Page 10 of Ignite
There’s another pad to scan my badge beside a set of glass doors. A woman behind a desk has eager eyes on me already.
Sweet Jesus, please let me have the right access for this floor.
I hold my breath until the light on the security pad flickers green. Then I push through the glass doors.
The woman rises from her chair with a polite, “Good morning.”
Her name tag lists her as the office manager. She’s got a round face, freckles, and a wild frizz of light hair.
My attention drifts from her almost instantly, my mouth parting in awe as I take in the thirteenth floor. Honestly, this place is kind of fucking cool. The modern space has an open layout, with the exception of a couple closed up offices. Walls of windows offer panoramic views of the city and its lush parks. Business professionals sit in fancy cubicles, typing away with complex software pulled up on their dual monitors and answering calls in hushed voices.
Directly to the right of Gwen’s desk, I glimpse a breakroom down a short hallway, adjacent to more closed off rooms and a door to the stairwell.
Bingo.
My heart skips as I put on my most innocent smile. “Um, hi. I’m here for an interview with… IT?”
“Oh, did Alaric finally decide to hire help? Let me just phone him real quick.”
Before Gwen can dial a number, I cut in. “Do you mind if I get a drink of water?”
“Of course, dear. Help yourself. There’s tea and coffee, if you prefer.” She waves me past her desk, and I slip into the breakroom, just for a couple of seconds, knowing my time is running thin before someone reports a lying sack of shit in their presence.
I fill a cup of water and snatch a donut from a box on the counter as I drift closer to the stairwell door. There’s a meeting taking place directly across from the breakroom entrance. Glass windows reveal a full table of suited men and women tuned into a presentation given by a startlingly attractive man. He’s all dark tones and sharp edges against beautiful, creamy, pale skin.
Blood drains from my body when the man turns toward me. His frigid gaze meets mine as I’m mid-bite into my sprinkled donut.What are the fucking odds?
I guess Sinro employs murderers because the one I witnessed stabbing one of my enemies outside the library is staring me down.Maybe he won’t recognize me.
But when his nostrils flare and his hands clench into fists, I know I’m completely fucked. Tossing my cup of water, I dart for the stairwell.
Still chewing through the last bite of delicious, sugary donut, I throw myself into the gap between stair railings and fall two flights before I catch myself on another railing.
I hiss at the tug on my shoulders, hoping I didn’t damage anything. This stress on my body had better be worth something.
I race for the lower levels of the building, the most logical place in my mind to store data. It’s cooler underground, and no one could ask to venture there without seeming suspicious. No easy entry points or exits from the plans I studied.
God, I should have stolen an energy drink this morning. I feel like I’m running on fumes, even with my little nap at the shelter.
As soon as I burst through the door marked lower level one, I hear the glorious sound of buzzing computer fans. Rows of server towers blink from behind a glass wall, sealed in a temperature controlled room.
Now I just needed to find the drive with a matching serial number. No pressure. Just a hulking, sexy killer, probably on the way to snap my neck any second. Possibly armed guards right behind him.
Holy hell, I’ve never dealt with a situation like this before. I should have taken more than a day to scope this place out. Cockiness mixed with desperation is a dangerous combination.
I scan my badge on the security pad. It blinks red. Heart thundering and pulse pounding beneath my sweaty skin, I slam my combat boot against the glass door to shatter it.
Careful not to wipe out on the broken glass, I rush between the first aisle of server towers. Along the back wall, I scrounge through built-in desk drawers loaded with computer parts. I try every drawer, finding a row of them locked.
Frantically, I search for something to pick the main lock. I locate a toolkit for computer repair in a cabinet, and I get a tiny screwdriver to fit it right before the stairwell door slams open.
The murderer appears, cool and collected, despite the inferno burning in his dark eyes. Why the fuck did I think this was a good idea?
Because Jakey’s safety is on the line, that’s why.
Frozen in place, my brain scrambles for a plan. The only ways off this floor are the elevators and the one stairwell, both blocked by the murderer. There must be other rooms down here where I could possibly lose him, right?
His gaze moves from my hand on the locked drawer to my eyes. “Don’t even fucking think about it,” he warns in a deep voice.
