The Billionaire's Assistant

Chapter 99

She heard the click of the gun hammer before she could turn, and Kat felt her knees become jelly as she realized someone was directly next to her, pressing a gun to her head.

Brent.

She swallowed hard.

"Andy, please," she began, not even bothering with Brent whose energy she could feel right upon her, who was lost, lost within loss.

"Save it," said Andy. "And I do mean literally. C'mon," she said with a wave as if Kat were following her voluntarily.

Kat took a few hesitant steps forward until Brent pushed at her back, speeding her up. Almost stumbling but keeping her balance, Kat unwillingly followed Andy up a set of stairs onto a ledge that oversaw the floor, clearly meant for a supervisor to be able to observe the plants workers.

The ledge was dual leveled, with the higher level sporting another lower ledge beneath it and the entire area encircled by low rows of metal railing painted a peeling taupe.

Andy walked over to a small black rectangle on the floor that Kat identified as her briefcase. Andy grabbed something from it then walked back over to Kat, grinning all the way.

"Call him," she commanded, holding out Kat's cellphone.

"I don't," Kat began.

"Call him," Andy insisted more forcefully, her tone starting to match her eyes.

"I don't have his number," Kat squeaked.

Andy looked at her skeptically.

"You don't have his number?"

Kat shook her head.

Andy scoffed.

"Why don't you have his number?"

Kat shrugged.

"It felt weird to ask after a while," she said finally, more truthfully than she likely should've.

Andy narrowed her eyes incredulously.

"You can't be serious. Jesus. You actually don't have his number?"

Kat shook her head.

Andy's eyes flicked over Kat's shoulder to Brent, clearly at a loss.

"Well, call."

She stopped, thinking.

"Call somebody. You need to talk to him now. Or things won't be good for you."

Andy was clearly thrown from her rhythm.

"Call his job," she said. "Or call his apartment, I'm sure you spent enough time there."

"I don't know the numbers," said Kat sheepishly.

Andy rolled her eyes.

"Jesus christ. Get him on the phone, now."

"Ok, ok," said Kat, thinking of her only possible option. "Ok."

She dialed one of the only numbers she knew by heart, the first one she'd ever learned, and Martha, reliable as ever, picked up on the first ring.

"Spatchy's," she said, and Kat could've wept at the sound of her voice.

"Hey mom," she croaked. "Um, can you do me a favor?"

"Kat, what's wrong?" her mom rushed out, already aware that something was amiss. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Kat. "Nothing. I just need you to do me a favor."

"Sure Kitty," she said, clearly still suspicious.

"You see the car sitting on the opposite side of the street? The black one, with the really dark tint?"

"The fancy one?" her mom asked.

"Yea," Kat confirmed, thanking god he was still there. "I need you to write down the number I'm calling from and go outside and give it to him, tell him Kat needs to talk to him right now."

"And you're sure you're ok?" her mother asked again.

"I love you mom," Kat said in lieu of a proper response. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Kat." her mother said, concern and hesitation dripping from each word. "I'll see you soon, ok?"

"Ok," said Kat quietly, hanging up.

She looked up at Andy.

"He's gonna call," she said, feeling the faintest twist of the cool metal as Brent adjusted his grip around the gun.