"Looks like we'll be trapped for a while..."
Zayn knew the moment he stepped into his flat that something wasn't right. He'd always had really good instincts — it was what made him good at his job. He could read people and situations very well and he trusted his senses. So when he stepped into his flat and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, he was immediately alert.
He tucked his keys back into his pocket instead of putting them in the bowl by the door like he usually did. He had a Glock in the front hall drawer and he drew that out right away, clicking off the safety. Shutting the door as quietly as he could, he slid the deadbolt in place so that he was trapped in his flat with whoever was waiting for him. He knew all the secret exits — his assailant didn't.
One thing Zayn had always been especially good at was keeping silent. He didn't make a sound as he crept down the hall, stopping beside the door to the kitchen and then spinning into the doorway with his gun raised. The room was clear and he moved further along toward the sitting room at the end of the hall.
He repeated the pattern but this time, when he stepped into the doorway, he immediately noticed the shadowy figure sitting on the couch despite the room being dark.
"Give me a reason I shouldn't shoot you," he muttered warningly, keeping his voice flat and even.
The light beside the couch clicked on, flooding the room with dim light. When he got a good look at who was sitting there, he chuckled under his breath and kept the gun steady.
"Was that supposed to stop me from shooting?"
"I can explain," she said as she nodded toward the chair to her left.
"You're a member of a mercenary group on Interpol's most wanted list," Zayn countered smoothly, trying his best to keep his voice even. He wasn't nervous or frightened — he'd stopped being frightened of anything a long time ago — but he was quite confused and didn't know what was going on and that was a feeling he didn't like. "What's left to explain?" he asked her.
"I'm not who I seem."
"You're not Perrie Edwards?"
She let out a sigh, her shoulders sinking forward. "I am, but there's more to the story, I promise."
He watched her carefully for a moment, trying to get a read on her. Her hands were resting carefully on her knees — he was sure it was her way of showing she didn't have quick access to a weapon. He was confident there was a weapon on her somewhere but she wasn't pulling it. She was letting herself be vulnerable in front of him. It was what kept him from shooting out her knee, just in case.
She was staring right back at him as he appraised her, her vibrant blue eyes locked on his. Eye contact was one of the best ways to tell whether someone was lying or not — liars couldn't keep straight contact — but training could teach someone to get around that. But there was something about Perrie's eyes that seemed very genuine and Zayn decided to give her a chance.
"Alright then," he said though he refused to lower the gun, "explain."
"I'm part of a black ops group, similar to One Direction."
"How did you know about that?" Zayn interrupted sternly, his voice dropping to a lethal hiss. Perrie raised her hands defensively.
"I was briefed on you and your partners because we were supposed to be introduced to you later in the week. Like I said, we're part of a black ops group posing as a mercenary group and we're supposed to be doing a joint mission later in the month to get the leader of the Mizerak Cartel."
Zayn remembered El mentioning something about the Mizerak Cartel when he'd dropped by HQ earlier in the week but he still wasn't convinced.
"If you're black ops, you worked for an organization before. What was it?"
"Special forces," Perrie answered with the sort of confidence that couldn't be faked. "And then MI5 for a bit."
"What floor is the canteen on?"
"What?"
Zayn levelled Perrie with a hard stare. "What level is the canteen on at MI5 headquarters?"
Perrie frowned as if she didn't understand the question. "There isn't a canteen at the Thames House."
"No, there isn't." Zayn lowered his gun slowly, clicking the safety on and slipping it into the back of his jeans. "I'm Zayn Malik, by the way," he said as he walked across the room, perching in the chair Perrie had indicated to earlier. She seemed relieved that he finally believed her, a smile crossing her face that brightened it considerably. "Now are you going to tell me why you're here?"
"I overheard some intel while I was undercover in the Krew Syndykat last month," she said, swallowing hard as if she was nervous. Zayn thought she was about his age but she seemed a little green, like she hadn't been working black ops for very long. She was brave to have come here without her weapons drawn if she was so new, especially since she knew what he was capable of. "Your name was mentioned multiple times."
This was interesting. "In what way?"
"They've noticed you —"
Perrie was interrupted by the crack of glass as a bullet went sailing through the window and Zayn ducked just in time for the bullet to fly over his head and plant into the wall. He immediately got down on the floor, belly to the ground, and yanked on Perrie's ankle. "Get down!"
She was quick to follow, reaching down to draw a small handgun from her boot. Zayn nodded toward the hallway and Perrie nodded her reply, following after Zayn as he slid on the floor to the door. When they were both in the hall, Zayn turned to Perrie. "They ordered a hit, didn't they?"
She nodded. "But it wasn't supposed to be for another week."
"Why wait," Zayn muttered sarcastically. "Okay, if they're shooting through that window, they're on the building across the street. We can go out the back —"
But even as he said it, there was a thundering on the stairs. More assailants. "Give me a moment," Zayn said to Perrie as he jumped to his feet. He sprinted to the front door and made sure to lock all the deadbolts and locks before getting a shoulder behind the bookshelf in the hall and pushing it in front of the the door, the legs screeching on the wood. He got it in place just in time for a body to hit the door hard on the other side, attempting to get it open.
The bookshelf held. They were secure on that side.
"The only exit from the flat is out the window," Zayn explained as he crouched down beside Perrie once more, "but if they're covering the front —"
"Then we're stuck," Perrie finished for him. "Do you have anything to drink?" Zayn quirked a brow and Perrie cracked a smile, a glorious smile that pulled a grin right out of him too. "Looks like we'll be trapped for a while," Perrie explained with a shrug. "Might as well have a little fun while we're stuck."
Zayn smirked as a thought crossed his mind. "I think I have another idea of what we can do for fun."
He waved for her to follow him and then crept down the hall to his bedroom. "Stay down," he said over his shoulder as he got on hands and knees and crawled across his bedroom floor. The windows faced front, same as the sitting room, so there was a chance they had eyes here too. He wasn't taking any chances.
When he got to the closet, he opened the door slowly, waiting to see if there would be a resulting gunshot. There wasn't. Perrie watched with a curious expression as Zayn pushed his clothes aside and slid out the back wall, revealing a hidden safe. He unlocked it quickly and when Perrie saw the sniper rifles and shotguns stored inside, she gave Zayn a sneaky grin.
"We're going to shoot back?"
"Fuck yeah, we're going to shoot back." Zayn picked up a shotgun and held it out to her, but she reached past him and grabbed the sniper rifle instead. "You a good shot?" he asked her.
"Oh babe," she said with a grin, her northern accent colouring the word and making a chill of arousal run down Zayn's spine, "you have no idea."
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Good shot was an understatement. Perrie might be the best shot he'd ever seen, besides Liam. With the scope, she managed to catch sight of four gunmen in the building across, two on the roof and two in windows on opposite sides of the building. It had been an absolute pleasure to watch her take out the first two unaware, the two of them ducking down when the men on the roof launched a retaliatory assault.
Zayn would have stayed to watch Perrie take out the other two — it was a strange sort of a turn on watching the way she controlled her shots, her stomach tensing as she pulled the trigger and her shoulders rolling to catch the recoil — but the door cracked like it was about to give so Zayn left her to it and took care of the men there. He shouldered the shelf out of the way and then shot through the door to get a couple down. As he reloaded shots, he listened for footsteps and separated three distinct pairs. It was easy enough to take each of them down once he'd thrown the door open and he had sight lines.
He straightened when he heard a shot through the glass and a hiss that followed, and shut the door once more, bullet holes and all, so he could race back to the sitting room. Perrie was hunched over, hand to her arm, and she looked up when he stopped in the doorway.
"There was a fifth," she explained as she pulled her hand away from her arm gingerly, revealing a ragged line of blood — she'd been grazed. "He caught my arm; I caught his head."
"Let me make a call to get some of my mates to sort this out," Zayn said, "and then I'll take a look. Just sit tight."
"I'm fine —"
"Perrie." She looked up with wide eyes and when she saw the firm expression on his face, she nodded quickly, her hand applying pressure once more. "I'll just be a moment," he told her as he left the room, pulling his phone from his pocket as he went.
He called Harry who promised to bring Liam and do a bit of clean-up, and then sent a text to El describing the situation. With that sorted, he got the first aid kit from his bathroom and then walked back to the sitting room.
Perrie had moved to the couch and removed her shirt, leaving her in just her bra. Zayn took a glance at her tight abs and her perky breasts — reflex action — but he shook it off and focused on the task at hand. Perrie glanced up and, while there was a little flush on her cheeks, she didn't say anything about her newly bared skin. Zayn didn't mention it either.
"How bad is it?" Perrie asked once Zayn had a chance to look at the cut on her arm. He pulled an antiseptic wipe from the first aid kit and dabbed at the wound carefully. Perrie cringed a little but kept quiet. Zayn had to admire that — antiseptic was the one thing that could make even the most hardened spy hiss in pain. "Will I keep the arm?"
Zayn smiled to himself as he wiped away most of the blood. "I think we can salvage it."
"Can't believe I got shot," Perrie muttered to herself, pursing her lips unhappily. "There goes my record. The girls will never let me live this down."
"Well, how about you let me buy you a drink?" Zayn offered as he rooted around in the first aid kit looking for butterfly stitches. When he looked back up, Perrie had a brow quirked and her eyes shone bright with amusement. "To thank you for taking a bullet for me," Zayn explained which brought a proud smirk to her face. "I figure I owe you."
"Damn right you do," Perrie agreed with a firm nod, her blonde curls tumbling over her shoulder when she did. She tossed them to one side and Zayn was sort of stunned for a moment, blown away by the contrast of her femininity with her fierce skills and how they perfectly blended into one person.
Perrie Edwards was a force to be reckoned with. And Zayn had a temptation to see how long he could run by her side. He didn't know what could exist between them but he sure as hell wanted to find out. It had been a long time since he'd felt the sort of interest in a girl as he did now.
He wanted to know Perrie Edwards in as many ways as he could. He figured a drink was a good place to start.
"It's a date then."