The Mogul and the Muscle - Claire Kingsley Page 0,92
to make anything out. Just shadowy shapes moving through the room. Men with guns drawn.
Another grunt, this time on the other side of the room. A thud. Silence.
More commands in Russian. One of them seemed to be trying the light switch, but it wasn’t working. He went down with a strangled cry and another thud.
A whisper of sound reached my ears. I could just make out the outline of the last henchman, taking slow steps in the dark. Suddenly, he went down, like someone had swept his legs out from under him. He hit the floor with a loud thud. Another grunt, and all was quiet.
The outline of a large man rose in the center of the room. My heart pounded and my eyes brimmed with tears. Oh my god. Please let it be—
“Clear,” Jude called.
The door opened, letting in light from the hallway. Someone else was there, but I had no idea who it was. All I could see was Jude.
He rushed over and crouched next to me, his eyes doing a quick sweep. “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head. Tears broke free from the corners of my eyes, leaving hot trails down my cheeks. “No. How did you find me?”
He reached up to swipe the tears with his thumb. “I bugged your shoe.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain later.” He produced a Swiss army knife from his pants pocket and went to work freeing me from the ropes. “We need to move.”
Relief crashed through me, so potent I was almost euphoric. “I knew you’d come.”
He cut through the rope binding my left ankle and looked up, meeting my eyes. “I’ll always come for you.”
That was the second time he’d quoted The Princess Bride perfectly in conversation—this time in the middle of a crisis—and a voice in my head screamed, Marry him and have all his babies!
Oh hell yes. I was going to.
He cut the rope on my other leg, then freed my arms and pulled the last of it off. I winced at the burns, raw and stinging.
Reaching around, he grabbed something from behind his back—pulled it from a belt loop—and handed it to me.
My shoe.
“Thought you might want that back.”
My lower lip quivered, and I had so many emotions swirling through me, I didn’t know what to feel first.
“My parents died when I was three and I feel guilty because I don’t remember them,” I blurted out.
“Cameron, honey, this isn’t exactly the time.”
Jude moved to Inda and started cutting her ropes while I put on my shoe and stood, noting the unconscious forms of the Russian henchmen.
“I know, I know. I just have so much to say. And for a second I thought I might never have the chance.”
It was about then that I realized Nicholas was here, standing next to… was that Bobby?
I glared at him and at least he looked guilty—and terrified. I didn’t know why he was here—or if he had anything to do with Jude finding us—but I was going to bury that little shit when this was over.
Inda got free and ran to Nicholas, landing in his arms, while Jude took my hand and hauled me against him. A second later, Bobby flinched, jumping sideways a full foot further into the room. Nicholas moved fast, swinging something large in a tight arc. Was that a skillet? It hit with a low metallic bang and another body crumpled to the ground just inside the doorway.
“Nice,” Jude said. “My parents live in Minnesota, but we’ve never been close, and I only see them once every couple years. I think I kind of scare them. Let’s go.”
Nicholas and Inda had barely had a chance to hug, but Jude led the way, clasping my hand tightly in his. We stepped over the unconscious man slumped on the floor—he was going to have one hell of a headache—and crept into the hall.
We only made it a few steps before two more men came around a corner.
Deftly maneuvering me behind him, Jude darted forward, shockingly fast. He delivered two swift jabs to the first guy’s face, knocking him out cold. Before the second could react, Jude kicked, knocking him off balance. Then he swung around, grabbed the man’s gun, and hit him in the nose with it. One more strike from Jude’s fist and the guy fell.
“Holy fuck,” Bobby said.
“Keep moving,” Jude ordered.
He took my hand and led me forward, with the others at my heels.
“Does your fist hurt?” I asked.
“It will later. I really did learn Russian from YouTube. Or at