Masked (14 page)

She also happened to flirt with Roman – non-stop. Not that it bothered Bridgette, because really, she didn’t care who flirted with Roman. It was just annoying to watch. The laughing, the flipping of the hair, the constant touching of his arms…it was too much. So Bridgette decided it was just easier if she stayed out of the way. It wasn’t like Roman seemed to notice. He was too busy giving all his attention to Miss Perfect.

Bridgette stared at her reflection in the mirror, pushing thoughts of Eve away. So what if Roman liked her? If Bridgette was being honest with herself, it made perfect sense. Eve was one of those women who were always so put together and attractive, it was only reasonable for any man to be drawn to her. Especially if she was interested, which she clearly was in Roman. One would have to be blind not to see that the other woman wanted the second in command.

Bridgette started to comb out the tangles of her wet hair vigorously. She was not angry or jealous, she reminded herself. Roman was off limits. She was only there to complete her task and get back to her sister. So why did she feel sick every time she pictured the two of them together? Why did she wish it was
her
he was paying attention to, and not Eve?

“I need to get out of here,” she said to her reflection. Today she’d go down to the basement and scout out where to place the bomb. The arms dealers were set to arrive any day, according to Ludwig. They were keeping an unpredictable flight schedule just to be safe. Bridgette got the impression Ludwig, Sal and the rest of the New World order were way more edgy than any of the lowers she knew.

A knock on the door had her scurrying to pull the dreaded mask over her face, causing her wet hair to stick to the back of her neck uncomfortably. When she pulled open the door, her breath came out in a loud whoosh at the sight of Roman standing there, dressed in only his black cargo pants. Sculpted, olive skin filled her vision as she blinked slowly. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Bridgette gave her a head a shake before raising her eyes to meet his. He was watching her closely, his face set in a serious expression she couldn’t quite read.

“Y-yes?” she said, clearing the hoarseness from her voice.

“The way you’re looking at me could give a man ideas, Lottey,” he replied in a husky voice.

If only, she thought. Forcing herself to look relaxed, she leaned a shoulder against the doorway, crossing her arms over her chest while rolling her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she scoffed. “I was just surprised to see you. Anyone tell you they made these things called shirts? You might want to get yourself one.” Seriously. Before she melted in front of him. Someone get the man a shirt!

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Uh huh, sure,” he teased. “I just came by to see if you wanted to train for an hour or so.”

Bridgette looked left and right down the hall. “Where’s your little pet?” Alarm bells starting ringing in her head. She
did not
just say that. Could she sound any more jealous?

He actually had the nerve to chuckle. “If you’re referring to Eve,” he said, fighting off a grin, “she’s gone over to the warehouse to check on some new arrivals.”

“So you thought you’d come find me?”
Bridgette Hatcher
! She scolded herself. Her mouth suddenly had a mind of its own.

“Yeah,” he said simply.

“Wow. Don’t I feel special.” She turned to pull on her boots, trying her best to appear calm and casual. At least her bitchy attitude wouldn’t look abnormal, considering Charlotte would probably have acted the same way if she were here. Except she wouldn’t be doing it because she was jealous of this man and another woman, her inner voice pointed out. Whatever, she thought. Bridgette was always the nice sister. Once in a while she was allowed to act prickly. It was just unfortunate for Roman that he was the one on the other end of it at the present moment.

They walked down the hall side by side, their shoulders brushing. For whatever reason, Bridgette didn’t increase the space between them, even though she knew she should.

“You’ve been hiding away in that room a lot lately,” Roman commented, breaking the silence.

“Have I?” she replied, playing dumb.

He chuckled. “You wouldn’t be avoiding a certain visitor, would you?”

“Not at all,” she said. Her newly found inner Charlotte had to have the last word, however. “I just happen to be allergic to giggling.”

He stopped, forcing her to follow suit. His expression was serious as they face each other. “One would think you’re slightly jealous,” he said, his voice dropping lower.

“What would I have to be jealous of?” she asked.

Pounding footsteps approached them bursting their private bubble.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the soldier said, his voice coming out quickly. He must have ran the entire way, Bridgette thought. “There’s been an explosion.”

“What?” they both said in unison.

“Where?” Roman asked.

“At the warehouse.”

“Shit!” Roman took a few steps back, running his hands through his hair. Then he froze, the colour draining from his face. “Eve just went over there.”

Crap. Bridgette might dislike the girl, but she wouldn’t wish harm on anyone. Well, maybe her father, she thought.

“We better go,” she said, turning to walk quickly down the rest of the hall. What did she plan to do to exactly? She wondered. Bridgette was slowly growing so accustomed to her new, fake position as Weapon X, that she hadn’t even thought twice about going out and seeing the scene of the explosion. Normally she would have tried to hide and ignore it. Head down, blinders on. That had been her way of life for so long, it surprised her that she was jumping to the rescue now at the first sign of trouble. It made her wonder if this change in her life was affecting her in a positive way, or a negative one.

The elevator doors were being held open by another soldier when they reached it. Roman rushed into the elevator behind him, his body all but shaking with energy. She gave him a quick once over, before looking ahead. “You might want to put on a shirt.”

Utter chaos, she thought as she looked at the now burning building. Massive debris from the building littered the street. Glass from the windows sparkled along the pavement like crystalized droplets of snow. Soldiers stood on the other side of the street, watching as the fire continued to burn. There wasn’t much they could do until the flames were under control.

Bridgette exited the SUV, the heat from the fire hitting her in the face the moment she did. It was difficult to take a deep breath with all the smoke in the air. “This is bad,” she said to herself.

“There’s an understatement,” Roman said, coming up to stand beside her. “Has anyone checked to see if people were inside when the explosion went off?” he asked someone else.

“No, sir. We haven’t entered the building, and if there was anyone inside, they haven’t made contact.”

Probably because they were dead, Bridgette thought with a heavy heart.

“There was a group of ten men who came by with Miss Greystone,” another man said. Bridgette figured he was referring to Eve.

“Are they all accounted for?” Roman asked.

The man shook his head once.

A loud crack came before another window blew outward from the intense heat, spraying them with tiny shards of glass. Bridgette ducked just as she felt Roman cover her body with his. They waited a second before straightening again.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes roaming over her frantically. He raised his hand, picking off bits of glass that stuck to her shoulders.

“I’m fine,” she said, reaching up to grab a shard from his hair. The strands were soft and silky against her skin. When their eyes met, her hand still twined in his locks, it felt like they were once more in that little bubble that seemed to encase them in these stolen moments.

“Stay out here and away from the building in case that happens again,” he said.

“Where are you going?” she asked, panic rising in her chest.

“I’m going inside to look for them,” he answered. “The guns were in the basement. I’m hoping they were able to lock all the safety doors put in place. Hopefully the steel kept out most of the fire.”

“You can’t go in there!” she argued. “The damn thing is still burning. And what if it collapses?” Her hand dropped to his shoulder, gripping the firm muscle there.

“I have ten men in there, plus a woman who a certain ally of ours would be severely pissed about if he found out she was dead. I can’t stand out here and wait for the fire to burn out. They could be dead by then from the smoke alone.”

She balked, stammering for something to say that would reach through his thick skull. “So you’re just going to risk your own life for the small chance those people inside there have survived? That’s madness!”

“They’re
my men
in there, Lottey. I don’t turn my back on what is mine, no matter the risk. I’d do the same for you.”

She was left speechless, not that he gave her the opportunity to reply as he turned and jogged away, shouting out orders to a small group of soldiers.

“You okay here, X?” the soldier who was still standing beside her asked. She hadn’t even noticed him there that entire time.

Bridgette nodded. “I’m fine. Go on and help him.” He gave her a quick nod before joining Roman’s search party.

Standing there, watching Roman walk into a blazing building with those purposeful, confident strides, like even flames wouldn’t be able to touch him, was probably the worst moment of her life. Part of her wanted to run in there after him. The other part wanted to cheer him on, awestruck by the dedication he showed to looking after his men. Roman Adamson had more heart than he let on, and Bridgette was finally beginning to see it. Knowing he might not come back out made her sick to her stomach.

“Don’t let him die,” she whispered to whatever deity chose to listen.

Her eyes were trained on the entrance to the building where Roman and the others had disappeared into, so she didn’t notice the two figures who stepped up behind her until it was too late. Hands grasped her arms firmly, pulling her back toward an alleyway. Bridgette gasped in surprise.

“Don’t scream,” a man whispered.

Oh, she wouldn’t scream, Bridgette thought. But she sure as heck wasn’t going without a fight. She wrenched her arm out of the person’s grasp, spinning so she had their other arm still holding her wrapped around hers in a restraining hold. Then she slammed the palm of her hand into their nose eliciting a grunt and curse.

“What the –” the other figure said, who Bridgette discovered was female from their higher voice.

Bridgette stomped down on their foot hard enough for them to let go of her finally, just as the other person approached her, hands out non-threateningly. The man recovered fast, moving forward again, but Bridgette was ready, sweeping out her leg quickly, tripping him in his movement. He stumbled, cursing again.

“Bridge, stop,” he said, causing her to freeze at the familiarity. “It’s me, Seamus.”

“Seamus?” she gasped.

“Yeah,” he said wearily. “Thanks for almost breaking my nose.” Black masks covered their faces, but she recognized his voice.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Getting you out of here, what does it look like?”

“I can’t,” she argued. “My father has Charlotte.”

“We have her,” the girl said.

“We need to get you out of here before any one notices,” Seamus urged.

A loud crack sounded again just as another part of the building exploded. The three of them ducked instinctively. Bridgette turned to look at the building just as more pieces of it came crashing to the ground. Her heart stopped. Roman. She needed to get in there and make sure he was okay. Adrenaline pumped through her as she took a step toward the building.

“Bridge, come on!” Seamus yelled over the roaring of renewed flames.

“I can’t,” she said, disbelief at her own decisions running through her head. What was she doing? She wondered as she took another step forward. This was her chance to escape, and yet she knew in her heart that she wasn’t going to be leaving with them. She needed to go to Roman. Every bone in her body screamed for her to.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Seamus cried.

“What does she mean she can’t?” the girl mirrored.

Bridgette started to run, ignoring them as they called out to her. As if by some unknown force her eyes looked to the left down another alley, where she met bright blue eyes so similar to hers it was like a physical ache to see them watching her in confusion and horror. Her sister stayed hidden, but watched as Bridgette ran from those she’d sent to save her. There was no excuse she could offer even if it were possible through that one look.

Turning forward, she sped up, racing for the front entrance. Suddenly a sharp pain hit her arm. She stopped, looking down in bewilderment at the dart sticking out of her. She blinked slowly, her vision clouding over, the sounds of men and the burning building fading away into nothing but muffled fog. Her head rose, feeling heavy suddenly, as she looked around, everything suddenly moving in slow motion.

There was a weird roaring sound behind her, and then a quick scraping before two hands grabbed her roughly and pulled her back into a small space. Her body hit metal, voices called out instructions in loud, panicked voices, before that scraping sound came again and suddenly she was moving. She felt like she was floating. Black metal filled her vision as she looked up, her mind desperately trying to grasp what was going on. The voices around her were too muffled to understand, and her eyes kept closing on their own even though she demanded they stay open. She lost the fight, blackness washing over her, pulling her down into an abyss she tried to kick and fight her way out of. Then she was out.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Well that didn’t go as I expected,” Phoenix said when they were all gathered back at the house.

Charlotte paced the room, her hands shaking with rage. Someone – not them – had just come out of nowhere and grabbed her sister, throwing her into a black van before driving off. Charlotte could do nothing but watch in horror, knowing that if she stepped out from the alley the New World soldiers would see her. Even they couldn’t stop the van, despite shooting at it the entire time it was in sight. Useless tools.