Page 93 of Duty Compromised
My blood turned to ice. Ty had been afraid it would escalate to that. But evidently, it had started as that.
“But I convinced them otherwise,” Darcy continued, and there was something almost like pride in her voice. “I told them Charlotte Gifford’s mind was too valuable to waste. You’re worth more than any weapon, Charlotte. The person who can create the next Cascade Protocol, and the next one after that. Years of breakthrough weapons, each one more powerful than the last.”
“I’d never?—”
“You’d be surprised what people will do with the right motivation.” Her tone turned practical, businesslike. “My partners aren’t going to be happy that you’ve already initialized the stabilizer code. They have tempers, and they’re not the most reasonable people. But I’m fairly certain I can keep you alive. Probably.”
She paused, and something darker crept into her expression.
“Your boyfriend and his team of heroes, though? Because the second I found you here, I knew that whoever is pretending to be a buyer in that warehouse has to be undercover—Ty’s people or FBI or both—and they’re definitely not making it out alive.”
“No—”
“Oh yes. My partners’ team is probably already moving into position. The moment your fake buyer tries to leave with the Protocol, or the moment FBI agents move in, it’s going to be a bloodbath.”
I couldn’t breathe. Ty and Ethan, all of the Citadel team, were in the middle of a trap because of me, because I’d trusted the wrong person, because I’d been so desperate for a friend that I’d ignored every instinct?—
I had to warn them. Had to get to the comms unit.
I turned and ran.
Or tried to.
One of Darcy’s men moved faster than I could track, catching me before I’d made it two steps. His hand tangled in my hair, yanking me backward with enough force to make me see stars. Then he slammed me face first into the wall.
Pain exploded across my vision, white-hot and disorienting. I tasted copper—blood from where I’d bitten my tongue. The room spun as he pulled me back, his grip still twisted in my hair.
“Pack it up,” Darcy ordered, gesturing at my laptop with her gun. “Everything. And, Charlotte? Don’t try anything clever. You might be irreplaceable, but that doesn’t mean I won’t put a bullet in your knee if you make this difficult.”
With shaking hands, I closed the laptop, coiled the cables, packed everything into the case I’d brought. The stabilizer code, all my work, now in the hands of someone who would sell it—and me—to the highest bidder.
“Good girl,” Darcy said with mock approval. “Now, let’s go meet my partners. I’m sure they’ll be eager to discuss your future contributions to our organization.”
The man holding me shoved me toward the door. As we passed Donovan, I tried to see if he was breathing, tried to spot any sign of life.
Nothing.
We moved down the hallway, Darcy’s men flanking me with their weapons drawn. Behind us, Darcy followed at a casual pace, as if we were heading to lunch instead of marching toward a warehouse full of killers.
Every step took me closer to whatever trap Darcy and her partners had set—and further from any chance of warning Ty about what was coming.
Chapter 28
Ty
This was almost over.
The relief I’d felt a few minutes ago when Charlotte’s quiet voice came through the comms—“Deployment complete”—had been staggering. She’d done it. Not that I’d truly had any doubts.
Now it was just a matter of taking them down. George and his guys would be moving in soon. They just wanted everything recorded first, every word these bastards said catalogued for the prosecutors who’d eventually put them away for life.
I wanted them to hurry the hell up. The sooner this was done, the sooner I could take Charlotte to a beach somewhere. Maybe Key West. Find some little place with white sand and blue water and not let her out of bed for a week. When I finally did let her up, it would only be to see her in a bikini, watch her brilliant mind finally shut off and just exist without equations or protocols or psychopaths trying to weaponize her work.
I turned my focus back to the mission. The warehouse was exactly what you’d expect for an arms deal—abandoned, half the windows broken, rust bleeding down the corrugated metal walls like old wounds. The kind of place where bad things happened and nobody asked questions.
Ethan was doing great, not that I’d expected anything less. He stood in the center of the main floor, talking to the three sellers like they were discussing baseball scores instead of weapons that could kill unknown numbers of people at the push of a button. His body language was relaxed, casual. Just another day at the office for the head of Citadel Solutions.
“The demonstration will exceed your expectations,” one of the sellers was saying. Mid-forties, Eastern European accent, the kind of dead eyes that said he’d watched people die and ordered lunch right after. “The Cascade Protocol represents the future of targeted elimination.”
