"Put the gun down, Eli." I knocked his wrist aside before he could fire through the mayor's office door. "That contract says alive. You don't get to rewrite it because you're having a bad night."
The shot cracked into the ceiling.
Dust rained over us. Eli slammed me against the wall, his forearm pinning my shoulder while the pistol stayed aimed at the door.
"You touched my gun," he said.
"You fired it indoors. We both made bad choices."
His face was inches from mine. Gun oil. Cold metal. The sharp heat of his breath against my cheek.
"You think this is funny?"
"No. I think your aim sucks."
His eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second.
Then his grip tightened.
"Careful."
"Make me."
The words left my mouth before common sense could stop them.
Eli went still.
Behind the door, the mayor shouted, "What the hell is happening out there?"
"Your security detail is having a disagreement," I called back.
"That's not my security detail!"
"See?" I whispered. "He doesn't even like you."
Eli pressed the pistol beneath my chin—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to remind me who controlled the next second.
"The contract says alive," he murmured. "It doesn't say unharmed."
"Read the fine print again."
"I wrote the fine print."
That wiped the smirk off my face.
Eli's gaze held mine. No anger now. No bad night. Just calculation.
My pulse kicked once beneath his fingers.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
"You're scared," he said.
"I'm standing under a loaded gun. What gave it away?"
"Your hands."
I glanced down. One hand was trapped against the wall. The other hovered near the knife at my belt.
Eli followed my eyes.
"Don't," he warned.
"You keep saying that like it's worked before."
"It will this time."
The mayor shouted again. "Open this door!"
"Tell him to step back," Eli said.
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
"That isn't a reason. That's a personality defect."
His mouth twitched. Not a smile. Almost one.
That was worse.
Eli leaned closer, blocking the hall camera with his shoulder. His coat brushed mine. The contact lasted one breath, but it was enough to make the space between us feel too small.
"Listen carefully," he said. "The mayor isn't our target."
"Then why are we here?"
"You tell me. You're the one who brought the contract."
"I brought the copy you stole."
"You broke into my safe."
"You left the key under your desk."
"I wanted to see if you'd find it."
"And?"
"You did."
"Try sounding less impressed."
"I'm trying not to shoot you."
"Try harder."
His stare sharpened.
For one dangerous second, neither of us moved. His hand was warm around my wrist. My back was cold against the wall. Somewhere beyond the door, the mayor fumbled with the lock.
Then Eli snatched the contract from my jacket pocket.
I cursed and drove my knee forward.
He twisted aside. My knee missed. His hand caught my waist and shoved me back into the wall with a hard thud.
"You could've asked," he said.
"You would've said no."
"Correct."
I hooked my fingers around his wrist and squeezed the nerve beneath his thumb.
His grip broke.
I tore free, grabbed the contract, and spun toward the door.
Eli caught the back of my jacket.
The fabric snapped tight against my throat.
"Let go."
"No."
"Eli."
"You open that door, the mayor's people will take you alive."
"That supposed to comfort me?"
"No. It's supposed to make you stop."
"And if I don't?"
He pulled me back until my shoulders hit his chest. His voice dropped beside my ear.
"Then I stop you."
The lock on the mayor's door clicked.
Eli's arm locked around me. The pistol rose between us, aimed at the handle.
I looked at the contract in my hand.
One line had been crossed out in red ink.
Not the mayor's name.
Mine.
"Eli," I whispered. "Why is my name on this?"
His breath stopped against my hair.
The door began to open.
"Don't—"