Page 132 of One Secret

I'm just as quick, drawing my Glock and leveling it at her head.

But Lana has leverage that I don't. She turns the barrel of the Ruger onto Darcy, who puts her hands back up with a sigh.

'Told you I should have a gun,' she grumbles under her breath at me.

I tighten my grip on the Glock, not yet ready to surrender. I align the barrel with my forearm, keep my head low for sightline, and rest my finger over the trigger.

'I can always hand you both over to Felix,' Lana warns, 'and get what I want in a far bloodier way.'

We hang in the balance for a second. Maybe two.

My mind is rushing with calculations.

The Ruger has a harder recoil and Lana a slimmer wrist. In this small space, I'm more likely to hit my target than she is. But am I willing to risk that? Not to mention, her weapon has no silencer. The noise would draw the Orangutan and his cronies right to us...

I exhale and grind down on my back teeth. I hold up both my hands.

'All right,' I surrender. 'All right. I can put you in contact with my intel guy.'

'I want a name.'

'I don't have a name.'

Lana cocks the gun. I dive forward a step, putting myself in its path.

'I swear it!' I promise her. 'I swear it to you! I don't know her real name.'

'Her?' Lana seems surprised.

'He thinks it's a woman,' Darcy interjects from over my shoulder with one raised eyebrow.

'I can put you in contact with her,' I promise. 'I can give you a referral so she doesn't radio silence you. I can make it happen. Just please... please, put down the gun.'

Lana waits, her demeanor calm and confident, her expression considering. Her eyes drill into mine then trace every plane and angle of my face. I feel like I'm being x-rayed for signs of dishonesty.

I only breathe again when Lana slowly lowers the Ruger.

'Fine,' she agrees. 'Then I'll be in touch in a few weeks. You'll give up your contact then.'

'Where will—'

'I know your Rome address. If you're not there when I visit, I'll find you.' Her eyes flick from mine to Darcy's, then down toward Darcy's navel. 'All of you.'

I don't realize I've taken an aggressive step forward until Darcy has me by the arm. Suddenly, I'm breathing through my nose. My chest is heaving. My hands are fists of fucking fury. The plastic of the Glock's grip squeezes hard against my palm.

And I hadn't even felt myself move.

Lana, in the face of my torrential rage, seems momentarily spooked and then amused.

'See?' she says, smiling at Darcy. 'I told you it would be something to behold...'

I don't know what the fuck Lana's on about and I don't care. Darcy has one arm wrapped around my shoulder and has her other hand stroking at my neck, my face.

We're lucky my instinct wasn't to start shooting, or this whole thing could have escalated back up to fatality levels.

Lana might be letting us go now but there's no doubt in my mind that, if we didn't have something to offer her, we'd be leaving this closet in body bags. This is, after all, the woman who took out Alexei Machelli, heir and son of a mafia don.

Leon isn't going to like you letting her go...

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