Page 136 of The Bachelor Spy
Yes, he could survive this too.
He had to.
The muffled staccato of gunfire increased his pace toward the wing.
Sharp sounds of combat grew louder as he reached the corridor that led to the gallery. Furniture crashing. Grunts of effort. Then—silence.
Breath squeezed from his lungs.
He pushed open the door, gun raised.
And his body froze.
In the middle of the gallery, Evie stood bleeding with Rivers behind her, holding a knife to her throat. Both poised as if they’d been waiting for him.
The rate of his pulse tripled in his ears, but he refused to give anything away. He assessed Evie with a sweep of his gaze. Bloody shoulder. Swollen eye and cheek. Leaning to the left. Wounded hip? Knee?
Rivers’ attention dropped to the satchel at Blake’s side, and her smile disappeared, slowly realizing her connections—Smith and Weber—had been compromised.
Her intel … intercepted.
Her mission?
Failed.
The uncertainty flickered for only a second, and then her eyes narrowed, and with almost devilish arrogance, her lips unfurled into a slow sneer.
“I see you are more than what you appear to be, Mr. Blake.” Her voice remained pleasant, conversational, but her grip tightened on Evie to such an extent that the faintest hint of red slid across Evie’s neck. “But how lovely of you to join us. And you even brought a gift. I’ve always thought you were an impeccable gentleman.”
He took a slow step forward, biding time to take full inventory of Rivers’ position, assess options. “I do wish to return the compliment, but I’m afraid you are not behaving much like a lady.” He tsked. “Scarring such a lovely neck really is a horrible way to use a knife.”
“Well, if you wish to keep up appearances, I could bring the knife up through her back directly into her heart.” She tilted her head, studying him. “Would that be your preference? There are several other options, if you’d like to make a request.”
Few villains he’d met unnerved him.
But she did. Her calm. Her eerie control.
Perhaps it truly was arrogance. A sort of misplaced confidence.
Or perhaps it was pure evil.
“If you’re open to requests, I think it would be rather decent of you to just give up altogether and call it a day.” Another step. “It only took a little persuasion for your comrades to acquiesce.”
Her gaze lit, signaling the slightest enjoyment of their repartee. Arrogance, indeed.
“Not without that little gift of yours.” Rivers’ smile transformed into a snarl. “Hand over the satchel, and I’ll let Miss Montgomery live. Simple exchange. Very ladylike of me, after the nasty beating she dealt out and all.”
“Don’t.” Evie’s voice was fierce. “Blake, don’t you dare—”
“Evie—” His palm came up to still her words.
“Shoot her.” Evie’s eyes locked with his, willing him to understand. “The intelligence is more important. Hundreds of lives—”
“Oh, this is delicious.” Rivers’ grin returned. “Evan just happened to mention how your partner, Miss Montgomery, was half in love with you. Though I didn’t realize you and Falcon were the same until now.” She licked her lips as if the information held a pleasant taste. “How convenient.” She pressed the blade harder against Evie’s throat, releasing a fresh trickle of blood down her neck. “How much is your sweetheart worth to you, Mr. Blake?”
His brain calculated the possibilities. Rivers stood at just such an angle and height, with Evie’s bent position, that if he shot true enough, the bullet could clear through Evie’s shoulder into Rivers’ chest.
But there was a one in a thousand—possibly ten thousand—chance of succeeding.
