Page 91 of Extracted

Dallas rested his hands on the woman’s hips. Her ass, covered in a short purple dress, was on his lap. It took all his willpower not to throw her to the damn floor.

Not that any of this was her fault. But touching another woman made his skin crawl.

He was really fucked. But he couldn’t examine the guilt beating against his chest right now. Not when he had to somehow grab the gun at his ankle and shoot Silas without harming either of the women.

Candy, or Sandy, whatever her name was, shimmied in a way that normally would have stirred desire in his blood.

She turned and looked at him over her shoulder, and her pouty lips worked into a grin. “Wanna go somewhere quieter, Daddy?”

His stomach revolted at the endearment. “Nah. I’ve got business here. Would you do me a favor and fill my drink?”

Her smile widened. “I’ll do a lot more than that.” She scooped up his glass from the table next to the black leather sofa pushed against the wall on the far side of the room. A large window lay to his right, positioned between the sofa and the desk and across the room, beyond where Silas sat, was the door leading out to the club.

Dallas glanced out of the corner of his eye, to his left. Silas’s gun rested on the glass table next to Silas. He occupied a leather armchair that matched the couch Dallas sat in. The woman he was with had plastered herself against his chest. She straddled him, her mouth on his neck.

Sonofabitch.

He couldn’t get off a clear shot. He’d have to get the woman away from Silas first. Dallas moved his gaze to Candy/Sandy and watched as she set his glass on the little bar in the corner of the room and poured the liquor.

Now or never.

He bent low and pulled the gun from the holster at his ankle. His hand closed around the smooth metal, calming the nerves that were making his muscles pulse. “You,” he barked at the woman on Silas.

She jerked her head toward him.

“Other side of the room with your friend.” He flicked his gun, and she scooted off Silas, covering her cleavage and tugging down the hem of her dress as she ran to the minibar.

Candy let out a squeak.

“Quiet,” he commanded to the woman, standing to face Silas.

Silas’s face contorted. “I knew you were involved, you fucker. What are you, FBI?”

“Nope.” He glanced at the woman who’d sat on his lap moments before, as she seemed the calmer of the two. “Candy, grab a chair and put it under the door handle.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Silas sent her a withering glare. His hand inched toward his gun.

“Keep your hands up!” he yelled at Silas. “Move,” he said to Candy. “Because when I kill this cocksucker, his men are going to come in and fire and I’d rather you two not get shot.”

Candy jumped into action. She grabbed the chair in front of the desk and pushed it under the door. If his men blew out the locked door handle, at least the chair would hold them off a couple more seconds. Hopefully he could help the women get out the window.

“Good. Now grab his gun and bring it to me,” he instructed Candy.

She nodded, moved across the room, scooped up the weapon, and handed it to him. He stuffed it in the back of his pants.

“Back with your friend,” he told her.

Silas inched forward in his seat. Dallas cocked his gun. “Don’t fucking move.” His heart pounded. Once he pulled the trigger, he had to move quickly. He backpeddled, keeping the weapon locked on Silas, and yanked the blinds up.

“Who’re you working for? You were responsible for the bomb, too?”

Dallas motioned for the women to move closer to the window. They complied. “No. I had nothing to do with that. But the woman you’re trying to kill, the one you think planted the bomb, is innocent. And I won’t let you hunt her another minute.” He turned to Candy. “Open the window and get out of here. Move quickly.”

Silas seethed. “My men will find you.”

Candy hiked up the window and climbed through. Good thing they were on the main floor. Once the women were safely outside, he moved closer to Silas.

“No, they won’t. Because I’ll kill them too.”

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