Page 49 of A Little Bit More

“Run,” Ryan said. “In a minute, you won’t be able to see your hand in front of your face.”

Julia started to run, which was damn hard in a pencil skirt. She made a mental note to wear moreathleticclothes to work in the future.

“Julia?” Rachel snapped from the top of the stairway. “My computer’s telling me that I don’t have access to the network anymore, and I can’t get through to Elle. Where is she anyway? If she’s off hunting down that man again, I will hang her over the stairwell by her thumbs… Why on earth is there smoke billowing across the floor? Are we on fire?” She sniffed. “It doesn’t smell like smoke.”

“Fog,” Ryan said. “Intruder deterrent. Get out of the building before you’re crawling on the floor, begging to find the exit.”

“I’m sorry.” Rachel arched a perfectly groomed brow. “Are we in some sort of alternate universe where you’remyboss? No. I don’t think so. I give the orders.”

“Well, order your backside out that door,” Ryan snapped.

“There seem to be some system problems,” Julia intervened, playing peacemaker as usual. Ryan and Rachel behaved like bad-tempered siblings.

“We need to get down to the basement and sort this out,” Ryan said. “I can reboot the system from the control room. The fog has to be stopped, or it could damage the electronics on this level. And I’m worried about the effect it might have on Isobel and her baby.”

As if somehow listening to him, the fog immediately stopped pumping into the room, and the extraction fans came on.

“I told you it was Gremlins,” Isobel called from just outside the doorway. “I’ve seen this movie. It didn’t end well. At least, I don’t think it did. I fell asleep about three-quarters of the way through. But those little buggers were scary.”

“So scary they put you to sleep?” Ryan asked.

“I was nursing Jack at the time, and I was knackered. I could have slept through World War Three even if it’d happened in my living room.”

“As deeply uninteresting as that story is,”—Rachel stalked down the stairs, dressed in her usual black stilettoes and designer suit—“we have more pressing problems than your ability to stay awake. Are you sure it’s just a glitch and not an intruder?”

Julia shared a worried look with Ryan and Isobel. “No,” she said.

“Then we should prepare for the worst. Are you armed?”

“Are you?” Julia asked. Was she the only woman in the building without a weapon?

Rachel swept back her jacket to reveal a hip holster with a small handgun inside. “It’s Gucci. I had it specially designed.”

“Gucci makes guns?” Isobel asked.

“I swear, pregnancy isn’t doing your IQ any favors at all.” Rachel shook her head in disgust. “The holster is Gucci. I’m trying it out, but I’m not certain I like wearing it. It interferes with the cut of my clothes.”

“Donottake that weapon out of its fancy-arsed holster,” Ryan snapped. “You couldn’t hit Buckingham Palace if you were standing two feet from it. We’re all safer if you just keep the gun as decoration.”

Rachel’s cold eyes met Ryan’s. “Do you have a weapon?”

“I didn’t think I’d need one to come into the office.” He glared back at her.

“I don’t think you can shoot Gremlins,” Isobel said. “A gun probably isn’t any use anyway.” She tugged on Ryan’s leather bomber jacket. “Can you shoot Gremlins?”

“Gremlins aren’t real,” he told her.

“Are you sure?”

“Stop talking about fictional monkey-demons.” Rachel turned her attention to Julia, who had to fight the urge to run and hide. “Where’s Callum?”

“In the basement, sparring with Joe,” she managed to reply.

“Then, would it be too much of a strain on everyone’s logic for me to suggest that we go to the basement?”

“I just said that,” Ryan muttered before motioning Isobel back inside. “You’d better stick with us. We don’t know what’s going on, and I can’t protect all of you if we split up.”

“I am perfectly capable of protecting myself,” Rachel snapped.