SNAKESKIN (Tangerine) ✓

六

Tangerine

"Be quick," Lemon ordered, pulling his gun from his jacket pocket. "It won't be long before they realise we're here."

I nodded, pushing open the door and ducking inside. I quickly turned around, holding the door open as Bronte slipped in after me.

"It should be marked under O," she said confidently, immediately beginning to scan the labels on the shelves. She looked over at me, still standing by the door. "Well, get a move on."

"Right." I headed over to the other side of the room, scanning over the boxes on the shelves, for the one marked O. We probably had five minutes at the most to find the document and get the hell out. Speed was key.

"I found it!" I turned around to see Bronte holding up a binder, a triumphant smirk on her tired face. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

I smiled at her enthusiasm. It was quite endearing. "After you, love."

She grinned at me as I headed towards the door. Just as I reached for the handle it was pulled open from the other side. I jumped back in surprise as four people crowded into the room, arms raised, guns pointed toward Bronte and me.

"What are you two doing in here?" One of them asked. Glancing in between Bronte and me. "Where's your security clearance?

Bronte looked at me, nodding at my breast pocket where I had put the stolen security card. "Show them, Tang."

I sighed, pulling out the card and holding it out to the man in front of me. "Here." He snatched it out of my grasp, without a word. "Alright, calm your fucking tits," I muttered under my breath in annoyance.

The man squinted at the card, before turning back to me. "What are you in here for?" I opened my mouth to answer, not quite sure what to say. "Um," I began, noticing Bronte's impatient expression out of the corner of my eye. "My boss asked me for next month's list of international delegations," he explained, trying to sound confident in his reasoning. "He's in charge of booking the flights."

The man in front of me studied my face for a moment, before seeming to decide my excuse panned out. "Fine," he grunted, tossing the card back in my direction. "What about you, sweetheart?"

I clenched my jaw at the way he addressed Bronte. She didn't seem too happy about it either, but she kept her composure and ignored it. That was something I admired about her. She could keep cool and calm in any situation, no matter how doomed we were, or how stupid the bastards we had to deal with were. I had always wanted that quality, but I was hot-headed and impulsive, never really stopping to think about the consequences my actions could provoke.

"I'm doing the same," Bronte responded calmly, staring directly into the man's eyes. "I'm on my lunch break, so I thought I would help my colleague here search for the documents he needed."

The man was having none of it. "Where's your clearance?" I glanced anxiously at Bronte, who returned my gaze with equal concern. She didn't have a security card. Now we were in deep shit.

She pretended to dig around in her pockets for a few seconds, before sighing in annoyance. "I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "I must have left it at my desk."

I screwed my eyes shut. This was it. Where the fuck was Lemon. He was supposed to be watching out for anyone and warn us if they approached. But here we were, about to get busted for being in a secure records room in the White House with no security clearance. We were done for.

"Alright," the man grumbled, waving me away. "Get out of here, sir. I'm afraid your friend is in big trouble." He reached towards Bronte, grabbing her upper arm and leading her out of the room. I followed after them, trying not to break at the scared expression on my partner's face. She knew she was doomed too.

"What are you going to do?" I asked, seeing Lemon heading towards us with a confused look on his face out of my periphery. "She was with me."

"Doesn't matter." The man started to lead Bronte down the hall, his companions behind them. "No clearance, no access to this floor. This is a serious crime. I'm afraid I can't do anything about it."

Bronte glanced back at me, willing me to help her, but I couldn't move. All I wanted to do was whip out my gun and shoot them all dead on the spot. But the building was filled with people who could end us in seconds and the sound of gunshot would draw them all to us immediately.

I shot her a look of defeat and her face immediately fell, before contorting into that of anger. She knew me too well. I'm sorry, I mouthed guiltily, but she had turned away, just as they exited the room.

"What the hell happened?" Lemon asked, stepping up to stand beside me. "Why did they take her?"

I just stood there, my breath caught in my throat as my blood began to boil. "You fucking idiot!" I shouted at him, turning around to punch him hard in the chest. "Where the fuck were you?"

Lemon looked taken aback at my sudden outburst but I didn't care. They had just taken Bronte away—probably to prison—because my stupid brother had wandered off during his post. He just gawked at me in confusion. "I was making sure the hall was clear."

"Well, it bloody-well wasn't!" I exclaimed. "Now they're gonna lock her up and we'll never see her again!"

"Then why didn't you say anything?" Lemon asked quietly. "Why don't we go after them?"

I groaned in exasperation, dropping my head into my hands in defeat. "We still have a job to do," I muttered, already regretting my priorities. "We have to deliver this to the employer."

"Seriously?" Lemon looked as incredulous as I felt. "She's our fucking partner, Tangerine." He gestured to the end of the hall where Bronte and her captors had disappeared a moment before. "She's our friend; your best friend!"

"I know," I groaned, hating the conflicting emotions running through my head. "but she understands the importance of completing the job, right?" I looked at Lemon, urging him to agree with me but he didn't say anything He just looked at me with disappointment.

"If it were you or me they were dragging away, what would she do?"

I stared at him, with my mouth agape in surprise. It wasn't like Lemon to read into things like this. He was there to combat my impulsive attitude and to agree with my ideas, not to make me feel like shit about a stupid decision I couldn't take back.

He watched me intently, waiting for me to answer. I just stared at him, unable to speak as guilt began to course through my veins. But my brother waited patiently. He wasn't going to accept me not answering his question.

With a sigh of defeat, I responded. "She would have helped us." Lemon urged me on with an encouraging nod. I took a deep breath. "She wouldn't have stopped until we were safe."

"Damn right, she wouldn't," Lemon said forcefully. "So what are we going to do?"

I shook my head. "We'll be butchered if we don't get this to the employer."

Lemon sighed in acceptance. "Alright, man," he sighed. "But you're going to regret this."

I already did.

A/N: Who is more to blame here: Lemon or Tangerine?