Page 150 of Wilde and Deadly

But there was no opening, no weakness to exploit. The security was too tight, and the players were too powerful. She was outnumbered and outgunned.

As they approached the elevators, Rowan’s heart rose into her throat. Once those doors closed, she’d be trapped. Cut off from any hope of rescue.

From Davey.

The thought of him sent a fresh wave of panic through her. Was he looking for her? Did he even know she was gone?

Yes and yes.

She knew those answers with absolute certainty. He knew she was gone by now, and he would tear the city apart to find her.

The elevator dinged softly, and the doors slid open with a whisper. Inside, the walls were mirrored, reflecting her captors and their prize infinitely as the numbers ticked higher. She looked like hell. Bruised, dirty, blood-streaked.

How had every person in the lobby just… looked away?

The ride was smooth and silent. She watched the numbers climb and couldn’t help but feel like each passing floor brought her another second closer to death.

Time slipping. Options dwindling.

This was her last chance. If she was going to act, it had to be now.

The two men at her sides would be easy.

The one on her right stood stiff, tense. He was uncomfortable. Maybe he was the new guy, not yet jaded by the work.

The other was bulkier, but he was too comfortable. His stance was lazy. He didn’t see her as a threat.

She could take them.

Black Eyes was the problem.

She knew he was fast. She’d barely seen him move before he’d had a hand around her throat. And he was almost supernaturally strong. Down in the tunnel, she’d thrown everything she had at him, and he’d held her back like it was nothing.

But even he wasn’t immune to a bullet. If she got hold of one of the other guys’ weapons, she could take him, too.

She tensed, preparing to make her move?—

“I wouldn’t,” Black Eyes murmured, his voice low and cold. “You won’t like the consequences.”

Fuck.

She swallowed down her frustration and tried to keep her voice light. “Look at that. It does speak.”

“Only when necessary.”

She scoffed. “Go to hell, Terminator.”

Again, that spark flared in his gaze, and a twist of a smile touched his lips. She swore she heard him murmur, “Already there,” as the doors slid open on the 60th floor, revealing a corridor lined with dark wood paneling and soft, ambient lighting.

Another glitch.

Something she could exploit?

But as he shoved her out of the elevator car, that flicker of personality vanished. He was the black-eyed machine again.

He marched her to a set of huge double doors at the end of the hallway, removed his gloves, and pressed his thumb against a scanner. The doors unlocked with a muted click, and the other two men hung back as Black Eyes pushed her inside.

The penthouse was massive, filled with lush leather furniture, marble accents, and the kind of art that was more about price than appreciation. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched over the glittering city below.

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