Lost and Found (Masters & Mercenaries: The Forgotten #2)(19)

“I think the elevator stopped.” Her voice sounded breathless. “Did you do that?”

And she was na?ve, or he was a far better actor than he gave himself credit for. It made him wonder though why she immediately thought he’d set this up. She was suspicious? That was interesting. “I work security, love. I was joking about being an assassin.” He held his hands up, letting his shoulders fall back so his jacket opened. “See, no guns.”

He wouldn’t actually need a gun to take a person out. He might have forgotten everything about his past, but his body remembered how to kill.

It might be the only thing he was good at.

Besides, his Glock was in his bag, but she didn’t need to know that. She didn’t need to know that the messenger bag he was carrying held a Glock, extra ammo, two knives, and a taser unit. It also held a file on one Dr. Rebecca Walsh that would likely have her clawing her way out of this lift.

Her face had gone the sweetest pink. “It’s because I thought you might be a stripper, isn’t it?”

He shrugged and looked at the lift’s panel. Seven was lit up, but it was obvious they were stuck. Oddly, he didn’t mind. It might be the longest he got alone with the target, and he was going to use it to get to know her a bit. After this, Robert would be the one trying to befriend her and he would stay to the background. “A man likes to be known for his brain. Eyes up here, lass.”

She’d gone even pinker because sure enough, he caught her staring at his chest. “Sorry. I work with a bunch of doctors and medical techs. Despite what you see on TV, they are not all stunningly gorgeous. They know what abs are but not how to work ’em, if you know what I mean.”

“You look quite fit.” She was different in person, more vibrant than any photo could convey. At first, he hadn’t actually recognized her. She’d slipped into the lift and all he’d thought about was how luscious her ass was in that skirt she was wearing.

“Oh, I have to be. I wear a lot of spandex,” she said and then winced. “That came out wrong.”

“Who’s the stripper now?” She was actually quite adorable, but in a surprisingly sexy way.

He couldn’t help but think that if Robert hadn’t been such a bloody picky bastard, he would be the one standing out at the street, directing the movers. He wouldn’t be stuck briefly in here with the most intriguing woman he’d seen in forever. Well, in roughly two years, since he’d woken up with no knowledge of who he was.

“I’m a doctor,” she shot back, but her lips had curled up as though she enjoyed the flirtatious air they’d found.

He was supposed to be Robert’s husband. He didn’t want to be Robert’s husband.

It didn’t matter. They would be out of here in a few moments and he would fade into the background. Hell, he could be bi for all she knew. It could help the op because he could be Robert’s cheating bisexual husband and they could commiserate because he was fairly certain she’d divorced her husband for similar reasons.

The small phone on the panel rang and he picked it up. They needed to get out of here as quickly as possible. He wasn’t good at this part. Hell, he’d already announced to the target that he was a bloody assassin. This was Robert’s job. He was the one who would break into her apartment while Robert distracted her. That was what he was good at. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh, eh, I was hoping no one was there. Sorry. The elevator seems to be broken,” a tinny voice said. “I got an alert on my phone.”

“No shite, mate,” he replied. “And it’s definitely not empty. There’s two of us in here.”

The doc was getting into his space. “If that’s Colin, you tell him he can’t just slap an out-of-order sign on the doors this time. I’m not living here for a week, damn it.”

“Is that Doctor Walsh? Crap.” Colin sounded slightly terrified. “Uhm, look, I have a call in to someone who can fix it, but I have to get my dad to okay the cost.”

“Your dad? How the bloody hell old are you?” Owen asked.

“He’s barely twenty-two, but his father owns the building and wanted to retire,” Becca pointed out.

“I don’t care how old you are, lad. You get someone to get us out of this bloody box.” He couldn’t be in here for hours.

“Sorry. I’ll get you out of there as fast as I can,” Colin promised and the line went dead.

Owen hung up and sighed. “Does this happen a lot?”

She backed away quickly, as if she realized she was far too close for comfort. “Not too often, but the last time it happened it was several hours before they managed to get that sucker working. It depends on where we are. If we’re close to seven, they can pry the doors open and we can wiggle out. If we’re solidly in between, they’ll ask us to stay inside as long as there’s no danger. Are you claustrophobic?”

She picked a corner and slid down to the floor, somehow managing to make the move graceful. She wore a black skirt, white blouse, and a prim pink cardigan. It made her look like a sweet little schoolteacher. The bottle in her hand was a contradiction. She’d reached inside her brown-and-white striped tote bag. He noticed she had a bunch of files in there, too.

That was interesting. He wouldn’t mind looking through a few of those, but she would probably not like him making a grab for her bag.