with...but at least Hailey would be spared. She’d be able to continue at the FBI, a good person doing good work.

I didn’t hate her. I’d tried to but I couldn’t. She’d done what she thought was right and I could see how much it had hurt her.

At that moment, the door flew open. Hailey?! Even in her shapeless gray suit, she was so beautiful it hurt. She had a man with her, a big guy with stubble who looked like he’d slept at his desk. “Change of plan,” she announced to the two agents. “We’re taking the prisoner upstairs. Going to question him somewhere more civilized.”

“What?” Both agents stood up and the one who’d been playing bad cop got in her face. “That isn’t procedure! Does Carrie know about—”?

“It was her idea,” said Hailey coolly. “If you want to argue with her….”

The good cop agent backed down, but the bad cop one squared his shoulders. “I will,” he muttered. He marched out and the other agent hurried after him.

Hailey ran over to me. “Get up,” she told me. “We’re getting you out of here.”

I stood, blinking at her. It was only when the stubbled guy produced a handcuff key and my chains fell to the floor that I realized what was happening. Then I grabbed Hailey, lifted her into the air, and crushed her against my chest. “Golub,” I breathed.

“I’m sorry!” she said into my chest. “I’m sorry, I was wrong—”

“Sweet,” interrupted the stubbled guy, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But we’ve got about three minutes until those guys get up to our boss’s office and discover they’ve been played. So unless you want us all to spend the rest of our lives in jail, move!”

I saw the anger in his eyes. He hates me. So why is he helping? Then I saw his gaze drop to my hands, where they stroked Hailey’s back. He glared at them as if he was trying to burn them off.

That’s why he was helping her. And that’s why he hated me. I felt jealousy stirring in my own chest, hot and possessive.

Hailey pushed back from me a little and saw what was going on. “Two minutes,” she said, her cheeks flushing red.

The guy gave me a curt nod and I nodded back. Later.

We ran. Out into the hallway. Up the stairs to the first floor. We slowed as we reached the crowded lobby: the alarm might be raised at any second, but if we walked too fast, it would arouse suspicion. I could glimpse daylight and freedom through the glass doors of the building, only thirty feet away.

“Isn’t that—Wait, is that Konstantin?!” a guard asked as we passed.

“Yep. Lawyers got him off on a technicality. Go figure,” Hailey told him, not slowing her pace. We were twenty feet from the doors. Fifteen—

A klaxon started to blare. All around us, the guards’ radios came to life. I heard lockdown and Konstantin and Hailey Akers and Agent Calahan

“Run!” yelled the stubbled guy and we sprinted for the doors. A guard charged in front of us, drawing his gun, but I shouldered him out of the way and we burst out into the open air. A shabby-looking car was parked right outside the doors and we dived in, Hailey and me in the back and the stubbled guy—Agent Calahan, I presumed—behind the wheel. We were thrown back in our seats as he stamped on the gas and then the FBI building was shrinking in the rear view mirror.

“They’ll be looking for my car,” Calahan muttered to us over his shoulder. He didn’t try to hide the anger in his voice. “Hold on. I’ve got to switch it.”

He took the next corner without slowing down, then another and another, until our stomachs were churning and we were deep in a maze of narrow streets. He finally pulled into the open doorway of a garage and screeched to a stop. “Wait here,” he snapped, and got out.

Hailey and I looked around. To our left, two guys were stripping a BMW of all its valuable parts. To our right, a man was grinding the identification numbers off a Mercedes while another guy fitted fake license plates. A chop shop. And Calahan seemed to know the men and know how to deal with them. First it was fist-bumps and hugs, then he pulled out his wallet and finally, when they still seemed reluctant to help, he shrugged and spread his arms wide. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I could guess. Wouldn’t it be awful if the FBI got a tip-off about this place….

I started to warm to the man.

In less than five minutes, we were driving out in a fresh car: a piece of junk compared to what I was used to, but no one was looking for it and that made it more valuable than any limo. “You planned that well,” I allowed.

Calahan didn’t turn around, but he glanced at me in the rear view mirror. “Not my first time breaking the rules.”

When a few miles had gone by without any sign of pursuit, he pulled over and sat back with a sigh. “There. We’re clear.” He twisted around in his seat and scowled at me. “Now you better hope you can fix this thing—”—he glanced at Hailey—”for her sake.”

I nodded. I understood what they’d both done for me. They were fugitives, now. And if the assassination happened, they’d be going to jail. We had to stop it, and clear my name.

But there was something I had to do first. Something I couldn’t wait any longer for.

I grabbed Hailey by the waist and dragged her across the seat and into my lap. I pushed her hair back from her face, my fingers tangling in the soft strands, and kissed her.