Page 83 of Being Bold
“Yumi Nakano, I presume?” He quirked a brow at her.
She wasn’t about to confirm that. “Answer my question first.”
He smirked and shifted his weight. Her gaze caught on the knife he’d just pulled on her. Though the blade was a different shape from hers, it was the same length and just as deadly. “Should we do this the hard way or the easy way?”
Internally, she sighed. She’d hoped she wouldn’t have to ruin this dress. “Step away from that server.”
“The hard way, then,” he taunted with a grin and lunged for her.
Expecting his move, she easily dodged the swipe he made at her, spinning in her high heels to keep him in her sight. Physically, he had the advantage in height and reach. If she wanted to survive this, she’d have to disarm him. When he lunged again, she gripped his arm and used it to toss him over her body.
She spun as he hit the concrete floor, his breath pushed from his lungs in a painful-sounding expulsion. While he lay stunned, she put her stiletto to use, stabbing it through the fleshy part of his hand and forcing him to drop the knife. With her other foot, she kicked the weapon away.
She didn’t have time to celebrate that fact because she’d severely pissed the guy off. He ripped his hand away and jumped to his feet with a roar. Then he launched himself at her, throwingpunches she had to work hard to block. Each time he connected with the outside of her arms, she felt the force of it reverberate through her bones. If she lived through this, she’d be sore tomorrow.
On the defensive, she didn’t have an opening to use her blade. He’d nearly pushed her back to the wall. Wanting to avoid getting stuck, she tucked her shoulder and rolled forward.
Coming up behind him, she struck with her tanto before he even had a chance to turn. She’d aimed for his kidney. Maybe he’d live, maybe he wouldn’t.
As he dropped to his knees then tumbled forward, she tried not to think about the blood pooling underneath him. The important thing was that he wouldn’t be coming after her. Using his dark suit jacket to clean off her blade, she strapped it back to her thigh.
Steeling herself, she checked the guard slumped in front of the server that held Sentient Shadow for a pulse. Nothing beat beneath the skin at his neck. He was dead. Shifting her focus, she pulled a cord from her holster. With it, she connected her phone to the drive and started to overwrite Sentient Shadow. The program she used would replace the entirety of the AI model with random ones and zeroes five separate times.
It was the surest method to ensure the weapon’s destruction without physically destroying the server. An option she’d considered, but one that would draw way too much attention. What she was doing would render Sentient Shadow unreadable—useless. For good measure, she encrypted the overwritten information so that no one could access it.
It was an encryption of her own making. Only she had the key, and she planned to destroy that for redundancy’s sake. If she were lucky, it would take Dao a while to realize the AI model had been tampered with. Although . . . she glanced at theblond man who was groaning and bleeding out on the floor. His presence would set off alarms.
With a sigh, she finished the encryption and disconnected from the server. The best she could hope for was to make it out of the embassy before that happened.
With that aim in mind, she stowed her equipment. The quickest way out of the room was to walk by the man she’d incapacitated. Giving him as wide a berth as she could in the narrow path between rows, she began to scoot past when she sensed movement from him.
Before she could react, a burn scorched across her leg. She hissed in pain. The man had found the knife she’d kicked and used it to slice her leg through the slit in her dress. Enraged, she dropped to one knee, grabbed the weapon from his weakened grip before he could use it on her again, and plunged it through his neck.
Gasping, she crawled away from him. When she was far enough to be comfortable, she took stock of her injury.
There was a deep gash in the back of her right calf. Knowing it would leave a blood trail, she ripped the ruffled trim off the bodice of her dress and wrapped it around her lower leg. At least the man hadn’t cutthroughher dress. The length would hide the injury enough to get out of the embassy. With a grunt, she pulled herself to her feet and headed quickly back to the ballroom.
By the time she made it, she was limping. Her leg throbbed relentlessly. It felt like blood streamed out of the wound with each step she took. She prayed it didn’t drip and draw notice before she could properly tend to it.
Feeling the wall, she found the lever and pressed. The hidden door slid aside, allowing her to step back into the ballroom. Hearing the door latch behind her, she took a steadying breath, leaning so as not to put weight on her right leg. Music played softly from the stage while a din of voices and glasses clinkingfilled the air in between. No one noticed her slip from behind the wall hanging.
Or so she thought.
“Ah, there you are,” said a voice she didn’t recognize as a large hand closed around her right upper arm.
Her instinct was to make whoever thought they could touch her regret that decision, but she reminded herself she didn’t need to draw attention. Gritting her teeth, she met the gaze of the man who’d stopped her.
You!
Her mind stuttered on the exclamation as her stomach jumped and her breath shortened. It was the man who’d watched her on the stairs. Mr. Handsome was even better up close. He had flawless skin.
Probably moisturizes.
She smirked at the thought. High maintenance was not her type. Even so, she couldn’t stop staring. His eyes were a deep caramel color, he had a cleft in his chin, and a dimple winked in his right cheek when he smiled at her perusal.
Get it together, Yumi!
She blinked, breaking out of the lust filling her senses. “Let go of me,” she told him in as stern a tone as she could muster with her breathing going haywire at his touch.
