Page 15 of Rogue Mission
"So," I begin when I find my missing voice.
Only she shocks me once again when she grabs the door handle and bolts into the hallway at a dead sprint.
No. She didn’t.
A few seconds pass before I unstick my boots from the tile.
Those seconds cost me. My brain is still rebooting from the impact, from her scent, from the soft press of her body against mine.
SEALs are trained to compartmentalize, but apparently my dick didn't get the memo.
She's already got a five-second lead when I slam into the corridor after her, my legs finally remembering how to work.
"You forgot your shoes," I call in her wake, patting the cargo pocket where I stuffed them.
She looks back over her shoulder, eyes wide, hair whipping, a squeaky little noise escaping her lips.
"You've gotta be kidding me," I mutter as I chase a half-dressed woman down a hallway with her little black shoes in my cargo pocket.
That's when the building goes completely dark.
SIX
Oh my god. I can’t see anything!
Pounding footfalls behind me make my skin turn into shrink wrap. “Leave me alone!” I pant.
When I think all is lost, a red light flickers like a lighthouse in the night. The Exit sign.
“Rosalie!” he growls, tone filled with command. “For fuck's sake, stop before you break your neck.”
Wait…how does he knowmyname?
I'm not stopping to find out.
The seams on my skirt are popping left and right. I don't know how many threads it's got left to go, but the opening's getting bigger.
The upside is the new fit is letting my legs go longer.
Flo-Jo would be proud of me. I'm hitting my stride.
I've never run so fast in my life. That's not saying much.
This girl runs from the ventilation hood to the centrifuge in my practical slip-ons. Amazing what thinking you're gonna die can do.
I steal another glance backward, a startled gasp ripping out of me when his dark form materializes way too close. Oh my god!
He's fast. And gigantic and really fit, not like the creep from earlier. I could have outrun him for sure.
But this is nuts.
I just need to get to the stairwell.
As if he can't chase me down the stairs. Only my very rattled brain fixates on this idea. Stairs equal escape!
James Bond would do that, right? He'd slide down the railing.
God. Yeah, that sounds like a really bad idea.
