Page 113 of Hot Chocolate & Hitmen

Atlas lets out a curse, taking another guy to the ground with a headlock, and as he twists the man into a chokehold, I see another gun slip from his opponent’s grip. I dive for it, slidingacross the floor and scooping it up just in time to aim at an attacker advancing on Grace. I fire off a shot, but the gun jams. Figures.

With no time to fix it, I toss it aside, grabbing a chair and swinging it hard, breaking it over the guy’s head. The blow staggers him, giving me an opening to kick his legs out from under him. The guy crashes to the floor, dazed, and I slam a boot into his throat, keeping him down.

“Key, here!” Grace’s voice is shaking but steady, and she tosses me a heavy skillet. I catch it, hefting its weight as I eye two more attackers breaking through the doorway.

I don’t wait. I lunge forward, using the skillet to bat the gun out of the first guy’s hands before bringing it down hard on his head. He drops, and I spin just in time to dodge a shot from the second guy. I grit my teeth, twisting and using the pan as a blunt weapon, landing a hard hit to his shoulder that sends him stumbling back into Atlas, who finishes him off with a quick, brutal twist of his neck.

Grace is crouched behind the table again, eyes wide but focused, gripping her knife with white-knuckled determination. She looks up at me, and I can see she’s ready for whatever comes next. Fear and resolve mingling in her gaze.

“Stay behind cover,” I remind her, hoping she’ll listen, and then I’m back in the fray, moving as fast as I can.

It’s a chaotic, brutal dance–dodging bullets, grabbing whatever’s within reach to use as a weapon. Atlas finds a broken chair leg, turning it into a club, while Teddy grabs a handful of shattered glass ornaments and flings it at an attacker’s face, blinding him long enough to finish him off.

We’re battered, bruised, and outnumbered, but we’re holding our ground.

Just as I start to catch my breath, I hear Grace let out a sharp gasp. I whip around, my heart seizing as I see an attackergrabbing her from behind, his arm wrapped tight around her shoulders. Pressing her back against his chest, his other hand reaches for his belt. Her knife clatters to the floor as she struggles against him, her face twisted in fear and anger.

Rage ignites inside me, white-hot and blinding. Without a single second of hesitation, I lunge forward, sweeping up Grace’s dropped knife and impaling it in the guy’s side. I sweep my leg out while simultaneously pulling Grace out of his arms, and he falls to the floor taking the knife with him.

My eyes lock on the remnants of our dinner, specifically the turkey sitting right in the middle of the chaos. With a split second inner apology to Grace’s hard work going to waste, I grab it, hefting it up and slamming it down over his head as he attempts to stand once more. He only manages to get to his knees when the greasy mess squelches as it crashes down hard, covering his head.

Grace, quick as ever, doesn’t waste a second. With her face set with fierce determination, she swings her boot between his legs with all the strength she’s got. He lets out a choked howl, his knees buckling as he crashes to his back, hands flying to his crotch as he curls up in pain. The turkey nearly suffocating him, completely forgotten.

I grab Grace’s arm and position myself between her and the guy writhing on the floor. My breath comes in hard, angry gasps, and I quickly pull the knife from his side and slide it across his throat with a flick of my wrist.

“Atlas,” I yell, turning and spinning Grace in his direction as the next wave of attackers charges in, and the chaos swells again.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I’m already moving the second I see Key turn toward me, practically tossing Grace in my direction. She stumbles into my arms, her breath coming fast, eyes wide as she clings to my shirt for balance. Key’s gaze locks onto another attacker, and I know he’s about to throw himself back into the fight that has somehow migrated to the living room.

“Stay close to me, Sugar,” I murmur, steadying her. My grip on her tightens as I scan the room, calculating. More of these bastards are coming in, their footsteps heavy as they flood the place. Well, if they want a fight, I’m more than ready to give them one.

One of the guys closes in on us, weapon raised, and I glance around for anything, anything at all. My eyes land on the string of Christmas lights hanging above us, their multi-colored glow casting shadows along the walls. Perfect.

Without hesitation, I push Grace down low behind the tree, out of the line of sight. I yank the strand of lights from the wall, the bulbs snapping and crackling in my hands as I pull them down. Wrapping the string around my fists, I step back intothe open, swinging the lights like a makeshift garrote, ready to strike.

The first guy lunges at me, gun drawn, but I twist to the side, looping the lights around his wrist. He tries to pull away, but I yank him forward, the glass bulbs digging into his skin, shredding his sleeve as he yells out in pain. I tighten my grip, pulling him closer until he’s face-to-face with me.

“Merry Christmas, asshole,” I growl, jerking the lights hard, and his weapon clatters to the floor. With a quick spin, I use the lights to fling him into the wall, watching with satisfaction as he crashes into a display of decorations.

The second guy is already advancing with his fists raised, and I know I’ve only got seconds. I duck under his swing, wrapping the string of lights around his neck and pulling tight. The bulbs pop and crack, a burst of multi-colored lights sparking in the dim room as I drag him back, the lights cutting into his skin. He claws at his throat, struggling, but I hold him firm, pressing him back into the corner.

“Atlas!” Grace’s voice pulls my attention, and I see another guy heading straight for her. Fury surges through me, and I toss the guy in my grasp aside, watching him crumple before I lunge across the room, sliding between Grace and her attacker.

The guy’s eyes flick to me, gun raised, but I’ve still got the remnants of the lights wrapped around my hands. With a quick, fierce movement, I swing the string at his face, the shattered bulbs slicing into his cheek, blinding him with a flash of sparks and pain.

He stumbles, so I charge forward, landing a brutal punch to his jaw that sends him crashing to the ground. I keep my gaze fixed on him as I stalk forward, using my boot to stomp on his face until I’m sure he won’t be moving anymore.

Turning back, I see Grace watching me, her eyes wide, her expression somewhere between awe and shock. I reach for her,grabbing her hand, and pull her close. “You all right?” I ask, my voice rough but steady.

She nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

“Good.” I wrap an arm around her, holding her tight against my side as I survey the room, my jaw set. “Then let’s finish this.”

I barely get a second to steady Grace before another guy charges around the corner right towards us. I keep Grace behind me and glance around, searching for anything I can use–and there it is, a gaudy, glittering Christmas wreath hanging on the wall. I rip it down, the fake holly and berries scratching at my palms as I swing it like a shield.

The guy closes in, but I slam the wreath into his face, the prickly branches scraping his skin. Losing his footing, I’m on him before he can right himself. With no hesitation, I shove the wreath around his neck and yank down hard. He chokes, clawing at the branches digging into his throat, his face turning red as he tries to free himself. With a grunt, I twist until it’s so tight around his neck that it won’t budge. Kicking him as hard as I can, I send him stumbling into a pile of broken glass and holiday debris.

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