“Target Numbers Three and Four have just entered,” Otto says. “I’m on it.”
I press my mic button. “Stay on them.”
Turning my mic off, I inhale through my nose and try to quell the nervousness. My leg bounces against the steel floor,and Lachlan gives me a dark look before checking the security feed they set up days ago. The grainy images show off a luxurious dinner event with formal place settings and fancy gowns everywhere. Considering it was over a hundred thousand pounds per ticket, I’m fully expecting every food item to contain gold flecks.
“You’re probably fine to go in. It doesn’t seem like Hoeffler is there.”
I worry my lower lip. “He bought a VIP ticket. Why would he change his mind–”
A loud pop has me yelping, and it takes me a second to realize it was a gunshot.
“Fuck–” Lachlan grits out as his hand flies to his left arm. When he pulls his hand away a second later, there’s blood.
My skin goes cold as my eyes fly around wildly, and then I jump forward and attempt to open the door.
“It’s locked,” I hiss, pulling on it.
“No shit. I locked it. The key–in my pocket–”
I’m not thinking of the key, though. And it doesn’t matter if we never get the door open if Lachlan dies–fuck.
Compartmentalize, dammit!
I open my handbag with shaking hands, ready to call Kitt–our doctor on call–and Lachlan’s face only grows whiter.
“Charlotte,” he hisses. “Let the guys know and then get the key–”
“You need a doctor! I can’t just–”
Another pop has me crouching down. “Start the car,” Lachlan rasps out. “Spare key–in the console–”
My heart is racing at the sound of his ragged voice.
Please be okay… please be okay…
I climb over the seat, grabbing the keys we’d stored in the middle console. I’m just about to reach for my gun, but when I look up, my heart nearly stops.
Three men in suits are standing right in front of the van, holding guns aimed right at my head. One of them shoots the windshield, missing my head by a couple of inches but causing it to shatter.
My hands fly over my ears, and I glance back to make sure Lachlan is okay. He’s clutching his left arm and glaring at the men.
Still alive.
Think, Lottie, think–
“Hello,Charlotte,” one of them says.
It’s him.
Charlie Hoeffler.
How did he know–
We were so careful to hide the van away days in advance… to ensure there were no cameras–
“I need you both out of the car now, or I’ll blow the entire restaurant up, your friends included,” he says cheerfully. “Oh, and Helga says hi. You might know her by another name… does Cocoa ring a bell?”
CHAPTER 29
