I, Spy [Zayn]

Chapter Three

"I'm Mila, by the way."

Zayn looked at her, studying the way her hands shook and her chest heaved with every ragged breath. She's scared, he realized. With a curt nod, he gently pushed past her to pick up his gun, placing it into his weapons belt next to the one he had picked up only minutes earlier.

He took a deep breath. "Malik," was all that he said, giving her a brief smile. Truthfully, he felt embarrassed that an awkward, little woman had been the one to save his life. No one had saved his life in years - it was usually he who saved others.

He looked down at his belt and then back up at her. She wore a confused expression. "Could I at least get your first name?"

"Zayn," he corrected and she smiled at him. He glanced down at the shoe she held in her hand and grinned. "Why didn't you just kick him?"

She gave him yet another confused glance but smiled when she saw his eyes on the item in her hands. "I'm not a big fan of heels to be honest. Besides, these ones were bought in a sale - they're not the best."

He stared at her. He'd never been able to understand the love women had for shoes. To him, they were just things you wore to protect your feet, nothing more. He looked down at her bare feet and frowned.

"You'll have to put something on your feet."

She nodded in agreement, wiggling her toes. "I have some flats in my suitcase - back in the compartment."

Zayn let out a sigh. "Well, you better run back and get them. Be quick or I'll leave without you," he warned, watching as she took off. His eyes lingered on her backside for a moment too long and he shook his head to avert his gaze.

He knelt down beside the man that Mila had knocked out. His pockets were empty, and so was his weapons belt. Already, Zayn had managed to take someone's gun and knife. Inspecting the wound on the back of the man's head made him cringe. How the fuck can a shoe do that? he wondered, looking at the faint dent that was started to bruise.

"She complained about me nearly killing someone," he heard himself muttering. Footsteps sounded behind him and he turned to find Mila making her way back towards him, no longer holding a shoe. Wearing flat shoes made her look smaller than ever, and Zayn grinned at her shortness.

"Let's go, then," Mila said, her voice quiet. He nodded to her and stepped over the unconscious man before heaving open the door of the carriage. The temperature dropped as the outside air made its way into the train and Mila shuddered. Zayn looked over his shoulder to make sure she was OK, but the slight green tinge to her face made him frown.

"You OK?" he asked.

"I didn't kill him, did I?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at the man.

Zayn shook his head. "Just bashed his head in a little. He's fine."