“I hope wherever you are taking me serves tea because I’d love a cuppa to go with a piece of this cake.”
“We won’t be staying long enough for that.”
They turned left on the other side of the Capitol taking Independence Avenue past the congressional office buildings before veering back onto Pennsylvania Avenue again. Victorian row houses sitting back behind iron fences and established trees lined the streets. With their dynamic palette of colors, no two were alike.
Ordinarily, her artistic eyes would be drinking in the beauty of the neighborhood. Instead, her brain whirred as she tried to come up with a way to stall him once they arrived. Most likely, what she was looking for was in his bedroom. Her body simmered at the thought. She’d used her feminine wiles many times to get inside a target’s bedroom. But her stomach rolled at the thought of deceiving Ben any more than she already was. Seduction was off the table with him. Mainly because the toe-curling lip-lock they’d shared earlier had turned her brain to mush in an instant. She needed to keep her wits about her.
Three blocks later, he turned onto Sixth Street before steering the car into a narrow alley between two houses where he cut the engine.
“We’re just going in, grabbing something, and coming right back out,” he announced.
“I have to go to the toilet.” Better to go with an old standby instead.
His fingers squeezed the steering wheel before letting go. “Fine.”
They entered through a back door leading into a wide-open kitchen complete with an island, stainless steel appliances, and a brick fireplace next to a round table and chairs. She was taken aback at the hominess of the room. For a brief moment, Quinn found herself actually thirsting for a cup of tea shared with friends around the table.
If she had friends, of course.
“Bathroom’s down this hall.” He indicated an area to the front of the house. He was poised to make his way upstairs.
“Is there another one up there?” she asked doing her best to look forlorn. “I’d rather not be alone in a strange place.”
His face softened instantly and she felt a twinge of guilt.
“Of course,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking. You can use the one in my room.”
He led the way up the steep staircase. There were three bedrooms on this level and an open loft area up another flight.
“Through here.” He indicated a bedroom at the back. “I’ve just got to get something from the office upstairs. It will only take a minute.”
“Take your time,” she told him.
Her fantasy of tripping over the tuxedo evaporated once she stepped inside his bedroom. It looked a lot like she imagined a military barracks would look. Neat. Orderly. Boring. The double bed was made up as if a hotel maid had done it. The floor wasn’t littered with dirty socks or discarded shoes like most guys’ rooms. Not even a container to drop his change or car keys into. In fact, unlike the Seas the Day, there was very little to identify who lived in the room. A copy of a John Grisham novel sat on the nightstand next to a phone charger. A few computer magazines were in a wicker basket beside the bed, but other than that, the room was very utilitarian.
Ben’s footsteps sounded above her and she made a beeline for his closet. Quickly, she rifled through the clothes hanging within it. Disappointment washed over her. No tuxedo. She needed to think fast because she was running out of time.
Figuring the nightstand would be the most likely place he’d store personal items from his pockets, she pulled the drawer open. The only things inside were a weathered address book and a stack of photos. Her heart stopped when she caught a glimpse of the one on top of the pile. It was the picture she’d taken of the two of them years ago. She’d propped her camera on top of a rock and used the self-time to capture several images of them. She recognized this one as the photo she’d had hanging on her bedroom mirror. She had a similar one tucked away in a journal in her safe house. How had Ben gotten hold of this one? Her eyes burned as she reverently fingered the picture before nearly dropping it when she heard a loud thump overhead.
Crap! She’d wasted too much time and Ben was on his way down. She quickly closed the door and ran into the loo to flush the toilet. With one last frustrated glance around the room, she headed to the door. A crash sounded from the loft above. Quinn hurried to the stairs.
“Ben?” she called.
The only answer was a grunt and a sharp intake of breath. Cautiously, she hurried up the stairs only to freeze at the sight greeting her once she reached the top. One of Alexi’s henchmen had Ben in a choke hold.
Chapter Nine
The guy came out of nowhere. His stealth identified him as a professional. Fortunately, Ben caught the assassin’s reflection in the computer monitor just as he was raising his gun outfitted with a silencer. Ben spun his right leg around in a Jiu Jitsu kick and knocked the Beretta from the guy’s hand before he had time to react. The gun slid beneath an end table next to the stairs.
Ben was frantically grabbing for anything on the desk he could use as a weapon when the other guy snarled and charged him. A second later, he landed another kick to the guy’s shoulder momentarily stunning him. Ben shifted his body around so he wasn’t pinned against the desk. The assassin reached beneath his pant leg and pulled a lethal looking knife out of his boot. Ben raised his hand to ward off the knife when he heard Quinn’s voice.
Shit!
He’d hoped she’d stay safe in the bedroom. His heart sped up just knowing she was still alive. But he’d hesitated too long. The other guy was on him quickly. Ben managed to get in a nasty strike to the assassin’s wrist dislodging the knife, but not before the guy slashed through Ben’s T-shirt, ripping the skin on his right shoulder. Between the sting of the wound and the sound of Quinn’s footsteps on the stairs, he got distracted long enough for the other guy to get him in a choke hold. Ben was moving the other guy back toward the low ceiling in hopes of getting in a headbutt and a kick to his instep when Quinn appeared on the landing.
The guy choking him seemed surprised to see her before he chuckled.
“You’re next.”
With the ease of someone comfortable with firearms, Quinn retrieved the gun from beneath the table and pointed it at them. Ben continued to claw at the hands around his neck, praying she wouldn’t fire the gun. The only one he’d trust with a shot that tricky was Adam.
“Let him go,” she demanded, coolly.
The fingers on his carotid artery tightened. Wheezing, Ben angled his head to slam into the guy’s jaw, but he never got a chance. In an instant, the fingers around his neck loosened and the guy behind him slumped against him. Ben gasped in several breaths before shoving the guy backward. When he turned around, the assassin was a heap against the wall, a single bullet hole in the center of the forehead.
Incredulous, he glanced back at Quinn but she had her fingers to her lips.
“He has a partner,” she mouthed.
Ben grabbed the knife and made his way over to the stairs. He was a bit stunned to realize she was unfazed and all business after shooting another human being with the cold calculation of a trained killer. Months back, Josslyn had shot a man trying to kidnap a little boy in her care. She’d been shaken for weeks.