The Pentagon Paradox

Chapter Thirteen

SCARLET

It's been a couple of hours since Matheo and I went over every important person on the premises, what they do, and their routines. I've also gathered that there are usuals who come to play poker with the Russians weekly in their house, which is something I can somehow make work on my side.

"So Ivanovich and Nikandr are the ones I should keep an eye out for, hence the big red X you drew on them?" I ask. Matheo has been drawing Xs on all the faces I should be wary of, and it seems like everyone is getting an X.

"You should look out for everyone; these are just the important ones," he says. I debate hitting him with the strikingly surprising information that I was an agent on Russian premises before, but I keep that to myself, knowing he'll add an unnecessary comment that might be the start of a chain reaction that ends with his life.

"I think we're done, except for the way you'll get in," he says, getting up from the ground.

"I already told you. You said they have poker nights at bars owned by people they know. Do you know which bar they're going to this month?" I get up too, going to my desk and starting up my laptop, ready to search for the bar's location.

"I'm not telling you. That stupid, irrational idea of getting you kidnapped is out the window," he fixes me with a look, but I don't cower. Who does he think he is to tell me what to do and what not to do?

"Okay then. I'll find out on my own. Thank you for your expertise." I start typing on my laptop, searching the bars owned by-

Matheo slams the laptop shut.

This mother-fucker has a death wish. He should be thankful my fingers weren't inside; I would've chopped his off if they were.

"What do you think you're doing?" I stand up, put my hands on the desk, and lean forward.

"You're not getting yourself kidnapped." He says it like it's an order as if he can stop me.

"Yes, I am!"

"No, you're not!"

I walk around the desk and stand right in front of him. We're so close that the tips of our shoes touch. I know I should back away a little, but I don't.

"Stop me," I challenge him in a low, unwavering tone.

He looks at me for a few seconds, his eyes roaming over my face. I finally step back to return to my laptop, and he scoffs.

"Oh, I will," He sounds like he believes himself, and I let him.

He bends down, wrapping his arm around my thighs. What the fuck does he think he's doing? I try to fight back, but I'm a second too late. He throws me over his shoulder with one arm, like I don't even weigh a feather.

"Let me down! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" I kick and hit the back of his legs, but it's of no use; this man has thighs of steel.

"Stopping you," he says, walking us over to my office bathroom and flipping the light switch on with his free arm. This would've been so freaking hot if I wasn't being manhandled.

Stopping me?! The fuck? How is this stopping me?

He puts me down on the toilet and pats me on the head, then leaves, closing the door behind him. I get up to open the door. He fucking locked it. He locked the damned bathroom door from the outside. That bastard!

"Matheo! You're not getting away with this; I swear to god if—" I can hear him laughing from the other side of the door. He dares to fucking laugh. I'm going to behead, dismember, and hang his dead body in the cafeteria, I swear!