She unzipped her coat and Muffin’s pup pack when they reached the shed and eased her little angel onto the scraped pavement so she could do her business. Muffy whined in distress as soon as her paws touched the icy ground, but squatted immediately, peed, and danced back over to paw at Eloise’s calves. Within seconds, her baby was zipped back in her pup pack.
Their guard opened the wood door and found the light switch against the wall. Bright, white light flooded the building. She followed him inside, only to stop short just inside the doorway. A snowmobile sat directly in front of a large roll-up door. The machine was fluorescent green—which would stand out like a flame in the night. But it looked like it was built for speed. It rose high and blocky in the front, low and sleek through the rear. For the first time, she offered thanks for Grigory’s penchant for fast toys. Snowmobiles had been a favorite of his. The newer and faster, the better.
The sheer luck of the find took her breath away. The machine sat right in front of a roll-up door at the very back of the building. She’d asked the universe for help, and good God, had the universe come through for her. The soldiers out front wouldn’t see her exit the building.
If the snowmobile didn’t have the keys in the ignition, she’d hotwire it. One of her first jobs as a child had been stealing utes for a chop shop in the bowels of Sydney. She scanned the area as they headed toward the back left corner of the building. Long, narrow benches ran along both sides of the building. The middle was open. A patchwork of oily stains sprawled across the cement. The smell of oil and petrol tickled her nose.
Her gaze fell on a short-handled axe lying on the right work bench. That would make an excellent weapon. The blade looked razor sharp, and it was short enough to tuck in front of her on the snowmobile. She shot a quick glance at the machine as they approached the back of the building and a door marked bathroom.
The keys were in the ignition.
A gloating smile partially engulfed her face before she banished it. Sometimes the universe was incredibly generous. She’d give extra thanks for this unexpected gift in her daily gratitudes.
The soldier escorting her opened the bathroom door, then turned, parking his shoulders and back against the wall. The bathroom was surprisingly clean and well-stocked. She pulled the door closed behind her, locked it, and took a deep, calming breath, only to choke on the noxious smell of bleach and air freshener. A fit of coughing overwhelmed her. A few seconds later, a sturdy knock hit the door.
“You okay in there?” her escort asked.
“Fine.” She choked the reassurance out through her spasming throat and watering eyes. She didn’t want him barging in to check on her, so she added an explanation. “Someone went a little aggro with the bleach and air freshener in here. Makes it hard to breathe is all.”
A grunt of acknowledgement came through the door.
Eloise forced the coughing back. Before getting to work, she dropped her sweatpants and used the toilet. Who knew how long it would be before she found another clean, well-stocked loo. As soon as she was finished, she flushed the toilet and zipped the pup pack up until Muffy was completely enclosed inside. Then she zipped her coat up to her chin for an extra layer of protection. Best to keep multiple layers of fabric between Muffin and the syringe when it popped out.
She turned the faucet on to cover any suspicious sounds as she converted the tube in her pocket from lipstick to syringe. The false front was easy to pry loose. She heard nothing as the insert popped out, so her guard wouldn’t either. She pressed the button at the bottom of the tube to pop the syringe up. Gingerly, she slid the cylinder between her index and middle finger, until the tube was hidden by her palm and the needle was sticking out between her fingers. She couldn’t afford to prick herself. That would be a lethal mistake.
With a deep breath, she turned the faucet off and reached for the door handle. Her guard turned to her as the door swung open.
Not yet. Not while he’s watching and can deflect the syringe.
“All good?” he asked, the question polite rather than interested. His gaze dropped to her throat and the zipped-up coat.
“Much better.” She sent him a sunny smile. “Muffy was cold, so I tucked her in nice and tight,” she embellished when his gaze lingered on her coat.
She slowed as they headed back across the building so she could jab him from behind. But her guard glanced over his shoulder and frowned, his pace slowing to match hers. Fuck, she needed a distraction.
“Oh, hell no! What’s that?” She stopped walking and pointed at random with her non-syringe fingers and tried for a horrified expression. A muffled bark came from beneath her coat as Muffin went into guard dog mode.
As he turned to look where she was pointing, she plunged the needle into the back of his neck. The syringe was spring-loaded. It injected the poison instantly. She jerked the needle out and tossed the tube over her shoulder as his hand reached for the back of his neck.
“What the—” He spun toward her. His hand clamped over the injection site.
Created in a laboratory, this synthetic version of tetrodotoxin was fast-acting, with lightning-quick absorption rates. Paralysis occurred within minutes. Death in five. She didn’t need him dead, just incapable of calling for help. But there was still a minute or two before that would happen.
Until then—distract, distract, distract.
“Oh, fuck!” She swung around behind him and brushed frantically at his neck, trying to ignore her princess’s barking, which had become louder and shriller. “There’s a gigantic spider on your neck.” She brushed some more. “Uh oh. I think it went down the back of your shirt. It must have bitten you. The back of your neck is turning red and swelling. You better take off your shirt so we can get it out. Wouldn’t want it to bite you again.”
He tilted his head back and frowned at the ceiling. “Spiders aren’t active in the cold.”
Fuck, she’d hoped he wouldn’t realize that. His hand reached for the back of his neck again. His fingertips gently grazed the skin. “I don’t feel any swelling.”
“It’s very slight,” she said earnestly.
He studied her face intently, then scanned her from head to toe, obviously looking for something that would explain the pinch he’d felt, something that wasn’t spider-related. His eyes were narrow and full of suspicion when they rose back to meet hers.
She widened her eyes and strove for an innocent expression. “You really should remove your t-shirt, make sure that spider isn’t beneath it.”
“I’d feel it moving. There’s no spider under my shirt.” The suspicion deepened on his face. He reached for her arm. “Let’s go.” He froze, staring at his hand. His fingers were shaking. “What the hell?”