Page 10 of Run

The coward. The two-faced, interfering, annoying coward.

She pointed at her team, swinging her arm wide. “I am very annoyed with every single one of you right now.”

There was nothing to do but pace the small space, making Elle feel like a caged tiger. Only, instead of a fake savannah, she had two sets of built-in bunk beds behind her, a table and chairs in front of her, and a wall of screens above a long desk. Oh, and the kitchen area, where Julia was quietly rearranging all the spices in alphabetical order while waiting for the kettle to boil.

“Have you calmed down enough to talk yet?” Callum asked, making her want to hit him over the head with a chair.

“Did you know that the computer in your bionic prosthetic legs can be hacked?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Tell me to calm down one more time, and you’ll dance a jig every time you put them on.”

“Stop scaring the boys.” Megan pulled out a chair at the table and sat. “Lucy, you got some ’splaining to do. You’ve been keeping secrets from your team, and that’s all kinds of wrong. If my family happened to be the English Mob, I’d have told you. I’m really quite hurt that you didn’t confide. Just sayin’.”

Elle snorted with outrage. “Yeah, right. I can hear that conversation now: ‘Hey, guys, did I mention that I’m on the run from my psychopathic gangster father and his adoring son? No? Well, let’s discuss it over cookies and tea.’”

“That would have worked,” Megan said with a nod.

“Who’s that with Marcus?” Ryan pointed at the main screen, which showed the decimated foyer. Her brother and his right-hand man stood in the middle of the debris—looking pissed.

Good.

“That’s Abasi Otieno,” Elle snapped. “He’s Marcus’ second-in-command. Or understudy. Whatever. I never could get my head around the organizational structure.”

Abasi was a lithe and compact black man whose family hailed from Kenya. If Marcus was heir to the James throne, Abasi was prime minister-in-waiting. She’d liked Abasi when they were kids. Back when she’d also liked her brother.

While Elle continued to pace, Joe tapped the keyboard on the desk, and the audio from the camera came on.

“Cops will be here in a couple of minutes,” Abasi said. “We’re cutting it close.”

Marcus planted his hands on his hips, his face a mask of tightly controlled rage—an expression that reminded her far too much of their father. The sight pulled the rug out from under her own anger. She didnotwant to be like them—another James family member with anger-management issues. No, she never wanted to be like any of them. Her shoulders slumped as the last reserves of rage fled her. Now she just felt sad.

On the screen, Marcus said, “Need to get to her first.”

“I know, brother.” Abasi checked his phone. “Police are a couple of minutes away. You can’t be here when they arrive.”

“Do they know who Elle Roberts really is?” Marcus’ cold eyes met his friend’s.

“They do now. Somebody talked.”

Marcus swore. “If they get to her before we do, this whole thing will go to hell.”

“I’ll contact our man on the inside. Make sure that doesn’t happen.” Abasi was already sending a text.

“Great,” Megan muttered. “Guess we can totally trust the cops then.”

Callum’s grim face said he agreed with her sarcasm. “We’re not without our own connections in the force, though.”

“There must be another exit,” Marcus was saying. “No way they got past the men stationed out back, and we sure as hell won’t find anything searching this place.”

“I’m confused—” Ryan said.

“It’s because you have a teeny, tiny brain,” Elle told him sweetly.

“I don’t mean confused generally,” Ryan corrected. “I mean, I’m confused about this. If he thinks searching the building is a waste of time, why did he send his men to do exactly that? I saw him point to the stairs.” Ryan gestured to the other screens, showing men in several rooms. “They’re definitely looking for you in the offices.”

“Maybe it’s a case of covering all their bases?” Joe mused. “Making sure he hasn’t missed anyone?”

On the main screen, Abasi cocked his head. “You hear that? Sirens. Time to get out of here.”

Marcus holstered his gun under his suit jacket and fastened it. “Let’s go.” He turned and strode toward the door.