Page 45 of Artifice
Just then, Olive heard a swishing sound behind her.
Before she could turn, a hand clamped over her mouth from behind, stifling her instinctive scream.
An arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her backward against a solid form.
She’d allowed herself to become too distracted by the scene inside. She hadn’t been as alert as she should have been.
“Don’t make a sound,” a voice whispered against her ear.
Then he dragged her away from the window.
CHAPTER 24
Olive twisted in the man’s grip, her training kicking in as she prepared to drive an elbow into his solar plexus.
But his next words froze her.
“There’s a guard with a gun making rounds every six minutes,” the man whispered. “And I don’t think either of us want to explain to those people why we’re spying on them. Understand?”
She remained frozen another second before nodding.
Slowly, the man released his hand from her mouth. He maintained a firm grip on her arm as he pulled her deeper into the shadows behind a rusted dumpster.
Olive turned, ready to fight.
Then she realized it was . . . Simon.
Her muscles loosened—but only slightly.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed, yanking her arm free.
In the faint light, his expression was grim. “I could ask you the same thing, Ms. Bettencourt—if that’s really your name.”
She ignored his statement. “You followed me.”
“Or maybe we’re following the same people.” His eyes flicked toward the warehouse. “You need to leave. Now. This isn’t what you think it is, and you’re not equipped to handle it.”
“And you are?” she challenged.
A distant beam of light swept across the gravel as a guard rounded the far corner of the building.
Simon pressed Olive deeper into the shadows. “We don’t have time for this. Either leave with me right now, or I’ll create a distraction you won’t like.”
Before she could respond, the side door creaked open. Principal Denarau’s voice carried across the darkness: “Check the perimeter again. I thought I heard something.”
Simon’s fingers tightened around her wrist. “Your choice, Liv.”
She gritted her teeth before muttering. “Fine.”
Simon pulled her toward the fence line just as the sweep of a flashlight beam cut through the darkness behind them.
Simon’s grip was iron around Olive’s wrist as he pulled her through the gap in the fence. The rusty metal caught her dress again, this time tearing a jagged line up the side.
She bit back some choice words, focusing instead on the flashlight beams cutting through the darkness behind them.
“My car’s this way,” she whispered, tugging Simon in the opposite direction.
“Too close to the warehouse,” Simon countered, not slowing his pace. “They’ll have spotters watching the access road.”
