Staring into her eyes, then killing her...even harder.
Her fingers curled around the pen she’d taken from his desk.
“I didn’t want to,” Hal whispered, and sure enough, his hands were shaking. “I didn’t have a choice. He was going to hurt my family.” His eyes teared. “They’re all I have...he knew things about them. Too much. I had to do it.”
“You had to turn off the cameras?” She wanted to keep him talking. Needed to.
Hal nodded.
“And you gave him the access code?”
“Y-yes.”
The shaking of that gun was making her nervous. Her body was tense, ready to attack, and she planned to lunge at him soon, but she had to time her move just right. The last thing she wanted was a bullet hitting her or the baby.
The baby.
“Do you know I’m pregnant?” she whispered. “Please, Hal, don’t hurt the baby.” She meant that plea. The baby—the one she hadn’t even felt moving inside her yet—mattered more than anything to her.
Hal hesitated. “Baby?” The gun began to lower.
It was the moment she needed. Sydney leaped out of her chair. With one hand, she grabbed Hal’s right wrist—his right hand still clasped the gun—and she shoved that wrist out wide, making sure he wouldn’t have a shot at her. Then, with her other hand, she brought up her pen, aiming for his now exposed inner arm. She drove the pen into his arm because she knew that his reflex action at that attack would be to drop the weapon.
The gun hit the floor. Just as she’d anticipated. But it discharged on impact, and the shot echoed around her.
Instantly she could hear the scream of alarms. No way would a gunshot be missed in a place like this.
Then, as Hal was howling, she brought up her elbow and slammed it into his nose. She heard the snap and saw the spurt of blood from his nose. Hal backed away from her, crouching and...crying?
Sydney kicked the gun across the room. It skittered toward the entrance. She kept her hands loose at her sides, ready to attack again if necessary.
But Hal wasn’t putting up much of a fight. He was trying to stop the blood that was flowing from his nose and saying—
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”
“You’re sorry?” Sydney demanded. The alarm was hurting her ears. “You pulled a gun on me. You leaked classified information. You need to be a whole lot more than just sorry.”
He stood, or tried to stand, but his body kept trembling. His hand went to his side.
Over his shoulder, she caught the movement of the door as it opened.
“I want a name,” Sydney demanded through gritted teeth. “I want a full description of the guy. I want to know exactly who paid you off.”
Hal shook his head. “I—I can’t—”
“Do you know what happens to people found guilty of treason? Do you have any idea just how long you’ll be in jail?” Not to mention the slew of other charges that would be coming against him.
He shook his head again harder this time. “I can’t...can’t go to jail.”
Maybe you should have thought about that before you sold out the EOD and me.
“Give me a name. If you cooperate, then—”
“I can’t!” And his left hand came up. His fingers were wrapped around a box cutter. He had been a busy man. “Muerte, I—”
A shot rang out.
Sydney was staring right into Hal’s gaze, and she saw his eyes widen in shock. Then his body was crumpling as he fell to the floor. She rushed toward him. No, no, no! He couldn’t die. He knew the identity of the man who’d infiltrated the EOD.