Page 82 of Duplicity

Peter nodded, and they ran for the stairs.

THIRTY-ONE

The world around Cat was nothing but black. Pitch black so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.

All she could hear were the sounds of her own breaths and the distant echo of pounding footsteps.

She stretched out her good hand and took measured steps toward the wall she’d seen right before the door behind her had clicked shut. She would be able to find the door after she found the wall and traced it back to the corner. Right now, she needed something tangible to hold on to instead of all this blank nothingness. An absence of light.

Her fingers glanced off the wall, and she settled her palm on it, then leaned against it and tugged out her phone. No signal? Of course.

Of course.

The dull ache on the outside of her arm was enough to distract her and make her even more irritated by this whole thing. Why couldn’t she just have found Simon already?

Why did it have to be this difficult?

Cat stowed the phone in her back pocket and moved toward the door. She found the edge, then felt for the handle.

It wouldn’t budge.

She rattled the handle and pounded on the heavy door. How could she hear nothing from the other side? It had to be reinforced in some way, more than a normal fire door. What was this place?

She’d been working her way through the house with Romeo behind her, gun out. He’d followed every turn she’d made, and Cat had said nothing. If he wanted to be the one to watch her back, she wasn’t going to complain. Just as long as they retrieved Simon and stopped Lance North.

Romeo had been there, not two steps back.

She’d seen Lance at the end of the hall and ran as fast as she could toward him, her arm tucked against her side with the sling. Romeo had called out to her right as she eased up on the door and slid in with measured steps the way she’d been trained to. She’d run in here after Lance, and then the door had shut.

Her on one side, Romeo on the other.

Where had Lance gone?

She pulled as hard as she could on the handle, and nothing happened. If she couldn’t go that way, did she need to follow the direction Lance went to get out of here? She had no choice except to venture into the pitch black. It was that or sit around and wait for rescue.

Not when a bad guy was getting away.

Cat found the wall so she could lean her good arm on it. Not great since it restricted her movement. But better than crashing into a wall and being in so much pain she passed out.

She started toward the far end of the hallway. Tunnel. What was this place?

Cat hadn’t walked far before she spotted twin lights heading toward her. Headlights? She didn’t hear a car engine.

The vehicle sped toward her, and the brakes whined.

How many shots had she expended so far tonight? She had fired at least three. Why hadn’t she counted them?

She held the gun up while the car slowed in front of her.

The driver’s door opened, and Lance rushed out. She followed him with her gun hand, squeezing the trigger. Each flash from her muzzle lit the tunnel like a beacon. She turned the gun and pulled the trigger at point-blank range.

The gun clicked. No flash.

Lance raced toward her.

He slammed into her and Cat hit the ground. All the air expelled from her lungs. Why hadn’t he simply escaped? He’d come back for her? It made no sense.

But asking herself inane questions she had no answers to was better than thinking about the pain screaming through her.

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