Maggie tapped Emily’s face as panic welled inside her. Was she too late? Had the doctor already administered a dose of something else? Something lethal?
“Emily. Emily wake up.”
Emily didn’t move.
“Emily,” Maggie said again, louder this time.
Nothing.
Sliding out of one of her gloves, Maggie placed the back of her hand above Emily’s lips and waited with bated breath.
Maggie released a deep sigh when she felt it. It was shallow, but Emily was breathing. She was still alive.
Digging into her pockets, Maggie brought out a small vial and unscrewed the cap. She placed the smelling salts under Emily’s nose and waited.
Emily’s eyes shot open and her body jerked away from the smell. Maggie secured her by the shoulders as she came too, her clouded brain trying to catch up with where she was. They must have drugged her again after questioning.
Bastards.
“It’s me,” Maggie whispered, wiping Emily’s clammy face free from her braids. “Can you sit up?”
She groaned as Maggie hoisted her into a sitting position, holding a hand to her head. Maggie knew the feeling. Emily was in for a killer headache.
“Do you think you can walk?” Maggie asked. They couldn’t hang around any longer than necessary.
Emily’s eyes widened, peering over Maggie’s shoulder. “Watch out!”
Maggie spun in time to see Danielle striding towards her from the hallway. She shoved Emily back and stood her ground, ready to come face to face with the woman whose botched mission caused all of this.
“Come on!” Maggie yelled in fluent Russian, springing forward to meet Danielle.
The women clashed in a collision of fists and anger.
Maggie evaded a kick aimed at her stomach and thrashed out with her baton. Danielle leaned back to dodge the swing, but it clipped her on the nose and she reeled back, swearing as blood oozed from her nostrils.
“You’re not taking her,” Danielle rasped, her Russian flawed and rudimentary.
Charging for Maggie again, Danielle flogged Maggie in the face with an open palm. It caught Maggie off guard, assuming the agent was coming at her with a kick. Danielle used the delay in response to swipe her leg under Maggie’s ankles and send her to the ground.
Maggie careened back and slammed into the floor. The baton slipped from her hands and rolled out of sight.
The fall was awkward and knocked the air from Maggie’s lungs. Before she had time to suck in air, Danielle was on her, falling towards her with her arm reaching back and ready to plant a fist square in her face.
Rolling to the side, Maggie missed the attack and rushed to her feet on shaking legs. Danielle was back on her feet, too, just as fast as Maggie.
“Bitch” Maggie swore, her tone lower than normal and gruff to ward off any suspicion of her identity. Danielle would be expecting Russians, and that was what Maggie gave her.
With a cry, Danielle shot forward again and lashed out with a foray of jabs. Maggie took the brunt of them, each one sorer than the other as Danielle began to build momentum.
Danielle was good. More than good.
But Maggie was better.
Letting Danielle believe she was gaining the upper hand, Maggie stumbled backwards, inching closer and closer to the foot of the stairs at the end of the hallway. Danielle twisted her hips and raised her leg into a kick.
Spotting the opportunity needed, Maggie choreographed herself with the kick and scooped Danielle’s leg into her arm. Maggie pulled the leg towards her in a death grip and reached forward for Danielle. Her fingers wrapped around the collar of the woman’s jacket and Maggie pulled her forwards.
With her leg pinned, Danielle was unable to do anything but go with it. Maggie stepped to the side as Danielle fell out from the top steps and she shoved the agent forward.
There was nothing but air at the top of the stairs, Danielle flew forward with the forced momentum and plummeted down the stairs. Maggie watched as she bumped down every step until reaching the bottom where she landed in a crumbled mess of limps.
A few broken ribs, maybe a fractured bone here or there in her arms and legs. Nothing that wouldn’t heal in time.
Certain Danielle wasn’t getting back up, Maggie ignored the guilty rumblings in her stomach and returned to the office.
“Maggie?” Emily asked, uncertain.
Maggie took off her balaclava and knelt by the table Emily was using to keep herself standing. “It’s me. Are you okay?”
“I think so,” Emily said, her voice sluggish from the drugs. “Are you?”
The fighting had stopped below on the workshop floor and Ashton’s contacts were rallying up the fallen agents and binding their hands with plastic zip ties. That would keep them busy for a while once they came to.
“I’ve had worse,” Maggie said, holding Emily by the waist and wrapping the girl’s arm over her shoulder. “Now come on, let’s get you out of here.”
The agents may be down, but Maggie and Emily weren’t out of hot water just yet.