It was an impossible position to be in. Call Colton and lure him into a deadly trap or refuse and die.
“I don’t have his number,” she spoke her second lie.
Why the hell hadn’t she thought to say that, sooner?
The man lowered his weapon, and both she and Christine breathed a sigh of relief. Their respite was short-lived, however, because in the very next second, the man’s free hand was squeezing her neck so tightly, she was gasping for air.
“You said you were the doctor in charge. That means you have all of the volunteers’ numbers saved in the phone provided by AMOVA.”
What the...how did this man know that?
He must’ve seen the realization cross over her because he smiled, then. “That’s right. I would love nothing more than to teach that lying, deceitful mouth of yours a lesson. Unfortunately, I do not have the time. So, I will simply kill you and she will make the call, instead.”
He shoved her to the side, her ribs landing hard against the bed’s metal railing. Sucking in a breath, Sophie ignored the pain and grabbed hold of the cold steel to keep from falling again.
When she spun her head around, she saw the man’s gun rising toward her once more. This time, however, she knew no amount of talking would save her.
“Please!” Christine begged him to stop. “Don’t!”
A deafening bang filled the room. Sophie squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the bullet to strike.
It never did.
There were two more shots fired, and then...
“Sophia!”
That voice.
God, was she actually dead, after all? It was the only explanation she could think of as to why she was hearinghisvoice here, in this room.
Moving slowly, Sophie peeled her eyes open, shocked by what she was seeing.
The man who’d threatened to kill her was dead, his lifeless body lying in a crumpled heap at her feet. His two buddies had also been shot. Both having died in the exact spots where they’d been standing.
Another man was there...the same one she saw in her mind during what she believed would be her last seconds alive. Only this was a different Jason Ryker than the one she’d imagined in her dreams.
The Jason she knew wore perfectly pressed suits and his hair was almost never out of place. He was professional to a fault, and never ever showed any signs of real emotion.
At least not during the times she’d been around him.
But this Jason...the one who’d appeared out of nowhere as if she’d somehow conjured him up herself...he wasn’t wearing a suit.
With a long gun in one hand, he was dressed in a helmet and black t-shirt that stretched over his muscles in the most magnificent way. His lower half was covered with matching black combat pants and boots, and protecting his broad chest was a bullet resistant vest.
And he was rushing toward her like a man on a mission.
“Jason?” Sophie blinked at the Homeland agent’s larger-than-life image, her mind racing to comprehend what had just happened.
Without a word, he pulled her into his arms and held on as if he never wanted to let go.
With an oof, she returned the unexpected gesture, feeling as if she’d been thrown into some other realm. An alternate reality where the man holding her cared about her in ways she’d only dreamed about.
“W-what are you doing here?” The words came out muffled, thanks to her face being pressed against his hard chest.
Ignoring the question, Jason pulled away and began frantically running his hands along her body as if he were assessing her for injuries.
“Did he touch you?” He rasped. “Are you hurt?”