Page 6 of To Catch A Rogue
"One of Golorukov's guards must have followed me," she whispered.
And she'd been too busy arguing with Charlie to pay attention.
That was a foolish, novice mistake.
The kind she'd chided others over.
"Oh, I weighed all the risks, Charlie," he breathed in her ear, mimicking her. "Some of us like to think before we take action."
Lark dug her thumb between his ribs, and he stifled a grunt.
Sound slithered over the roof tiles above them.
Her gaze met Charlie's, and she made a few quick gestures with her hand in the sign language her mentor, Tin Man, had once taught her. Tin Man had been mute, and she'd taught Charlie how to speak with him when they were both children.
Charlie nodded, turning to the side to allow her enough space to make her move.
Tugging a knife free from his belt, she turned and threw it as far as she could. The clatter of it landing on the cobbles echoed through the still night.
"Had to be one of mine?"His fingers moved rapidly.
"Payback for startling me."
There was no sound above, but a shadow suddenly appeared in the alleyway, the guard moving across the roof in the direction she'd thrown the knife.
Then she and Charlie were moving in the opposite direction like wraiths.
Into an alley, and then down the next one....
She'd plotted out every inch of these streets during the week she'd spent watching the diplomat's house, and knew the best way to get out of here.
Staying on the streets was too dangerous. They'd be trapped like rats in a barrel if they did, so she scaled a wall between gardens, crawled up the nearest drainpipe, and squatted on the roof. Up here, they had more space to maneuver and a better vantage point.
Just in time.
A patch of shadow moved toward them, dancing between chimneys. The guard must have found the knife and realized they'd be heading in the opposite direction.
"Left,"Charlie told her.
Which meant she went right.
It didn't escape her notice that he'd given her the safest route, with plenty of cover. Charlie sprinted along the ridge of the roof, clearly visible. Damn him. Drawing the fire if it came. And the pursuit.
"You stupid, risk-taking bastard," she breathed, and went after him and the guard. If they survived the night, then she was going to kill him.
Shots rang out, ricocheting through the darkness.
Charlie vanished down the slope of the roof, and Lark's heart was in her throat as dogs set up howling. Lights flickered on in several windows nearby. If any of the guards at Golorukov's house heard the racket, someone might grow curious enough to investigate.
She sprinted up the ridgeline, ducking behind a chimney when she caught a glimpse of the burly shadow surveying the streets below him. Lark slid one of her knives from her sleeve into her gloved hand, barely daring to breathe.
"Lark?" Charlie whispered hoarsely.
It sounded as loud as a shout in the night, and relief flooded through her for all of a second, before she realized he must have seen her and was trying to distract the guard.
The guard turned to aim his pistol in Charlie's direction, and Lark slipped up behind him and put her knife to his throat.
"Don't move," she whispered, digging a second knife into the inch of skin just above his kidneys, so he wouldn't get any foolish ideas. His hands looked normal; his face held no metallic gleam of implants. Not enhanced, thank God. "You hurt my friend, and I'll slit you a smile from ear to ear."
