I turned in a circle and felt the soft wind play with my hair. "The biggest threat is the long range perimeter," I said into my comms.
Subtly, I scanned the rooftops in that area, knowing my target's biggest threat came from snipers. "North 27° West."
"Light wind, a clear view, great exits," Liz said. That was all the confirmation I needed. I broke into a sprint, racing through the ever crowded Trafalgar Square, crushing people and mumbling apologies as I ran. "Liz, get him off the stage. Now!"
"Working on it," she said cooly, "I'll give them enough to shut down the White House."
"Liz, the White House is in…"
"Precisely," she interrupted.
"I hope you're joking," I skidded to a stop and glanced upwards, orientating myself.
"Mostly," Liz said as I set my sights on the building, noting the flash of sunlight reflected off the objective lens, a sign that our sharp shooter was packing up. The building in my sights, I sped down the quaint cobblestoned streets; three lefts, then a right. I pulled my gun from the waistband of my jeans as I rounded the last corner. "Don't move," I demanded. The young man dressed in black, politely rested his hands behind his head and turned. I nearly dropped my gun.
"Hey Bex."
"Grant?" I said hesitantly. "I haven't seen you since."
"Alaska," we said in unison.
"How ya been?" He asked cheekily. I rolled my eyes and strode towards him. "I should take you back to HQ."
"You can take me anywhere," he said with a wink. I couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of my throat and thrust my hand into his pockets, searching. I ignored the way his abs tensed when he let out that deep laugh of his. I retrieved a pair of comms from his pocket. Triumphantly, I held them up. "Such an amateur mistake darling," I taunted.
With a shrug and a smirk he said, "I figured my captor was pretty harmless."
Daringly, I loaded my gun and raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" I said and fired. Gulping, Grant raised those distractingly delicious chocolate brown eyes from his severed shoe lace and they met mine. "Not bad for a girl," he exhaled, hands still behind his neck as I stuck my tongue out at him.
"Jonas," I said into Grant's comms, "I know exactly where you are." I waved towards the rooftop internet café, across the street and down half a block. "Come down here, or some bad things will happen to you friend here."
"I like the sound of that," Grant growled in my ear. I ignored the shiver that tickled my spine, sending my senses into overdrive.
"I didn't say you could move." He shrugged.
"We need him alive Grant," I said, refocusing on the matter at hand.
"Well he is still alive is he not?" Grant pointed out sarcastically.
"Who ordered the hit," I said poking his impossibly hard chest. He beckoned me close with a bent finger, and whispered in my ear, "Client confidentiality."
I glared at him, daring him to ignore me.
"One of the good guys," Grant relented. "If you can take him in alive, I won't complete the mission."
"Thanks," I said sincerely.
"We're not all bad Bex."
"I know," I replied, lifting my gaze from my shadow and meeting his annoyingly magnetic eyes.
"Oopsy Daisies."
Down the end of the alley, lay a sprawled and scraped Liz, who it appeared, had tripped over a cobblestone getting out of the oddly misplaced stretch limo. Sighing, I reprimanded her, "Did I say you could come down yet?"
"Well, no. But you have the situation under control, and they won't hurt us," she said, peeling herself off the street.
"You don't know that Liz," I said softly. "Don't ever do that again ok?"
Liz nodded ending the conversation.
"So did you come up with an extraction plan?" I asked her.
"Yep. His new security detail is set to pick him up from the Charing Cross Hotel in 7minutes, and take him to dinner."
"And?" I prompted.
"His new security detail looks a bit like you two. Ok, exactly like you two," Liz revealed giddily.
"I'm driving," Jonas stated, entering the alley and pointing at the luxury car.
"Jonas!" Liz exclaimed, striding towards him and consequently tripping over herself and landing in his arms. "I mean…Hi" she said.
"Hi."
An awkward silence descended over us, like the sun. I cleared my throat, and Liz begrudgingly removed herself from Jonas' embrace.
"Lets go," Grant commanded, throwing Jonas the keys.
"Hey!" I said, patting my pockets. Grant just winked at me as he climbed into the backseat of the limousine. Grumbling I followed.
Minutes later, we pulled up in front of the hotel. Exchanging a small smile, Grant and I climbed out of the car and entered the lobby. "We're here for Minister Gray Powell," I spoke in my native accent.
"Here he is now," the receptionist said, gesturing to the stairs.
"Brilliant," I replied.
"Thanks," Grant told her, imitating my accent.
"Four out of ten," I whispered as we waited for the Minister to approach us.
"You're late," Gray snapped.
"Sorry Sir," I said, taking his arm and leading him towards the car.
"It won't happen again," Grant smiled a knowing twinkle in his eye. We exited the lobby, and clambered into the car. I heard Liz locked the door, smiled, and reclined, meeting Grant's gaze in the reflective glass, separating us from the driver's compartment.
"Where are we going for dinner," Gray demanded to know.
"How does MI6 HQ sound?" I said with a grin.
"So he was funding offshore terrorist campaigns on London?"
"Yep," I replied grimly. "Good thing I didn't let you shoot him. We needed that intel."
"Are you going to let me do this?" he questioned mischievously, disregarding my jab and leaning in. And surprisingly, I did. Our lips hugged, our tongues danced. "I missed you," he breathed into my mouth. I continued kissing him, content on being in his arms and knowing there was one less bad guy out there tonight.