Bridge pulled me to a sitting position, and I dragged in slow, steady breaths. "Fuck, that hurts."
"Is it actually pain or tingles?”
I groaned. "I guess more tingles. My teeth, God, they feel awful."
"Yeah, that's a lot of voltage. I think you should get checked out by the doc."
I shook my head. "I'll have the staff doctor come to the penthouse. I'm sure it's fine, but fuck me, who was that woman?"
"Well, you’re the one who went after her. And you caught her. She didn't tell you anything?"
I studied my friend in the darkness, the moonlight making his jet-black hair appear slightly bluish. I opened my palm, displaying the SD card I'd stolen out of the camera. "I am Elite, remember? I have some tricks up my sleeve."
Bridge squatted down next to me and took the SD card out of my hand, studying it. "How long will it take before she finds out her SD card is missing?"
"I'm not sure, but it could be a day. But I’m sure that I'll have everything off of that thing tonight."
"Of course, you will."
I glanced around, staring into the darkness, wondering if she had turned back to watch her theoretical kill.
"I don't know who you are princess, but I will find out, and then you and I are going to have a very long chat about why you don't tase strangers."
Nyla
My legs ached. My lungs burned. But still, I forced my arms to keep pumping.
If your arms moved quickly, then your legs moved quickly. Neural coupling, right? It was some long-ago advice from a running coach, but I was going to rely on it to survive.
I’d miscalculated. I’d thought tonight would be easy. I should have probably predicted this outcome. I just didn’t want it to be a failure.
You almost got caught.
Run. Run. Run. Run.
I darted down an alleyway despite the lack of illumination. I could only hope nothing unseen waited to trip me. The safe passage was on the other side. Amelia had a car waiting, and all I had to do was make it to her.
I didn’t hear footsteps behind me. I didn’t hear anyone chasing after me. I didn’t know if they were giving chase, or if they were coming, but that one guy… Hale. East bloody Hale. He had followed me out of the restaurant.
The real question was if he’d recognized me or not. No one should have. The disguise I’d worn was a good one. My partner, Amelia, was a whiz with prosthetics.
I kept going but slowed my steps as I stripped off the black hoodie I’d been wearing, pulling the arms through and reversing it so the red inner lining became the outer layer. I thrust my arms into the sleeves again and snapped it on. As I sped up again, I spat out the filaments used to plump out my cheeks. Then I peeled off the latex I’d used to fashion a nose for myself and tossed it at the nearest bin.
I yanked the wig off my head and shoved it in my pocket because I didn’t want to leave it where it might be found.
Listen, no one is following you.
I wasn’t dumb enough to believe that. I’d been trained too well. I knew someone could be following whether I detected them or not. I knew it wasn’t safe to stop and check my clothing. I might have been tagged with a listening device even as I ran.
The dark alleyway narrowed between the Marks and Sparks and the Cock and Crow pub, the late-night revelers and bustling traffic noise shielded by the buildings. Christ, I wanted to take a breather.
No! Don’t stop. Rest later.
This was my I-shat-the-bed egress route, and I needed to stick to the plan.
I ran and ignored the pounding of my heart, the screaming of my lungs, the weight in my legs. Ignore it, just run. Safety first. Worry later.
I raced to the end of the alley, not even looking around me to see what might be waiting for me. Everything posed potential danger. Getting my body safe was the first thing I needed to do. My kidney ached from where I’d taken the hit. My shoulder throbbed from where I’d fallen. But I’d catalog the injuries and worry about those consequences later.
My partner, Amelia Jansen, jerked her head up as I stumbled into the car. “Jesus fucking Christ, Nyla, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Drive,” I managed to grind out.
In a flash, the MINI Cooper’s tires spun, and then she shifted like a Formula One driver, swerving into traffic. Fighting the burn in my lungs and panting as I spoke, I gasped, “I think I was followed.”
Amelia’s eyes went wide. “You’re serious?”
I groaned. “Unfortunately.” Then I put my finger to my lips, indicating she should be quiet as I peeled off my jacket and then flung it out the window as we passed a bin.
My tank top went next as I tugged it over my head and pitched it, then I contorted and shimmied out of the black stretch bottoms I’d worn. Amelia rapidly blinked over at me, but she kept swerving like she was auditioning for The Italian Job.
I kept expecting to hear the shrill chirp of sirens, but there was nothing other than the bustle and honk of taxis, revelers and tourists.
Were we even being followed?
You can’t take that risk.
Amelia slowed as we approached an alley and in the dimness between two streetlamps, the rest of my clothes went out the window.
She lifted a brow and asked, ”Are you clear?”
I nodded. “I think so. Let me check the camera.”
Delicately, I ran my fingers over all the edges of the camera that I’d been using to take pictures. I looked for anything out of order, out of place. “I think we’re good. But let me just grab the SD card.”
She groaned. “Thank God that camera is intact. The requisition paperwork was going to be a nightmare.”
“I wish
