thing under his
jacket, and when he jumped at Hope, she was too slow. His hand came up for the
gun. Rather than letting him have it, Hope made her fingers go loose and the
gun fell to the floor with a clatter. Hope made a split-second executive
decision and kicked it out of the way, counting on her superior speed if push
came to shove.
Ninja
obviously thought he had the upper hand now; he bared his teeth in a smile.
Hope leapt back out of his grip and away from the reach of his knife. But not
too far.
There
was a moment where the guy obviously almost paused, his gaze raking over her
body like it had a right to be there. Hope gritted her teeth and tensed her
muscles.
“Slut,”
the guy said, an expectant kind of sneer on his face.
Hope
rolled her eyes. “I’m as pure as the driven snow,” she told him.
Bless
him, the baddie actually looked surprised as he blinked and asked, “Are you?”
Well,
he started to ask it - in the middle of his distraction Hope kicked out a foot,
hooked his leg, and threw him off his feet. His head hit the edge of the floor
right where the carpet ended.
“Like
it matters,” she told his unconscious body. The stone floor was probably not
doctor recommended for craniums. She couldn’t hold back a tiny grin. Morons
always thought that commenting on her sexual experience, or lack thereof, would
distract her. And somehow it almost always worked the other way around.
She
tugged a zip-tie out of her back pocket and handcuffed the guy’s hands behind
his back after doing a quick frisk for any other weapons or identification.
None, of course, and Hope blew out a frustrated sigh before straightening up
and pulling her still irritatingly tiny cell phone out of another pocket.
She
dialed a number that still wasn’t familiar to her yet in this country and put
the phone to her ear.
“Hello,
police?”
Hope
dropped into the dark tunnel and jogged down its length, making sure her
footsteps echoed loudly.
“It’s
me,” she called before she stepped into the light. “So no shooting or lasering
or whatever else you have stashed down here.”
As soon
as she took that step forward and blinked against the sudden brightness, Rick
was there, all tightly restrained energy and big hands running down her arms
and concerned eyes so close to her own.
“Are
you okay?” he asked, sounding bewilderingly worried. About her? Hope almost
laughed, not mocking, just unsure of what to say.
“Of
course,” she nodded and took a step back, feeling more unsure in this moment
than she had been in the midst of the fight. “Everything’s fine, the threat is
taken care of, but we need to get you upstairs before the police come. Unless
you want them to find this place…”
Rick
didn’t stop touching her, but those words did seem to make him pause and
consider. He took a cursory look around the lab and nodded sharply. His hand
settled into a hold around her wrist again. Hope found that she didn’t really
mind.
“Fair
enough,” he said, though the words were tense. “Lead on.”
It was
right then that Rick Stone seemed perfect to her - not on his million dollar
yacht, but here, where he was uncertain and upset and probably angry, but still
listening to her. Still quick and competent even under pressure. Hope couldn’t
hold back a single brilliant smile at him before she dove forward into the
tunnel, using his own grip around her wrist to pull him along in her wake.
“Holy
Christ,” Rick said, sounding somewhere between amazed and amused. “You’re
enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Hope
hmm-ed and made him go up the ladder first.
“Not
this, precisely. Just - I like knowing what I’m supposed to do, and then doing
it. When your means meet your needs. It’s - good.” She almost laughed and shook
her head at herself. Rick’s poetic streak was rubbing off, clearly.
Rick
knelt down on his haunches and watched her emerge through the top of the
trapdoor. His expression was
jacket, and when he jumped at Hope, she was too slow. His hand came up for the
gun. Rather than letting him have it, Hope made her fingers go loose and the
gun fell to the floor with a clatter. Hope made a split-second executive
decision and kicked it out of the way, counting on her superior speed if push
came to shove.
Ninja
obviously thought he had the upper hand now; he bared his teeth in a smile.
Hope leapt back out of his grip and away from the reach of his knife. But not
too far.
There
was a moment where the guy obviously almost paused, his gaze raking over her
body like it had a right to be there. Hope gritted her teeth and tensed her
muscles.
“Slut,”
the guy said, an expectant kind of sneer on his face.
Hope
rolled her eyes. “I’m as pure as the driven snow,” she told him.
Bless
him, the baddie actually looked surprised as he blinked and asked, “Are you?”
Well,
he started to ask it - in the middle of his distraction Hope kicked out a foot,
hooked his leg, and threw him off his feet. His head hit the edge of the floor
right where the carpet ended.
“Like
it matters,” she told his unconscious body. The stone floor was probably not
doctor recommended for craniums. She couldn’t hold back a tiny grin. Morons
always thought that commenting on her sexual experience, or lack thereof, would
distract her. And somehow it almost always worked the other way around.
She
tugged a zip-tie out of her back pocket and handcuffed the guy’s hands behind
his back after doing a quick frisk for any other weapons or identification.
None, of course, and Hope blew out a frustrated sigh before straightening up
and pulling her still irritatingly tiny cell phone out of another pocket.
She
dialed a number that still wasn’t familiar to her yet in this country and put
the phone to her ear.
“Hello,
police?”
Hope
dropped into the dark tunnel and jogged down its length, making sure her
footsteps echoed loudly.
“It’s
me,” she called before she stepped into the light. “So no shooting or lasering
or whatever else you have stashed down here.”
As soon
as she took that step forward and blinked against the sudden brightness, Rick
was there, all tightly restrained energy and big hands running down her arms
and concerned eyes so close to her own.
“Are
you okay?” he asked, sounding bewilderingly worried. About her? Hope almost
laughed, not mocking, just unsure of what to say.
“Of
course,” she nodded and took a step back, feeling more unsure in this moment
than she had been in the midst of the fight. “Everything’s fine, the threat is
taken care of, but we need to get you upstairs before the police come. Unless
you want them to find this place…”
Rick
didn’t stop touching her, but those words did seem to make him pause and
consider. He took a cursory look around the lab and nodded sharply. His hand
settled into a hold around her wrist again. Hope found that she didn’t really
mind.
“Fair
enough,” he said, though the words were tense. “Lead on.”
It was
right then that Rick Stone seemed perfect to her - not on his million dollar
yacht, but here, where he was uncertain and upset and probably angry, but still
listening to her. Still quick and competent even under pressure. Hope couldn’t
hold back a single brilliant smile at him before she dove forward into the
tunnel, using his own grip around her wrist to pull him along in her wake.
“Holy
Christ,” Rick said, sounding somewhere between amazed and amused. “You’re
enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Hope
hmm-ed and made him go up the ladder first.
“Not
this, precisely. Just - I like knowing what I’m supposed to do, and then doing
it. When your means meet your needs. It’s - good.” She almost laughed and shook
her head at herself. Rick’s poetic streak was rubbing off, clearly.
Rick
knelt down on his haunches and watched her emerge through the top of the
trapdoor. His expression was
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