Something is going on, but I can’t even wrap my head around it.
We hustle up to the front of the building to get away from the psycho in the car, and right when we get there, the doors swing open and two guys who look oddly familiar are holding what look like assault rifles.
I’m officially in some kind of dream. Why isn’t Alicia screaming her lungs out? I just… What the fuck?
They both look around, then shout in some god-awful German accents that aren’t even remotely close to being realistic. “Get inside.”
At this point, I know this can’t be real, but I’m just blinking rapidly because who the hell does this?
One of the guys says to the other, “Take them to the main floor with the other hostages.”
They lead us over to the elevator and we step into it. I can’t stop looking at the guys. They have different colored long hair, but it looks like wigs. They’re both different sizes, but the same height. Then, I see it.
The sleeve on the smaller guy rides up a little and the tattoos are unmistakable.
“Dexter?” I stare up at him.
He shakes his head and refuses to look at me, but it looks like he’s holding back a laugh. “Nein! Not Dexter!”
That’s all he says, then I realize the other one is Deacon, and his shoulders are bouncing, like he’s seriously trying not to lose it.
This is insane.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
“Quieeeeetttt!” Dexter shouts, but he still can’t even look at me.
When the elevator doors slide open, it all makes sense at once.
There are Christmas decorations everywhere, but a ton of my old coworkers are in suits and dresses. They’re all sitting on the floor, some of them tied up, pretending to be hostages, but they’re all having normal conversations until they see us, then everyone goes quiet and tries to look scared.
Then, a man steps out from around the corner. He may be the worst actor out of all of them, and he’s most definitely a goddamn villain, whether he’s pretending to be one or not. I can’t believe this is actually happening. I can’t believe Alicia would put me in this position, whether she means well or not. Did she know about all this? Of course she did, she nodded at the driver.
This asshole in front of me is clearly Decker Collins, but he has on some kind of toupee and a fake beard. He doesn’t even come close to looking like Hans Gruber and it’s an absolute insult to Alan Rickman. Over on The Hunter Group sign there’s a banner across it that says Nakatomi Plaza.
“Miss Rains, how nice to make your acquaintance.” He waves a fake pistol out to his side.
It’s too much to process and I blurt out, “Jesus fuck,” while I shake my head right at him.
I want to be angry, but it’s so damn ridiculous at this point, I can’t even get mad. My eyes keep roaming around, because the only person who could’ve orchestrated this shit has to be here. He’s the only man I want to see less than the shitty Hans Gruber in front of me.
Decker doesn’t even attempt to fake an accent, which I oddly kind of respect him for, and I start to wonder if maybe we have something in common for once, and he’s being forced against his will to be here too. It’s the only thing that gives me a tiny bit of comfort.
Finally, I get my wits about me a little, hold up my hands and say, “I’m leaving.”
“Not until I get my five hundred and forty million dollars in bearer bonds, Miss Rains.”
He’s so fucking wooden and monotone I blurt out a laugh, then say, “It’s six hundred and forty million, genius.”
Decker’s eyes dart over to the long-haired Dexter next to me. I glance over and Dexter sort of shrugs a little like what the fuck you gonna do?
Decker seems to snap back into character, or whatever minimal range he has, and starts toward me. “And you’re going to help me get them.”
I shake my head at him, trying not to grin, because no. This is not acceptable, even if it is a tiniest fraction of a bit cute, especially watching Decker humiliate himself against his will in front of all his employees.
No, none of these people are forgiven, at all.
He walks up and stares right at me, then looks at the inside of his forearm where I think he might have an index card taped. I see a flash of white.
Then, it becomes obvious because he reads straight from it in a staccato rhythm. “I’m an exceptional thief, Miss Rains. And since I’m moving up to kidnapping, you should be more polite.”
“Well done, Hans.” I smirk right at him. “You nailed it.”
Dexter and Deacon both try to hold in laughs on each side of me.
“Take her to the vault.” He waves the fake gun at nothing in particular.
Deacon and Dexter both nudge me with their fake machine guns, and this must be the part where the big asshole will make his heroic gesture or whatever.
But something else happens. The elevator dings behind me. We all turn around, and it seems like this is unexpected.
The doors slide open, and my blood gets even hotter. It’s Blake Thompson. His eyes widen when he sees everything taking place.
“What the hell is this?” He glances around the room.
“Oh fuck.” Dexter looks at Deacon, then they both turn to Decker/Hans.
When my eyes follow them over to Decker, he looks like a goddamn rage factory. Like he may seriously have a stroke any second. Even I feel my stomach tighten a little at the way he’s glaring at Blake.
Blake steps off the elevator and squints at him. “Decker?”
Decker drops his fake gun on the ground, and it doesn’t even clank, clearly made of plastic. Both of his hands ball into fists at his sides.
Interesting. Maybe this, and only this, is worth a few minutes of my time before I get the fuck out of this place.
He walks toward Blake, but glances at me as he does it, and in his normal, asshole voice, he says, “Hate me or not, I’m glad you’re here to see this.”
I blink a few times, because Decker looks absolutely murderous right now.
“You got here just in time.”
“Why the hell does your hair look like that?” Blake shuffles on his feet a little, probably because of the way Decker is walking toward him.
Every eye in the place is glued on both of them.
“That doesn’t concern you. It’s company business, and you’re no longer a part of this company.”
Blake snickers a little like it’s absurd. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. It would behoove you to take your fucking ass straight back to that elevator, get on a plane, and go back to New York.”
“New York? This a joke?”
Decker pokes a finger straight into Blake’s chest. “Better yet, there’s something you can do first that needs to be done.”
Moving faster than I’ve ever seen a man move in my life, he grips Blake by the back of his collar and yanks him damn near off his feet and right toward me.
Holy fuck.
“Jesus Christ, you psycho, let go of me!” Blake paws at Decker’s hand as his feet slide all over the tile floor.
Decker slings him in front of me and points at him. “Stay right fucking there and shut your goddamn mouth. I’m going first, then it’s your turn.”
Decker or Hans or whoever, looks me in the eye and says, “I’m sorry, Karli. What I did to you was unfair, and wrong, and whether you want to continue working for us or not, I want you to know that.” He clears his throat, and I think he may actually be serious right now, like emotional even. “I mean every word. I can’t make up for the way we treated you. I’ve been dealing with my own personal shit, and it got taken out on you, and there’s absolutely no excuse for it.”