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She didn’t even know where Ryan had gotten his gun. One minute, his hands were empty, and in the next—bam. The echo of gunfire reverberated around her. The man in the hotel uniform staggered back when the bullet Ryan had fired tore into him. Ryan rushed at their wounded attacker. The two men collided, slammed back, and, oh, no. No, no, no.

They went beneath the ladder.

Ryan would not be a happy man.

They’d gone beneath the ladder, ensuring that Ryan would have a significant amount of bad luck, and the ladder crashed down on top of the struggling figures.

Ryan shoved the ladder away and somehow managed to kick the creep’s gun out of the guy’s reach at the same time. Simone used that moment to surge forward herself. She grabbed the discarded weapon and held it tightly, aware that her heart was about to jump out of her chest. “That was fabulous!” she praised Ryan. “Where in the world did you get your gun?” She hadn’t seen one on him, but in a blink, it had been in his hand, and he’d been firing.

Ryan currently had his weapon pointed at the forehead of the fallen attacker. “It was strapped to my fucking ankle.”

Her gaze flew over him. “Oh.” Well, he’d certainly moved quickly. She hadn’t even seen him grab it. Her stare returned to Ryan’s face. “Good thing I created a distraction, huh? I gave you the chance to draw your weapon. Talk about some phenomenal teamwork.”

A savage growl. “Do not.” Ryan’s head turned toward her even as he kept his gun muzzle pointed on the downed man. “Do not talk to me about teamwork. I warned you about taking risks.”

“Someone is ungrateful.” Extremely so. “I saved your life! You know what…I get it.” A jerking nod. “You’re upset about the ladder and the incoming back luck that you’ll have. It’s all right. We’ll deal with it.”

“You are my bad luck,” Ryan snapped.

She sucked in a breath. Those snapped words of his hurt. “You try to save someone. You try to help…” And you’re called bad luck. He might as well have said she was trouble.

Then again, she was trouble. Trouble and a CIA operative were not meant to be together. She surveyed the scene. Ryan was safe. He had things under control. The gunman was practically sobbing as his shoulder bled profusely, and Ryan’s gun remained shoved toward the jerk’s head. Time for her to get back to her real life. The perfect opportunity was right in front of her. “Forget this. I’m done.”

She was done because…this was her chance.

“See you around, Ryan.”

Still clutching the gun she’d snagged, Simone bounded to the right, intent on rushing out of the Arch and into the rain and into the safety of the night.

Except…

Harry appeared.

Damn Harry. Why did the MI6 agent have to show up at that exact moment?

He bolted out of the rain, soaking wet, and he appeared straight in her path. She did have a gun. She could shoot him. An option. But not really one she wanted to take. Truth be told, she didn’t exactly love shooting the good guys. Or, anyone for that matter.

“Going somewhere?” Harry asked her, and he didn’t look quite as green and fresh faced as he’d seemed before.

She sent him her most innocent smile. “Hurray!” Which sounded a lot like Harry. “Help has arrived!” Simone darted a glance over her shoulder and found Ryan glaring at her and still holding his gun on the moaning-in-pain man. “Look, Ryan, the cavalry is here to help.”

“Simone…” Ryan’s gritted rumble. “Your ass is mine.”

Oh, that sounded both very promising and a little bit frightening. And, unable to help herself, she threw back, “Good luck with that.” Because by the time dawn arrived, she intended to be far, far away from the spy who was breaking her heart bit by bit.

The watcher counted at least five individuals who swarmed from the darkness and rushed toward the Arch. He’d been preparing to storm forward, but the others had beaten him.

Now he waited in the shadows, the rain falling steadily, as he tried to see his target. Time ticked past far too slowly. Come on. Come on…

And there she was. Stumbling out in a wet blouse, with a hulking figure by her side. A figure who had a coat positioned over her head. How very chivalrous.

His eyes narrowed. He could partially make out the man’s face. A face that was familiar to him. He’d expected to encounter strangers but…surely…not…

He backed up.

Fucking hell. I know that face. I know that dangerous sonofabitch.

Simone’s chivalrous protector was a lying, killing spy.