“Zane’s just a friend. We went to school together . . . and he’s not a mercenary.” I threw him that bone, hoping he’d be satisfied and concentrate on getting me out of this situation instead of obsessing over semantics.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But that still leaves the question of who you are and who you’re working for.” Apparently tired of waiting for me to turn over the comm, Alex took a step closer. “Give it or I’ll take it.”

I was starting to get pissed.

Who could blame me? This was turning into the worst date of my life.

I’d probably end up dead and buried beneath the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Sculpture Garden if the hate-filled glare Alex had leveled on me was any indication, but I didn’t give in.

Folding my arms across my chest, I said, “No.”

“Fine, have it your way.”

A step, a reach, a twist and the next thing I knew I was flat on my back with the wind knocked out of me, gasping for breath as Alex straddled me. 

She poked a finger into my ear none too gently. With satisfaction she held up the comm, peering at in by the glow of the exit sign.

 “It is a nice piece of equipment, I’ll admit. Too bad I have to do this.”

Still sitting on me, she took off one shoe, put the comm on the floor and smashed it.

I watched in shock, unable to stop her. “What are you doing?”

“Disabling your means of communication with your friend.” With the deadly looking heel still clutched in her hand and poised above my eye, she said, “Tell me who you work for and what your assignment is.”

She wouldn’t do it. She couldn’t do it. Could she? Kill me with a high heel?

Was it even possible? Even if I didn’t die, I had no doubt she could blind me with that thing.

Did her wielding the heel at me mean she didn’t have another weapon? Did she not have a gun on her?

That thought made me brave and I said, “How about you tell me who you work for.”

She lifted a brow and I wondered if my bravado had impressed her or if she was just thinking I was an idiot who deserved to die.

The sound of the elevator rumbling to a stop and the door opening sent both of our heads swiveling in that direction.

I didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried when a man stepped off the elevator, gun first. 

“Another one?” She sighed. “Who the fuck are you?”

It was my turn to wonder if she was brave or stupid. After all, she was the one bringing a shoe to a gunfight.