Page 4 of Extracted

Sex with Dallas was always an out-of-this-world experience. The fact that she’d gotten to be with him one more time was nothing less than a miracle. A gift from God before a possibly excruciating exit from this world.

Tears stung her eyes.

Dallas’s movement behind her jostled her shoulders. “Here.” He thrust material at her—some kind of handkerchief. “One good thing about it being hot as hell here is I need to carry something to mop up my sweat.”

She quickly cleaned herself with the cloth and handed it back to him. Turning and rising to her toes, she caught his jaw in her hand. “I have to get back. Do what you promised and go. Now.”

His jaw clenched.

“I mean it, Dallas. Out the front door and don’t come back until tonight.”

A shadow crossed his face, reminding her of the dangerous man he was. The same shadow that told her no matter how attentive he was in bed, no matter how addicted he was to screwing her, he wasn’t someone to cross. “I can leave for an hour. Two tops.”

He balled the material in his hand and his mouth worked back and forth as if he had a shitload to say. Too bad. She didn’t have time.

Her little roll in the closet dust might have cost her more than just her life.

“Fine.” She straightened her dress, opened the door, and slipped out. Her heels clacked on the marble floor with a sense of finality.

Maybe this time she’d actually be able to walk away from him for good.

CHAPTER 2

Damn, damn, damn.

She’d missed her call with Charlene. Which meant shit could go south if she didn’t get in touch with her ASAP. Gemma climbed the marble steps to the second floor as anxiety inched its way up her spine. She needed to get her encrypted phone from its hiding place.

She’d been given strict instructions to keep the device hidden and take it out only at their scheduled call times.

The scent of fresh linen hit her nostrils as she moved swiftly down the hallway’s cream-colored Oriental runner. The carpet muffled the sound of her high heels. She stopped at the large white door marked 218 and pulled her key card from her clutch. She flashed it in front of the door’s scanner and the lock released.

After entering the room she’d spent the last two nights in, she secured the deadbolt behind her. She flipped her wrist and read the time: 6:18 p.m. Twelve minutes. She scurried to the bathroom, lifted the lid on the tank of the toilet, and fished inside. Pulling out the plastic bag, she snapped open the zipper seal and then took out her encrypted phone. She returned the lid to the toilet, tossed the plastic bag in the wastebasket, and held up the phone.

Missed call.

Her stomach revolted. She tapped the unmarked number and pressed the device to her ear.

“You’re late.” The female voice came out clipped.

“I know. I—”

“Where’s the target?”

Gemma walked into the bedroom, grabbed her handbag from where she’d left it on the bed earlier, and stuffed her normal cell phone and charger inside with her passport—or rather Tara Turnbell’s passport. “I’m leaving my room now. I’ll verify in about thirty seconds.”

Charlene huffed. “You were supposed to do that first. Put your earpiece in. You’ll look less suspicious if you’re not snooping around with a phone.”

Gemma stifled a grunt. After this, she was done. The agency had taken up enough of her time and life. Now that they finally had their target, she’d be of no use to them. She dug into her purse and took out the compact-looking thingy. Cracking it open, she pulled out the bud and then stuck it in her ear. “All set.”

“Test,” Charlene said through the earpiece.

“It’s working.”

“Good. You’ve got a few minutes to get eyes on Silas and get out of the building.” Charlene’s businesslike tone removed some of the tension from her shoulders.

She had every reason to be cautious when it came to trusting these people, but for now, Charlene needed her, so she wouldn’t let her be harmed.

Dropping her burner phone inside her purse, Gemma slung the bag over her shoulder and surveyed the room one last time. In other situations, she’d wipe the surfaces clear of her prints, but she didn’t have time. Once Charlene’s sniper took out Silas, things would get messy quickly. The authorities would be all over this place, and the last thing she needed was to end up in a Colombian prison. Her employer might have the ability to get her out, but she didn’t believe for one minute that they wouldn’t leave her there to rot.

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