Free The Invisible Amateur by Amelia Price Page B

Myron. He sat with
his body turned slightly away from him, and his fists were clenched
into white-knuckled balls. Myron sat with his chin high, as he
often did when he was annoyed with something but unwilling to
explain, and didn't even glance at either of them. The atmosphere
of anger and silence grew worse with each long minute that
passed.
    Eventually the
Russian guards picked up on it as well, and Amelia noticed they
looked back and forth between the two Holmes brothers to see who
was going to say something first. It wasn't long before Amelia was
doing the same, but neither spoke, and after an hour she wondered
if either were ever going to.
    Despite the men
who sat opposite, Amelia felt herself calming down. She was a
prisoner, but she was with the two smartest men in the world, and
the Russians had holstered their guns. For now, there was time to
think of a way out, or wait for a rescue. Daniels would know
something had gone wrong by now as well.
    When another hour
had ticked by, she found her mind churning over ideas without
waiting for the men either side of her to come up with something.
They were either waiting for an opportunity, or not able to think
of something if nothing had happened in the hour or so that had
already passed. It was important that she try to follow their line
of thoughts. If the right opening came along, she might need to see
it and act without instructions, as well.
    It took her
several minutes to come up with a few sensible ideas of what might
provide an escape attempt. At some point the guards would need to
change, and there was also the possibility that the rest of the
terrorists arriving back might create a distraction. For scope,
that wasn't much to go on, and she felt her heart sink when the two
North Koreans came into the room and switched with the Russians
without there being a single potential moment for escape.
    She spent the next
few minutes fighting the despair that wanted to overwhelm her
emotions and rubbing feeling back into her fingers. The twine was
mercilessly tight, and she knew it wouldn't be loosened, even if
she did her best at being charming. A small smile crept across her
lips at her line of thought. Sebastian and Myron wouldn't be
surprised that her thinking had gone in that direction. They knew
she liked to use her female nature to aide her cause.
    A few seconds
later she had to wipe the larger smile that threatened to show from
her face and try to look like nothing had occurred in her mind.
She'd just had the perfect idea to create an opportunity and help
the men either side of her. It might even be enough to make Myron
forgive her for a whole array of grievances.
    After planning out
exactly what she'd do, Amelia waited for the right moment. It would
need to be done well, or she'd only make things worse.
     
     

Chapter 9
    Anger and pain
were the focus points in Mycroft's mind. The pain would keep him
awake and his body running on adrenaline, and the anger would fuel
his resolve to get out of the mess they were in. Both would be
needed before the night was over.
    Ever since
arriving at the terrorists' house, nothing had gone according to
plan. Sherlock had been late through from his location, giving
Mycroft too many men to handle alone, and he'd caught his foot on
the fabric of the first terrorist's trousers and knocked a vase off
a small table by the front door. Instead of going down quietly, the
Russian had made a loud noise and alerted everyone in the building
to his presence.
    Although they
might have coped had Sherlock been on schedule for his half of the
plan, Mycroft knew it was his fault they'd been caught. He'd been
clumsy, something practice would have avoided. It resulted in his
anger being directed partially at himself, but plenty more had
flared when he'd seen Amelia emerge with Sherlock. The stupid girl
hadn't gone back to the hotel, where she'd have been safe.
    Now he was sat in
the middle of a room that stunk of male body-odour with both Amelia
and