Riding The Edge - Elise Faber Page 0,26

I was lying next to her, wanting to keep her calm. Her voice was frosty, but it wasn’t her usual chill. Rather it was an alpine river, just frozen over for the winter, its tumultuous current still flowing rapidly, right beneath the surface. Steady on top, panic below. “And this cell?”

A beat and I actually felt the tension leave her body when I gave her the out to stop focusing on the past and to think about the mission—or at least, to pool our resources on sorting out how to get the fuck out of this cell.

“At the dead end of a corridor. Heavy metal door. Hinges on the outside. No other exit.”

“Well,” I said on a sigh. “I’ve certainly had better accommodations.”

She snorted.

“Where exactly is this special cell located?”

“Two clicks south of the hotel. Just above sea level at my father’s mansion.” She sighed. “But I’m not sure if the trackers”—all active agents had recently been implanted with GPS locating chips that could be activated by headquarters if shit got real—“will work beneath all this stone.”

“So, we can either sit tight and see if they do work. Or—”

“Or we can do our best to get the fuck out of this shithole.”

“I vote for option two,” I said.

“Me, too.” She pushed her elbows beneath her, and I helped her to gingerly sit up. “Okay.” A short, pained sigh. “Here’s what I know. The door is a metal plate, three feet in front of me. The exterior wall is made of stacked stone. There’s a loose piece back behind where you were lying. If you tug it out, we’ll be able to get a line of sight, and we might be able to put one of the trackers outside to ensure a signal.”

That seemed like a reasonable place to start.

“Have you bound your ankle?”

“It’s still in the boot.” A beat. “I think it’s better if it stays in for the time being.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, didn’t like what that meant for her mobility, nor for how bad the actual injury was. “Where’s the rock?”

“Lower left side of the far wall, about six inches from the floor. There’s a piece that sticks out a bit. You should be able to get your fingers behind it.”

I nodded. “Got it.”

“Watch your head.”

“Brit always says it’s extra hard,” I said, trying for light. “I’d be more likely to damage the rocks than my skull.”

Ava snorted. “You do put the stub in stubborn.”

I groaned. “That was a Ryker level joke.”

She got quiet then said softly. “They’re okay.”

Except it was more question than statement and . . . it was something I hoped as well. Because if the Toscalos had found our room, they most likely had eyes on KTS and knew where all the agents were. And seriously, what a goddamned mindfuck—thinking we were the ones who had all the eyes, going in overconfident and thinking we were in control.

Then in the end, we’d been the ones ambushed.

Fuck.

“They had backup from the other KTS teams,” I said, as much to convince myself as her. “I think they’ll be in a better position than we are.”

“You’re right.”

“Always.”

She laughed lightly. “Nice try. Okay. Get your ass to that wall.”

“Try not to stare at me as I move,” I said, feeling in front of me as I crawled my way to the wall. “I know my ass is my best asset.”

“That is the worst joke I’ve ever heard.”

“Even worse than Ryker’s?”

“Fuck yes.”

But my bad jokes and the lighthearted banter were distracting her, were subduing that buried panic in her tone, perking up her voice so she didn’t seem so distraught and unlike herself.

The dry, calm Ava was back.

“How about you get your ass in gear?” she told me.

“Laila would be gagging about that one,” I said, finding the little divot and trying to get my fat ass fingers behind it.

“She likes his bad jokes,” Ava said. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have married her.”

“I suppose,” I said.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” I said, tugging at the rock. “It’s tight.”

A beat.

Then, “That’s what she said.”

Freezing, not processing the statement at first, I nearly cracked my head on the low ceiling. Then I began to laugh. “Really?” I asked.

It was an Olive thing to say, a bad joke she would have whispered over the com, something that would get them all to chill. “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she said and sighed. “I know I should be focused on the here and now. I know I should concentrate on us