The sound of the gunshot rang like a clarion call through Jace’s head.

“The office building’s been compromised. I’m going in!” he said into the walkie-talkie as he approached the far wall of the building. There’d been a loud crash from inside and now his muscles were shaking from adrenaline and anger. How could he have been so fucking stupid? He should’ve expected Quinn to pull some shit like this. Should’ve insisted on staying with Felicity whether she wanted his help or not.

Should’ve, would’ve could’ve.

Too little, too late.

“Stand down, soldier. I’m on my way,” Mark growled through the radio. “Wait for my signal.”

“Felicity’s in there with Quinn. I just heard a ruckus. I need to help her. Now!” With his stress levels this high, he could only contain his rage for so long. Each second ticked by like a century until Felicity’s name clogged his throat and it took all his willpower not to scream out her name at the top of his lungs.

Nostrils flaring, he ducked down and tried to peer through the window closest to him without being seen. But all he could see through the oddly dusty window was what looked like a warzone—crap hanging down from the busted ceiling and pieces of drywall and broken lumber everywhere. Exhaling slow, he leaned back against the side of the building again and closed his eyes. No matter how hard he tried, the only thing he could picture was the furious look on Felicity’s face as he’d charged out of the office on his own. Goddamn it. What he wouldn’t give to go back and do that over again. If he lived to be a hundred, he doubted the guilt oozing through him like toxic sludge would ever go away. Nor would the nausea that had grown and rotted inside his stomach on the long run back to the office.

Finally, what seemed eons later though it couldn’t have been more than two minutes tops, Mark’s voice echoed over the walkie-talkie again. “I’m on the east side of the building. You’re sure Quinn’s in there with her?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Jace quickly filled his former team leader in on his Quinn-hiding-in-the-attic theory. “From what I could see through the window, the office is a disaster.”

“Shit,” Mark said. “Are you able to spot Felicity or Quinn inside?”

“Negative.” The distinct lack of available options closed in around Jace like prison walls. “She’s in there. She needs me. I’m going in.”

“Fuck. I’m coming around to your position. Hang tight.” Mark was by his side moments later, armed to the teeth and looking pissed as hell. “Okay. This is how we’re going to do this. We can't go in there all gung-ho. Quinn might be psycho as hell, but he’s not stupid. It could be a trap to lure us in.”

While concentrating on Mark’s plan, Jace did a double check of his weapons and ammo. Still had the stun grenade. In his head, he went through the checklists of close-quarters contact. The grenade would knock everyone in the office out cold for five seconds flat. Felicity would be woozy for a while, possibly blind for a few minutes, but hopefully still alive.

It was a chance he was willing to take to save the woman he loved.

And to take out that bastard Kevin Quinn. He was so ready for contact with that asshole. Wanted it more than he wanted his next breath.

“You take the front door. I’ll make my way around the back and come in through the window in the bathroom,” Mark said, chambering a round in his gun. “And remember Felicity’s orders. Shoot to disarm, not to kill. We need this asshole alive. Got it?”

Jace nodded, though if he was honest, he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t put a bullet between Kevin Quinn’s eyes before this was all over.

“MSC, solider,” Mark said, their standard team command before a raid.

“MSC, sir.” Move, shoot, communicate. Jace gave a brisk nod then skirted around the corner toward the front entrance, praying that two out of those three things would be enough, praying that he wasn’t too late.

* * *

“Stop,” Felicity said, her plea directed at the man currently pressing her down so hard she had trouble breathing. Her mind raced with rules and regulations and things the Bureau had trained her to do in situations like this, but the truth was she was down one useful limb, her legs were only now starting to get some feeling back in them after Quinn’s heavy ass had moved off them, and she’d lost any chance of finding her weapon when not-so-good-old Kevin had shoved it well out of reach and into the nearby debris pile. Her only option now seemed to be cooperation, or at least making this asshole believe she’d help him. “Please. I’ll do what you want, okay? Just stop.”

Kevin leaned back, keeping one hand on her chest, near her injured arm to keep her from escaping. Each time she moved, he pressed harder, sending white-hot jolts of excruciating pain through her entire right side. His expression was angry and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. Perhaps their tussle was getting to him.

“You’ll arrange a flight for me to Argentina?” He wiped his forehead with his dirty sleeve then grabbed his water bottle again, taking a few gulps. Felicity’s own throat felt like it was on fire, but she’d sooner shrivel up like a raisin than beg this prick for a drink. He tossed the now empty bottle aside, the plastic crinkling as it bounced across the floor. Kevin took his knife again and pressed the tip into the pulse point at the base of her neck. “Don’t think about double crossing me, bitch, or I’ll cut you to shreds. Understand?”

She nodded.

Slowly, he got off her and stood, keeping the knife at her neck as he yanked her up from the floor by her injured arm then made another shallow cut across her forearm this time. More blood oozed. Felicity screamed, couldn’t help it this time, the sound reverberating off the silent walls like a tomb.

“Keep on screaming, sweetheart. I like the sound and no one’s going to rescue you in time anyway.”

Blinking back tears of agony, she stared at the window in front of her to stay conscious. Through the coating of haze left from the collapsed ceiling, she would’ve sworn she saw something flicker past—a shadow, a phantom—there, then gone. Of course, it could’ve been a trick of her mind. The pain had made her a bit loopy.

“Jace will figure out what’s happening. He’ll be back,” she said, her voice weaker than before, dulled from pain and her quickly fading hope. Chances were dwindling that anyone would find her before crazy Kevin stabbed her to death, including Jace. She’d never get to apologize for yelling at him, never get to see his handsome face, his warm brown eyes lit with desire for her.

“Shut up, bitch.” Kevin shook her hard and she felt more tearing in her shoulder. At this rate, she’d be lucky to retain full use of her arm, let alone a job with the Bureau. Good thing she’d been thinking about a career change anyway. “Now get out your phone.”

“What?”

“Take out your goddamned phone before I cut you again!” He held the blade to her cheek this time.

Felicity did as he asked, fumbling to pull the device out with her left hand. Exhaustion and fear made her clumsy and she dropped it on the floor.

“Pick it up,” Kevin said, shoving her down to her knees again.

“Here,” she said, doing as he asked then handing it to him.

“What the fuck is this?” He laughed. “Stay safe. How fucking pathetic is that?”

“Screw you.”

Kevin shook his head. “In your dreams. Now let me just scroll through your contacts, Felicity. And…yes. There we are. Director Richardson, FBI.” He punched in the call then handed the phone back to her. “Be nice, and no funny shit. You say one wrong word, and you’re dead, Agent Belasko.”

The knife jammed into the base of her throat again, making speech difficult. She swallowed hard. “He’s probably not there. It’s after eight p.m. in DC.”

“Well, bitch. You better pray he’s working late.”

One ring, two, three.

Nothing.

Quinn grabbed her hair and pulled her head back hard. “What the fuck is taking so long?”

“I don’t know! I told you he’s most likely gone for the day.” Her eyes watered from the tug on her scalp and fresh pain zinged from her right shoulder up her neck to her jaw. The voicemail clicked on and her chest squeezed tight with tension. “Do you want me to leave a message?”

“A message?” Kevin sneered. “Fuck no, I don’t want you to leave a fucking message. Ask to be transferred to someone else.”

“I can’t. No one’s there this late. I’m sorry.”

A scuffling noise sounded from outside and Kevin cursed, thrusting her away from him and sending her sprawling to the floor. He straightened and rushed to the nearby window, peering out before leaning back against the wall beside it. “Nothing. Must be an animal.”

Or Jace.

She needed to stall, to distract Quinn, needed to buy time for Jace to figure out what was happening and find a way to get her out. “My phone battery’s almost out of juice. If you want me to call someone else, you better make it fast.”

“Don’t rush me.” He pointed the knife at her, the blade shaking now in his hand. Kevin slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small silver vial. “I need to think. Clear my head.” He unscrewed the vial and tapped out a line of white powder on the top of his hand, then brought it to his nose and inhaled it with one snort. Well, that confirmed that theory. Yep. The guy was a coke head all right. Kevin licked the rest of the powder off his hand, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Ah, that’s better. Now, you. Call LAX and get me booked on the next flight to Buenos Aries.”

Felicity fumbled with her phone again, typing with her left hand awkward and slow. Eventually she managed to get enough correct letters into the search box of her browser that a list of results came up on the screen. Punching the number on the screen she held the phone to her ear and waited while yet another automated system picked up the call.

“And no coach shit either,” Kevin said, still smiling. Still crazy as fuck. “This is my farewell to the US. I want to go first class, baby.”

She’d love to tell this asshat exactly where to go and how to get there, but arguing with a nutball like Kevin Quinn would get her nowhere. So, she planned to let him think she was helping him until she could stop him. How she’d do that, she didn’t know, but she’d learned a long time ago to think on her feet and now she needed that skill more than ever. Instead of pushing the appropriate response for customer service, she ended the call and hit 9-1-1 instead.

“Agent Belasko? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I'm waiting for a human to answer.” She held her breath, praying he wouldn’t ask to see the phone.

“Hurry up.” Kevin started pacing around the debris, his face sweaty and flushed as the cocaine flooded his system. “This whole plan has already gone to shit. I need to get out of here.”

“9-1-1. Please state your emergency?” the operator said over the line.

She couldn’t ask for help, for fear Quinn would kill her on the spot. So, she pretended to talk to a ticketing agent instead. “Yes, I need to book a flight for this afternoon to Buenos Aries, please? First class, if you have it and I’ll need time to pack and get to the airport.”

Kevin halted, his scowl dark. “You're stalling.”

“I'm not!”

“I knew you’d fuck me over. It’s always the same with the government—”

“Shut up!” Felicity felt the last of her control unraveling along with her energy. “I'm having a hard enough time hitting the right buttons without you yelling and waving that knife at me!”

“Ma’am?” The dispatcher said over the line. “Is someone threatening you with a knife?”

“You goddamned bitch. You ruined everything for me. Everything!” He threw his hands in the air, the blade catching the dim light once more. “You couldn’t simply mind your own fucking business like a good little federal agent. No. You had to stick your damned nose in where it didn’t belong. These killings had nothing to do with you, Agent Belasko. Nothing!”

“Well, get over it,” she said, her voice cold.

“Stay on the line, ma’am,” the dispatcher said in Felicity’s ear. “We’re sending help.”

“I don't know,” Kevin said, moving in beside the window once more. “I don't think I can get over this, Agent Belasko. I don’t think I can this time.”

His level of paranoia had reached a whole new level now, if the way he was murmuring to himself and carrying on a conversation with his dead brother were any indication.

“I’m sorry, Ed. I did this all for you, you know. I wanted you to be proud of me, Ed. I wanted those bastards to pay for what they did to you. Pay for all those lies they told. And I’ll still make them pay, Ed. I promise I’ll make them pay if it’s the last thing I do.”

He walked over to her and held out his hand. “Give me the phone.”

Oh, shit.

She blinked up at him, unmoving.

“Give me the goddamned phone. I knew better than to have you help me. If you want something done, do it yourself.” He held the knife to the tip of her nose. “Give me that fucking phone right now, Agent, or I swear to fucking God I’ll cut your cute little nose right off your face.”

Slowly, Felicity held out the device to him, the screen brightly displaying the call to Ortega PD.

“What is this?” Kevin screamed, backhanding her hard across the face with the hilt of the knife. “You traitorous fucking bitch!”

Felicity tasted the copper tang of blood in her mouth as she crumpled to the floor again.

The sound of the phone shattering against the wall was followed by the sharp pain of Kevin pulling hard on her hair, pulling her head up as he placed the cold blade against the front of her throat. “Bye, bye bitch.”