Tristan was gripping his knees, trying to hold himself in place as he watched the computer screens where Colleen started walking.
The Rogue Security mercenaries were tying up the last remaining Russian bratva kidnappers, but one swiped an arm at Colleen’s foot as she flitted by.
Watching her narrowly evade danger roiled Tristan’s stomach.
While the mercenaries seemed to be looking out for her, their primary objective was to strike quickly and rescue the hostages.
One of the mercenaries had already cut Jian free. He was sitting on the bed, rubbing his wrists, when Colleen dashed in and spoke to him.
Anjali wasn’t in the bedroom with him.
Thinking back, he wasn’t sure he’d heard Anjali’s voice over Jian’s hijacked phone for the past several hours.
Oh, no.
If anything had happened to Anjali, Colleen was going to fall apart.
Tristan was running before he knew he’d made the decision.
The field where Rogue Security had set up their base of operations was near the back side of the resort where there were many more fields and much less reflected light.
Running around to the front of the hotel would take too much time, and Tristan didn’t have a key card to operate the elevator to take him to the top floor or a nifty device that would electronically unlock the stairwell door.
There was another way into the presidential suite, though.
Tristan ran to the ropes that were dangling under the balcony, grabbed one, wound his leg in the tail of it, and started climbing.