Ice Storm - Anne Stuart [37]
“I imagine not. However, I’m your only chance of getting out of here. And you’re not the sort of woman who’d let a mission fail because you were pissed off.”
“You think you know me?” He could feel the knife nick his skin, the faint trickle of blood running down inside his collar.
“Better than you think. Are we going to stand here and rehash old times, or are we going to get the hell out of here?”
She appeared to consider it for a moment. She was more than capable of slicing his throat—he’d kept very close tabs on her activities for the last eighteen years for no reason he was willing to admit to. She was capable of it, but he was equally adept at stopping her. Because he did, in fact, know her better than she could ever guess. The truth would horrify her.
But he could save that news for later. In the meantime they had to get the hell away before the three Serbs caught up with them.
It must have taken a lot of money to turn Samuel. Each friend was only as good as the price paid for his loyalty, but Samuel knew Serafin was good for staggering amounts. It was hard to believe someone had a bigger pocketbook.
The knife pulled back from his throat, and he heard the almost silent click as she closed it. A fucking pocketknife—he’d been dangerously lax. “Lead on,” she said. “But know that if you do anything funny I’ll put a bullet in your back.” She reached in her pocket and handed him a piece of white cloth.
“What’s this?”
“A handkerchief. You’re bleeding,” she said. “I don’t want you leaving a trail.”
“Thoughtful,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to trail me like a Muslim wife. I prefer you where I can see you.”
She said nothing. He could hear the voices in the courtyard now, the three men arguing. He’d already ascertained that they were heavily armed; if it was a question of firepower, he and Isobel were toast.
But the day he couldn’t outthink and outrun even the best hired muscle would be the day he deserved to die. He looked down at Isobel—with her new face he couldn’t think of her as anything but that. His body was on high alert, and he finally had some unfinished business by his side. This was what he loved.
“Then let’s go, princess,” he said. And he basked in the flash of hatred in her eyes.
He didn’t bother trying to take her hand—she’d get that knife out in seconds flat, and this time she’d cut deeper. Not that he couldn’t stop her, but he didn’t want to waste a moment. He simply moved toward the back of the structure, keeping in the shadows, knowing she would follow his lead.
He paused before an open section of the walkway, half hoping she’d stumble into him, but she didn’t. “I smell explosives,” she whispered.
He shouldn’t be surprised; he knew she was one of the best. “I set them. Samuel tends to keep things well-fortified, and it only took a moment.”
“You’re going to blow this place?”
“With the Serbs in it.”
“But what about Samuel and Shiraz?”
“Who knows? Though I wouldn’t give a rat’s ass if they were caught in the blast. I don’t like being sold out.”
“Isn’t the explosion going to draw too much attention?”
“A nice distraction. We’ll be long gone by the time anyone realizes what happened.”
She didn’t argue, which surprised him. “Okay. But…” Her voice trailed off as they heard a muffled thump.
It was nearby, coming from behind a closed door. The three Serbs were still at the far end of the court yard, and the noise of the fountain masked the bumping sound. For now.
“Shit,” he said.
“What?”
“Go on ahead. Push the bed in our room out of the way and you’ll find a broken screen that leads out into the desert at the back of the house. Climb through there and start running. There’s a ridge about half a mile away—you’ll see it if it’s not too dark. I’ll catch up with you.”
“Don’t you think Samuel knows about the screen?”
“Nope. I never go anywhere without a way out. Get going.”
“And what are you doing?”
“Just checking out the noise. Don’t tell me you’re worried about me?”
It was the right thing to say. It annoyed her so much she pushed. “You’re a job,” she said.
“That’s right.