Hidden Tracks | ✓

43 | strike to kill

I cried out to reach for my gun when a hand grabbed my neck and pulled me back.

"Not so fast, sweetie."

I didn't need to turn around to recognise who it was. Isabella Hill.

Or Amélie Beaumont in disguise, as we all knew.

She had thrown her entire weight on me, and currently had her arms and even her legs wrapped around my torso to stop me from reaching for the gun.

She might've looked a bit fragile, but she had a hell of a lot of strength, I'd give her that. I pushed against her and tried an old trick I'd learnt at TIA to get rid of her weight from my back, but sadly, at that very same moment, she pulled a knife out of nowhere and held it to my throat.

"You can't escape that easily, my dear," she hissed. "If you try, I might just slit your throat. No one will even notice it here."

She leaned forward a little, and used the knife to turn off my earpiece. Wow, she'd spotted it through my hair.

I sighed, pretending not to be scared. I'd faced situations like this before, and even though I panicked everytime, I never showed it. That always did the trick.

But a fashion designer from France was proving to be a bit more difficult than all the tough men I'd handled in my career.

I sighed. "You can drop the English accent now, Amélie, I know it's you."

Behind me, the woman froze, and I realised she hadn't expected me to know her real identity. I used that one second of weakness to my advantage, digging my elbow hard into her stomach and headbutting her at the same time.

She groaned and the hand carrying the knife loosened its grip a little. I quickly bit my teeth into her knuckles, making her drop the knife, and got up to my feet.

I grabbed the knife she'd dropped, but unfortunately for me, she'd managed to regain her balance and get up too. And this time, lo and behold, she was brandishing a gun at me.

My mouth almost dropped in surprise, but at the last moment I restrained myself. How many weapons was this woman hiding? I also realised what a huge disadvantage I had. I'd literally brought a knife to a gunfight, and my gun was currently lying halfway across the hallway.

Amélie Beaumont smirked. "If you move your hand even a millimeter, I won't hesitate to shoot. Straight at your heart. Now that you know who I am, you should be even more terrified, Dr Edwards."

Ah. So she'd figured out I was the same person who'd met her at the café. This woman was smart, I'd give her that.

"I figured out who you were right now, when I heard you speak. I recognised your voice, and that was what made me lose my guard there for a second," Amélie clarified. "Of course, also the fact that you know who I really am." She smiled pitifully at me. "You're clever, girl. You could've been useful in the right hands."

I snorted. "You mean the hands which would've led me into a world of drug trafficking and god knows what other crimes? Yeah, no thanks."

I was currently cornered by Amélie, but I somehow had to get her to keep talking. The more time I could take, the better.

Amélie gave me a glacial glare. "This world, mon cherie, would've offered you a whole lot more than what your pesky agents and that pretty boy toy of yours are giving you."

Pretty boy toy. I had to laugh at that one. "I'm genuinely curious though. Why did you and Mason Caldwell get into this business in the first place?"