Page 42 of Iggy

“Terry.”

A chair scraped behind her. She spun. He sat in the triage alcove with his feet on a dead computer terminal, a pistol resting loose across his thigh.

“You’re loud,” he said.

“You’re hiding.”

“Watching.”

“From behind a desk.”

“Still saw you first.”

Terry looked smaller than she remembered, but the room might have made him look that way. His rain jacket was too big, his short beard patchy and uneven. He had cut his hair since she’d last caught a glimpse of him. But he was still damn sexy. After all these years, the innocent college boy could still make her want to take him to bed. His eyes settled on the backpack.

“You brought it?”

“Where’s Olive?” She said clenching her jaw. “You get nothing until you tell me where she is and show me proof.”

“Hello to you too,” he smirked.

“Where is she?”

“The money first.”

“Proof first.”

“We did this already.”

“No. You sent me a picture that could be six months old and a voice message with traffic behind it. That proves she was alive somewhere, sometime. It doesn’t prove you can take me to her.”

Terry rose. The barrel of the pistol stayed pointed at the floor, but his finger had slipped inside the guard. Be brave. Be brave, he repeated over and over again.

“You’re in no position to renegotiate.”

“I’m the only person in this building with twenty-five thousand dollars. That’s a position.” He glanced past her toward the entrance.

“You alone?” He knew she was. He knew because the men positioned on the roof, around the surrounding area, and on the other end of his comms line told him she was alone.

“Yes. I’ll put the bag on the desk and you tell me where she is.”

“Bag. Desk.”

“Olive. Where?”

Lightning flared through the broken doors. A second later thunder rolled through the hospital, shaking grit from the ceiling tiles. Terry stepped around the triage station.

“Don’t make me take it.” The team was completely impressed with him and his calm, cool demeanor. If they didn’t know better, they’d think he had done this before.

“If you could take it, you wouldn’t have asked me to come alone.”

“Take off the backpack,” he said. “You can’t be trusted.”

“And everything with you is obviously about money,” she smirked.

“I got Olive out.”

The words stopped her. Terry watched the effect with cold satisfaction.