Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) by Evie Mitchell (short story to read .txt) 📗

to me and then back to Sawyer, who had dropped the pen and was now leaning forward. “All of your records. They targeted you.”

“My client records?”

He nodded. “All of them. That’s why they took your dummies. They were after anything with your fingerprints.”

I closed my eyes. Dread, guilt, and fear danced like angry bees in my gut. Anxiety hit as they started talking options.

“We need to lock her down.” Brean frowned.

“They’ve blown our deniability.” Pax agreed. “This is overt. We haven’t reacted the way they expected. They obviously think Emmie didn’t know. They’re stepping up. They’ll be watching to see what we do.”

“Do we keep them on the back foot? Throw them off the scent?” Jarrett suggested. “Maybe mount our own counter?”

“The thing that doesn’t make sense to me is why they’re warning her off?” Luc tapped the pictures. “They’re tipping us off. Why not just kidnap her if they know where she is?”

No one had an answer.

“Good question but there’s a bigger issue.” Sawyer gestured at the briefing material. “When I got here and saw the print out, I called in some favours. Page eighteen.”

We all flipped to the page. “That’s images from the last three days, each spaced three hours apart.”

The compound images showed no change. Three cars sat unmoved; there were no heat signatures.

“Page nineteen, it has the proceeding three days.”

Cars, people, movement. Heat signatures. Lots of them.

There was a long silence as we all processed. My heart thumped loudly in my chest. I opened my mouth to speak, finding myself suddenly incapable of making a sound. Fear overrode my rational brain.

They’ve abandoned The Front.

When I was small, one of my older brothers had found some rope. We’d been playing in the bush. He’d suggested we play cops and robbers. I, of course, was the robber. He’d hauled me up, throwing me against a tree and roughly tying me to it. The rope squeezed my chest tightly. I’d tried to scream, tried to tell him to stop, but all that had come out were gasping breaths as I struggled to breathe. I’d passed out at some point, awakening to find Abel standing over me, protecting me.

This was exactly what that felt like. My chest constricted, my ability to speak halted. I watched black squiggles dance in my periphery. I panted; air seemed to be a struggle. My fingers tingled and my legs felt weak.

Oh God.

“They’re gone.” Luc broke the silence.

“Yes,” Sawyer confirmed. “I alerted AFP. They’re sending a team to check it out today, but…” he trailed off.

This was planned. There was little chance of any evidence being found.

“Where are they likely to go?” Max asked.

Fuck.

“I need–” I shot to my feet, looking for an exit. “Bathroom.”

I ignored startled looks as I hurried from the room, Luc close on my heels.

“Emmie!”

I hit the hallway, turning towards the stairs. Fuck waiting for a lift, I needed out of here. I pulled out my pass, swiping through to the internal stairs, pounding up them, jumping two at a time, heedless of my protesting side or weak leg. I had one goal in mind, get the fuck out.

I headed for our locker room, swiping in. Inside, I ignored my own locker, instead heading for one at the back. Its door was dinted and had an out of order sign stuck to the front. It was always on the to-do-list, but no one had got around to it. I ripped off the sign, turning the handle. Inside were my bags, filled with all the things I would immediately need. T-shirts, jeans, underwear, water bottles, muesli bars. I pulled the big duffel, revealing the sealed envelope below. I ripped it open, contents tipping into my hand. Fake IDs, cash, road maps. Nothing they could track. Nothing that would lead them to me.

No trace.

I dumped the items in the pack and lifted, swinging it onto my shoulder as I turned.

Luc.

He stood in the doorway. His eyes, his gorgeous blue eyes, gut wrenchingly furious as he stared at me, arms crossed, blocking the door.

“What the fuck, Emmie?”

“I…” The panic threatened to engulf.

“You?” he snapped.

“I’m leaving.”

He glared.

“I need to go.”

“You need to go?” he repeated.

“Yes.” I nodded emphatically.

“Because of today?”

“Yes.”

“Because of one setback?”

I cracked. “It’s not a setback, Luc! They’ve disappeared! You heard them.” I dropped the bag, my hands flying about as I lost control. “The whole group has fucking gone. They’re on the move, Luc. They’re on their way. I know it. You know it. Everyone sitting in that room knew it. You think this is a mess now? Wait until they fucking get here!”

His eyes narrowed. “Life is messy, Em. You think we all get to pack up and run ‘cause shit gets hard?”

“You haven’t walked in my shoes, Luc.” I stabbed a finger at him. “You don’t get a say.”

He dropped his hands. “No. No, I don’t. ’Cause you won’t fucking let me speak. This is a relationship. Not a fucking dictatorship. I love you. You love me. Doesn’t mean life is a stroll.”

“I need–”

“Me. You need me.”

I shook my head, desperate not to listen. “I need to go.” I tried to push past him; he threw out his arms, blocking my exit.

“No. Not again. This is your battleground. Here. Now.”

“I’m not a fighter, Luc.” I tried to make him understand. “I run. It’s the only way to stay safe.”

“What utter fucking bullshit. You are a fighter. I know it. Your friends know it. I look at you, and I see you fighting every single day. You do it by living your life. That’s your big fuck you to them.”

“My half life? The life I thought I wanted? The life I’d happily dump and run? That life? Do you get it, Luc? Is it making sense? Are you clued in? I leave. I don’t stay. I pack my shit and I get the fuck out.”

“Emmie –” He tried to reach for me. I spun, frantically dancing away from him.

“No, it’s my turn now! You changed this.” I pressed a hand to