Page 15 of Tempted By Poison
My heart begins to throb into my throat, the anticipation getting me excited for what's to come. What will I do when we approach him?Kill him, of course! He needs to be ridden of this earth.
We make it to the end hall, our backs propped against the wall that cuts off to the corner. I’m at the front, so I peel around, only enough to where my eye gets a view of everything.
I made it in time to see him unlock a door and walk inside. I lay back flat. “He went inside a room, fourth door to the left. It seems like he used a hand scanner to enter.”
“Then, we’ll just do it the old-fashioned way.”
I raise my brows at him, thrill sprouting like a bouncy spring. “Oh, what’s that? We explode the door.”
Ronan’s eyes gleam mischievously. “If only I had an explosive on me. But no, we knock,” he grumbles, turning his head both directions.
I snicker. “That's less fun.” Not what I had in mind, but then again, I had no other choices.
“Mal. Boone. I’m going to need you two to keep as many guards from coming to the room. Create a distraction,” Ronan orders in the earpiece.
Static comes through my earpiece as well. “No problem. Distraction is my middle name.”
I cringe at the cliché catchphrase. It’s a disaster. I look at Ronan who looks back at me, shutting his eyes for a moment and shaking his head stiffly.
“That's Mal,” I mumble under my breath, looking away to spot anyone coming.
“Let's go,” he says, reaching behind his back. I nod slowly as we both move around the corner, our steps light and inaudible. Thank God for the runner going through the hall. My heartbeat dwindles, and my normal jittery dissipates once we approach the door. Ronan has already drawn his weapon.
I frown at his gun as I slide out my dagger. “How’d you sneak that in?”
His lips curls to the side. “It's not mine.” Now I see what he was doing while he was gone. It sucks that I missed it. He nods at my hand. “And you?”
I smirk. “They didn't pat below the waist.” Which was quite risky, but I go nowhere without my dagger.
His eyes darken and his smile drops. “They still got the privilege to touch you.”
Heat flushes over my cheeks, and before I can respond, Ronan raises his arms, aiming the pistol at the door. His stance measured and ready as he tilts his head slightly to get a reliable shot.
“We don’t kill him until we know what he’s up to,” Ronan speaks low.
I nod in understanding. I go to knock against the door. Each tap fires a bolt of electricity through my arm.
Three.
Two.
...
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