WICKED INTENTIONS { Completed}

Chapter 22

Shakira took a step back, then another.

"Where's the thumb-drive?" Gates repeated stalking her step for step.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She was surprised her voice sounded so serene and deliberate considering that her mind was alternating between racing out of control and calculating her chances of outrunning the FBI Agent. Her mind came up with a result.

No chance.

There was no way she could outrun a man as fit as Gates and a veteran at chasing down suspects unless she somehow incapacitated him. Shakira subtly dropped her phone in her purse and her grip on the purse's straps tightened as she gathered her strength and nerves. A few more steps back and she could act.

"Don't lie to me. I saw you and your friend talking about it." Breathing hard, Gates stared at her wildly and prowled another step closer. "Where is it?" His gaze panned in on the purse. "Is it in there?"

It was.

"I have no idea what you're talking ab..." Shakira's words faltered as her back hit the door.

Now or never.

"Is it in there?" Gates repeated again, all his attention on the bag. "Is it in there?"

He lunged for Shakira just as she swung her purse with all her might.

Gates staggered back with the force of the blow giving Shakira just the lead she needed. She shoved her back against the door, sending it flying outwards and stumbled out of the building. The moment the cold draft hit her face she started running. Panic pulsed through her blood like liquid power, accelerating her pulse and pumping additional speed into her limbs as she took off down the pavement. She ran as hard as she could, her purse flapping against her side.

But it wasn't enough.

His heavy footfalls pounded fast after her. She ran faster than she had since her high school track days. It still wasn't enough. The harder she ran, the closer they came until she could hear his breathe practically raising the hairs at the nape of her neck. Still she ran. It was only when her t-shirt bit into her neck and upper back as he roughly hauled her back that Shakira realized it was over.

She turned to Gates swinging the bag again in terrified defense. This time he grabbed it and didn't let go.

"Give it to me." His face was a furious mask as he tried to wrench the bag away from her. "Give it to me."

Shakira should've let it go. She really should've. But her fear had mingled with uncontrollable fury and rationality flew out the window. She was not giving him that thumb-drive. Screw him. He was not getting her thumb-drive. She clawed for a solid grip on the black leather as she pulled just as hard.

"Give it to me," Gates barked almost ripping her arms out of their sockets with the force of his yanks. Shakira didn't give. She struggled just as hard, glaring at him with eyes almost as wild as his.

"Step away from the lady." The words came from somewhere beside Shakira but somehow seemed so far off that they weren't enough to break her concentration. She pulled harder on her purse as did Gates.

"Step away from the lady," the man repeated and then added, "or I'll shoot."

It was the 'I'll shoot' part that popped the tense bubble surrounding the two people fighting for possession of the purse. Gates jerked his head sharply towards the voice as did Shakira. Her gaze zeroed in on the gleaming muzzle that hovered barely ten feet away from them and her heart lurched in immediate fear. Gates must've been in shock too because his grip on her purse slackened.