Page 91 of Rogue Mission
His gaze flicks to her, something ugly flashing in his eyes. “I don’t?—”
“Lie to me again, and I stop being nice.”
“This is nice?” He laughs, bitter, nostrils flared as he pants. “You’re breaking into my home, assaulting me?—”
“You mean like your people assaulted her? Kidnapped her? Tried to kill her?” My voice drops to a growl. “Don’t talk to me about assault.”
Rosalie steps forward, and Parson’s focus narrows on her.
“You should’ve stayed away from that mineral sample,” he says, almost conversational. “None of this had to happen.”
“Mineral, huh? What’s in the soil?” she asks, calm as if we’re in a boardroom.
He smiles and my skin shrinks, cold crackling beneath the surface.
“Nothing you’ll live long enough to prove.”
Bastard. I tighten my grip. “That’s the wrong thing to say.”
Ryker moves to the desk, pulling out zip ties. “Secure him with his own ties for shits and giggles. We’re taking him with us.”
Parson’s eyes widen. “You can’t?—”
“Watch us,” Ryker says, a dark laugh matching the dangerous glint in his eyes.
But before Ryker can reach him, Parson’s hand darts toward his pocket.
I react on instinct, wrenching his arm back. Something hits the floor—a second phone. The screen lights up with an active call.
“Dammit,” Ryker curses.
On the other end of the line, a voice I don’t recognize: “Parson? Can you hear me?”
I crush the phone under my boot, but the damage is done.
“Someone knows we’re here,” Ryker says grimly.
Rosalie’s face pales as she backs toward the door. “How long do we have?”
“Not long.” I haul Parson up from the chair. “We move. Now.”
But as we hit the stairs, headlights sweep across the front windows.
Two vehicles. Blacked out. Moving fast. Loaded with God knows how many operators.
“Rear door off the kitchen. Leads to the backyard,” Ryker says, taking the lead.
“Go,” I tell them, and the minute they’re out the door, I knock him out cold, dragging him over my shoulder.
They’re halfway down the stairs. I’m at the top when the front door explodes inward.
THIRTY-FOUR
This is not running. This is falling.
Gravel bites into my palms as I hit the ground behind a decorative fountain in Parson’s backyard. Oh my god.
My heart’s trying to punch through my ribs.
