and carry her back to Fox so he could take her home to Daddy.
* * *
• • •
Court stood in the darkened room, waiting perfectly still for a full minute, the only sound his measured but heavy breath. But even after that minute, there wasn’t enough faint light for him to get his bearings. It was clear there were no windows in the room, so he decided to turn on a light.
He felt along the wall for the light switch. As he put his hand on it and started to flip it, another hand slammed down on his, pinning it to the wall.
At the same time he heard the hammer of a pistol being pulled back, just a foot from his head.
Court froze. His left hand was free, but his pistol was on the right side of his body. He could go for it and draw it faster than most anyone on Earth, but not faster than it would take for that hammer behind him to slam forward and ignite a bullet in the gun that was certainly pointed at the back of his head.
He remained perfectly still.
The hand wore a glove, and it clasped around Court’s fingers, then used them to flip on the overhead.
A fluorescent bulb flickered on after a few seconds. Court continued looking towards the wall, even when the gloved hand let go, slid down his body, reached into his right waistband, and drew his pistol out of his pants.
He heard soft footsteps moving backwards several feet in the room.
And then, speaking English, he heard the voice that had been on his mind unceasingly for the past four months.
“Turn around slowly or I blow off your head.”
Court did so. He knew it was Zoya the instant he’d felt her hand on his, so there was no surprise on his face. Only uncertainty. A lot of uncertainty. He didn’t know what she was doing, who she was working for, or why the fuck she was here.
Zoya’s face, in contrast, showed the astonishment she clearly felt. She was nearly ten feet away now, a stainless steel revolver held on Court’s chest, and she peered over the top of the weapon, almost uncomprehendingly.
Court thought she looked exhausted to the point of being ill; sweat beads covered her cheeks and forehead and her hair was soaked. She wore no makeup, and there were dark circles under her eyes, clearly from protracted lack of sleep. Her chest rose and fell noticeably from the exertion of the past minutes.
But she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
It occurred to Court that he’d been under the hot tarp for so long that his hair was probably pretty ridiculous-looking right now. It also occurred to him that he’d never once thought about such things in the middle of an operation.
Zoya looked at him for another five seconds, still not speaking.
He broke the ice with the absolute best opening line he could think of.
“Hi.”
She lowered the pistol slowly and looked at him a little cockeyed, as if she were still trying to size him up and figure out what the hell he was doing here. Finally she said, “The sniper? The laser? The safe?”
Court nodded. “Yeah. Me.” And then, “You okay?”
She slipped the weapon in her waistband, still not taking her suspicious eyes from him, and then she began moving closer. Court kept his hands away from his body, unsure if he was going to get frisked or punched, but unwilling to make any sudden moves to startle her.
She moved faster as she closed, reached out with a hand, and put it behind his neck, and instantly his defenses fired. From this position Court knew that someone, even a smaller woman, could hoist herself up and behind a larger man, get her arms around his neck, and put him into a blood choke that would turn his lights out in seconds.
But instead her hand behind his neck pulled him hard forward; she did not leap up and behind him, but she brought his face to hers and kissed him hard, pushing him up against the door.
Moments earlier he had been running for his life and dodging bullets, and now he was being kissed. After the brief shock he was actively involved in the action now—with the woman he’d thought about thousands of times since the first day they met.
They hugged silently for a moment, and then she broke free and took a step back. “We have to get out of here,”