Hyper Lynx (The Lynx Series Book 6) Fiona Quinn (the dot read aloud .txt) 📖

green uniform jacket. And without a moment’s hesitation, he aimed it at the back of London’s head and pulled the trigger.

BANG!

“Right? No monkey business. Just so you see the consequences.” He pressed his foot into London’s back, and she dropped from the dais to the floor.

The back of her hair was matted with blood.

Holy moly!

William Davidson passed out and was ignored.

People were vomiting and crying—the room filled with moans.

Axel and Randy came forward, looked the man in the eye, and wiggled a finger. I supposed to ask permission to move London to what was becoming a make-do morgue.

The MC gave them a nod.

Axel turned to the women in our party who were seated at the table where I’d left my purse. My phone was in there.

Helpful?

It didn’t matter. None of the women scooped it up. It was left there next to my plate of untouched hors d’oeuvres.

They stood and moved over to London, reaching under her as Randy instructed.

On Randy’s count, they all lifted and walked toward us.

Kira was curled into Ty, clinging and shaking.

When they got to us and were laying London out, Axel whispered, “It was a .22. She’s still alive. We need to get her out of here ASAP. Hopefully, she can hang on until this is over.”

“You think they’re going to let anyone live?” Ty spoke without moving his lips. His voice carried as wide as the circle of operators and no further.

No one mentioned to the newcomers that I was there behind the grate.

Good. The fewer who knew, the less chance I’d be caught.

Vincent knew where I was. Will he rat me out to the MC?

I didn’t see him anymore. It was possible that Vincent had done his duty and had left.

Still a worry.

The other men, Reaper, Jack, Deep, and Blaze, were slowly, slowly making their way in this direction. Every time an Assemblyman’s name was called, and eyes looked around to find that person, they took a sidestep.

At this rate, it would take them a while.

The Assemblymen were brought to a computer one after the other.

One after the other, they sat down and tapped, sweating and gasping.

I assumed that they were entering passcodes into the systems and moving money.

Lots of money to someone’s offshore account, I guessed.

Striker pulled Ty and Axel in front of him. “Chica,”

“Here”

“Can you get out?”

“No. I’m not sure what to do.”

“Absolutely nothing. If you can’t get out, you need to lay low and not call attention to yourself. It’ll up the stakes. Make them twitchy on the triggers. We need weapons. All of our guns are in the vehicles. Anything you can find us.”

“I’ll see what I can come up with. So far, I’ve decided not to make a bomb with cleaning supplies.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Good call.”

 “If I find something, I need a way to give it to you. Can you get the grate off?” I asked.

Lula pushed in behind the men, crouching beside Striker. “Stand up,” she told him. She pulled a clip from her hair. Her tiny frame was hidden behind Striker’s bulk. “It’s held with screws. I can get them out. We need weapons. Figure it out.”

Shit.

I searched over every inch of the outer room and saw no way to get through.

This seemed like a bad fire design, just like Destiny’s apartment had been when there was no way out past the goons besides that side door with the rotting steps.

The walls in the dressing room were cinderblock except behind the sink. I assumed they’d used drywall there to facilitate the water pipes.

Knocking at the drywall, it sounded hollow. Well, hallow enough that I was tempted to see what was on the other side.

Digging through the dressing table drawers, I located a pair of scissors. With the open blade, I scored down the paper, pressing hard to cut through the gypsum.

Powdery white sulfate material sprinkled down on me. It looked so solid, but this wasn’t hard to do. I cut to the side of the outlet, knowing that I’d have a two-foot space between studs to crawl through. That was if this led anywhere at all. I could just be heading into a concrete wall, another group of domestic terrorists, or a dead end.

Climbing onto the sink, I lifted a leg and started through the hole into what looked like a meeting room. I spent a moment jumping up and down and scraping my feet on the rug to rid myself of any dust lest I leave a trail.

Shadow walking, I moved into the hall toward the kitchen. At least I knew there would be ultra-sharp knives in there. The staff was sitting on the ground with their backs to the walls. Green Army men kept them under gunpoint.

Two of them.

Two… No. Armed with only scissors, I couldn’t fight them. If they got a shot off, even with their suppressors, it would call attention.

I took a moment to observe. Yeah, these guys were high-tech. One touched his breast bone where I was sure he was pressing a comms button. He spoke, then stilled to listen. He must have earbuds in underneath his outfit. If I had that outfit on, I could sneak into the room… to what end? How would that help anything?

Okay, nix that.

I had to get to the cars.

With another breath in, adjusting to make sure I was obfuscating my presence with my shadow walking technique, I made my way to an exit. I observed the door. If I went out, could I get back in? If I went out, would it signal anyone? So far, I hadn’t seen any security cameras. But that meant little. In spaces like this private club, the cameras were often eliminated so that private conversations would stay private.