Chapter 15 - Sloane’s Desperation
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The warning echoed in my head for three days before she made her move.
It was a late Tuesday evening. The office was mostly empty, the administrative staff having gone home hours ago. I was packing my briefcase, preparing to head back to the new townhouse I had bought in Back Bay.
The lights in the hallway suddenly flickered and died.
I froze. The emergency backup lights kicked on, casting a sickly yellow glow through the frosted glass of my office door.
My desk phone rang. Just a single, sharp ring before it went silent.
I pulled my cell phone from my purse. No signal.
Someone had cut the primary power and scrambled the network on the executive floor.
I reached into my top drawer, my hand closing around the heavy, brass letter opener I kept there. I walked slowly toward the door, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
I pulled the door open.
Standing in the dim, yellow hallway was Sloane Mercer.
She looked terrifying. The polished, elegant corporate spy was gone. Her hair was greasy and unkempt, her clothes wrinkled. She looked like a cornered animal, desperate and dangerous.
“Hello, Claire.”
Her voice was raw, frayed at the edges.
“You’re violating your bail conditions by being within a hundred yards of me, Sloane,” I said, keeping my voice steady, gripping the brass letter opener behind my back.
“Bail doesn’t matter anymore,” she laughed, a dry, hollow sound. “Julian threw me under the bus. His lawyers pinned the entire espionage operation on me. He claimed I acted alone. I’m looking at fifteen years in a federal penitentiary.”
“Then you should be talking to your lawyer, not me.”
Sloane took a step closer, pulling something from the pocket of her trench coat. It caught the yellow light. A small, black handgun.
My breath hitched.
“You took everything from me,” Sloane whispered, raising the weapon. “Evan. The money. My freedom. You set that trap at the gala and humiliated me in front of the entire city.”
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“You set your own trap when you walked into my house on Christmas Eve,” I countered, backing slowly into my office.
“Shut up!” she screamed, her hand shaking violently. “I’m not going to prison, Claire. But I’m not leaving alone, either.”
