9. An Unexpected Guest

To Winter's credit, he stilled his face into a picture of calm at the sight of her words. Still, she caught the clench of his jaw as he leaned his head close to her, the way his face drained of color, the way his eyes jumped to hers. To her surprise, it sent a wave of unease through her that cut through her fear.

He was afraid for her.

"I thought no one knew we were coming," he whispered, his voice so quiet that she could barely make out his words. "Except for Panacea."

Her eyes darted to the vehicle behind them—even from here, with only the silhouette of Claire visible in the other car's passenger seat, she could see the manager twisted around in her chair to talk animatedly to the rest in the car, as if she were checking to make sure they'd all made it in one piece.

Sydney turned back, trying not to meet his eyes so that she didn't see his fear there. "Guess someone does," she responded. There was always a point in every mission where the danger became a reality, the point when Sydney would come crashing back down to earth. She just hadn't expected it to come so soon this time.

Winter narrowed his eyes. "Did you recognize him?" he murmured.

Sydney shook her head. "I'll give Niall the details. He might ID him for us."

"Maybe there's footage." Winter's eyes darkened. "There were plenty of cameras out there. Someone was bound to have caught something."

"Maybe it was an attack intended for you," she replied. "Wouldn't be the first time you've been targeted."

Winter shook his head imperceptibly. "If they'd wanted me, we'd know."

He was right. The man had looked directly at her as he'd passed, had intentionally turned his body and his weapon toward her instead of angling it toward Winter. He'd been there for her.

The question, of course, was why. Who'd want Sydney dead now? The rebel groups plotting the assassination? If so, how would they know about her? No matter what, news of the failed attack would have already been relayed to whoever had ordered it.

Beside her, Winter picked up his phone. Sydney could hear Claire's voice from the other side the instant he accepted the call.

"I'm okay," he said.

"Good." Claire breathed out a sigh of relief. "Once we arrive at the hotel, Dameon will come fetch you for your rehearsal. I'll have food sent."

"Okay," he said again.

As they talked, Sydney typed up a rapid report for Niall, giving him as thorough of a description of her attacker as she could.

Seconds later, Niall sent a message back to her.

On it,he said.

here yet?she asked.

With the CIA now. Stay safe.

At least he had arrived now, too. His message—along with Sydney's report—deleted automatically from her phone an instant later.

Stay safe. His two-word message of concern sent a twinge of comfort through her, and she let herself take a breath, forced herself to relax her shoulders a bit. Niall was here, the CIA was here—they had their allies on the ground. She would be okay. This was far from the most dangerous thing that had ever happened to her.

But the attack still remained vivid and sharp in her mind. Niall himself had drilled her in self-defense against a knife, had gone over and over it until she was fending off assailants in her dreams.

What causes death?he'd asked her during the lesson. In every scenario?

Hypoxia,Sydney had replied.

Hypoxia,Niall had confirmed with a grim nod. He'd held out a knife to her and demonstrated the lethal points on a mannequin. Every attack is designed to cut the flow of oxygen to your body's cells. You can lose fifteen percent of your blood before you start hitting the danger zone. He had given her a sober look. Keep your wits about you during a knife attack, Cossette. A split second could cost you your life.

Had Sydney not trained for such attacks, her assailant at the airport would have plunged his knife deep between her second and third ribs, all the way through her liver. A fatal blow. She would have bled out in seconds.

Whoever he had been, he knew what he was doing.

As Winter finished his call with Claire, they fell into a tense silence, watching the scenery go by. Avenues lined with broad-leaved tropical trees changed gradually into skyscrapers filled on the street level with brightly colored food stalls. Trucks rumbled past them with foreign license plates, the sound of their honking strange and unfamiliar. Now and then, someone on a motorbike would peer curiously at their tinted windows, as if trying to see what important person might be inside.

Sydney instinctively leaned back from the windows so that her face couldn't be seen through the glass panes. To her relief, Winter did the same. She had been attacked in a car before, when a motorbike had stopped beside her at a traffic light in Sacramento and fired two shots at her windowpane before speeding off. The bullets had shattered the glass and missed hitting her by mere centimeters.

Sydney replayed the moment at the airport in her mind. She could still see the man with his knife drawn, the glint unmistakable in the light, stumbling toward her in a lunge. She didn't shudder, but her free hand curled together tightly at her side, her fingers tapping nonstop against her knuckles until they finally reached the hotel where they would be staying.

She had seen pictures of this hotel before, as had everyone in the world: the Marina Bay Sands, a trio of pillars connected by a boat-shaped rooftop with trails of flowers and lush foliage. Its sides were lit up with lines of light that ran along each building's edges, giving it the appearance of a futuristic docking station.

No clusters of fans were here to greet them this time as they exited the vehicle. Instead, they were immediately ushered across a courtyard and into a lobby that had been blocked off with velvet ropes. As she went, Sydney noted the security gate that they'd driven through in order to get to the back entrance of the building. It was electrified from the inside; she could tell by the blinking green dot on either side of the fence posts. That was good, at least.

Gavi and Dameon met them in the hotel lobby. Dameon's eyes were round, and as Winter approached him, he started shaking his head.

"What was that?" he said, nudging his friend on the shoulder. "Forget adding more security detail. We should have flown you into a small regional airport in another country and then smuggled you across the border."

"I'm sure the airport staff would agree," Sydney added dryly.

"That wasn't so bad," Gavi said, looping her arm through Winter's as they walked through the lobby, which was already lined with security anticipating his arrival.

Sydney looked away as the girl leaned up to say something in Winter's ear, but not before she caught Winter leaning back to listen to her, his arm pressed against hers. Her heart sped up—she forced it back into calmness. Now that they had arrived, she needed to focus on the business at hand—which meant it was just as well that Gavi would keep Winter occupied when she didn't need him. The girl was doing her a favor.

She repeated this over and over to herself as she caught up with Claire.

Claire glared at her, and Sydney pushed aside all the dread in her stomach from her brush with death to give the woman an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry," she said, holding her hands up. "But you know I had to do it."

The woman pressed her lips together, but Sydney could see on her face that she didn't have a counterargument. Instead, she said, "I'll deal with the airport's complaints. They didn't give us much of a choice, after all." She nodded at the elevators. "We've booked out the entire top floor. Your room is adjoining Winter's, as expected, while the rest of our staff will be staying in the other suites."

Her room was probably separated by nothing more than a suite door. Sydney nodded and held back her wince. That meant she'd be adjacent to where Winter and Gavi would be sharing the main suite. An awkward situation, if she had ever been in one.

"Sounds convenient," she said instead.

Fifty-six stories later, Sydney could feel her ears popping from the ascent. By the time they stepped out of the elevators, she was rubbing the sides of her head in discomfort. Several other security guards stopped before Winter's suite.

"See you in an hour?" Dameon called to Winter over his shoulder. Sydney watched as Winter nodded at him. Dameon's gaze lingered for a second longer on him, then on Sydney, before he turned back around.

Sydney noted Dameon's stare. Perhaps he'd sensed something off about the dynamics of this trip—he'd always been an observant one, had been paying attention in London, too. She turned back to where Winter and Gavi had stopped in front of their suite door, then sucked in her breath.

"Well, Winter," Gavi said, casting him a wry smile. "This can't go any worse than our trip to Italy two years ago, can it?"

"Don't jinx it," he replied as he swiped the door open. As he did, Gavi caught Sydney's gaze and winked.

Sydney thought of Dameon's skeptical stare and forced herself to give Gavi nothing more than a polite smile back. Her heart folded carefully in on itself. It was time to take her relationship with Winter seriously—and by relationship, she meant their brief partnership during this mission. So she said nothing as they stepped inside—into the most breathtaking hotel suite she'd ever seen in her life.

The same glass walls lined the interior of their space, and thick plush carpets covered a floor decked out in teakwood. Near the wall was a grand piano that must have been brought in specifically for Winter, as well as a canopied bed piled high with thick pillows. Another door against a side wall seemed to lead into the adjoining suite, where Sydney would stay. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a kaleidoscope of colors around the room.

But the incredible luxury of the space wasn't what caught Sydney's attention.

She was instead staring at the person that was already in the room, lounging easily in one of the chairs near the glass wall, his arms folded and his eyes locked on them in amusement.

Even though it'd been several years, she recognized him right away.

It was Tems.