Page 6 of The Gentleman

You’re the only one I can trust. Please, I need you to?—

“Time’s up.” Grant’s reflection filled the wardrobe mirror.

Send. The incomplete message vanished into digital space as Kat jammed the phone beneath a fallen cashmere sweater.

She grabbed a dry hoodie from a hanger and yanked it on.

Grant’s grip locked hard around her elbow—not enough to bruise, but fast enough to warn.

“This is a setup.” Kat’s voice stayed level despite the fire in her elbow. “Those documents were planted.”

Grant grunted. “Save your breath.”

Pierce filled the hallway like a brick wall, already positioned by the front door.

“This is a mistake,” Kat called out as cold metal bit her wrists. The handcuffs clicked tight.

Grant tested the fit. “Shut up.”

“Tell it to the tribunal.” Pierce twisted the front door handle.

Cool night air rushed in, carrying the scent of rain and exhaust fumes. The street lamp cast harsh yellow circles on the wet ground. Pierce stepped outside first, head swiveling before jogging to their car.

The tabby exploded from the shadows.

Striped fur streaked past Kat’s legs, then ricocheted through Grant’s ankles like a furry missile. Grant’s balance shattered. She pitched sideways, releasing Kat as her shoulder hit the door, cracking the glass.

Pierce spun toward them, mouth gaping. “Hey?—”

“Landon!” Eldridge’s voice cracked like a whip from behind.

Kat was already moving. Legs pumping, arms useless behind her back, she sprinted toward her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Patterson’s hedge. The dense rhododendrons rose like a green wall.

She dove.

Branches tore at her face. Thorns slashed her arms. She hit squelching earth, rolled hard onto her side, breath driven from her lungs.

Fuck.

She thrashed upright, crashing through the neighbor’s prize roses. Mrs. Patterson was going to befurious. Garden gnomes in red trousers grinned at her from the darkness.

“No lethal force unless absolutely necessary!” Eldridge’s command carried across the hedge.

Mrs. Patterson’s back garden butted against a narrow alley that connected to three different streets. Kat knew the layout. The alley split three ways—they’d waste precious minutes picking the wrong one.

She pressed herself against the cold brick of the house, gulping in air.

Radio chatter buzzed from the street. They were calling for backup, establishing checkpoints. Within minutes, the area would be crawling with additional agents.

She needed traffic noise and the bus route. Witnesses. Complications they couldn’t afford.

Pierce’s heavy breathing filtered through the foliage—winded, but moving. Maybe sixty seconds before he breached her position.

She ducked low and hurried to the back garden, slowing as she spotted the gate to the alley was secured with a hefty padlock.

Shit.

She checked left. Right. A large compost bin had been built flush with the fence.Kat rolled onto the top of the bin, wet wood creaking under her weight. On her knees, she threw her upper body over and tumbled into the alley. Tears scalded her eyes and agony exploded through her hips and shoulders as she hit the dirt, grit grinding between her teeth.

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