Page 6 of Christmas Trouble

Stopping wasn’t in his nature.

Perhaps one day he would pay for it, but he had to trust that today was not that day.

“Get back!” the gunman shouted, but Azrael ignored the order.

Launching across the short distance, Azrael flew over and around the people lunging away.

It dawned on Azrael that the man’s biceps were as big as his thighs and the fucker towered over him, but that wouldn’t make any difference.

When one customer fell and cried out, Azrael used the fallen man as a step—much like a stepping stone or a launching pad. From his new vantage point, Azrael was close enough to the gunman to deliver a blow.

With a jab of his hand, Azrael caught the guy in the throat, cutting off air flow. The gunman gagged and gasped for air. His gun hand dropped, the other hand clutching at his throat. The robber gazed at him in shock.

With a quick step back, Azrael kicked the hand holding the gun. The weapon flew. Azrael heard the weapon thump to the floor and spin away to the tune of “White Christmas.”

“Get the gun,” Azrael told Tyler, lifting his voice above the noise of people shouting.

Chaos reigned, but Azrael only saw the robber.

Now disarmed, the man swung a meaty fist, but Azrael ducked and kicked again. This time he used the man’s own size against him and the momentum took the asshole’s legs out from beneath him.

When the robber crashed to the tiled floor, several nearby display stands went with him, crashing loudly.

“Got it,” Tyler said, locating the weapon and holding it out to him.

Azrael slid his knife back into its sheath at his hip and snatched the gun from Tyler. He turned on the robber, and before the guy could even think about sitting up, Azrael was there.

Bending over the man, Azrael pressed the barrel of the gun to the fucker’s temple.

“Move and I’ll finish you,” Azrael whispered and felt the guy melt into the floor.

Just for shits and giggles, one of Real’s sayings this time, Azrael sat on the guy’s back while holding the gun steady.

What had felt like ten minutes since Azrael had entered the store, in reality had only been three at most.

“Thank you, oh my God, thank you,” the cashier said and then burst into tears. Her and two coworkers stood hugging each other tightly.

“Holy shit,” a woman still in line said.

“Wow. That was fucking awesome,” another shopper chimed in.

Customers started crowding around Azrael and Tyler, but Azrael heard the talking as if from inside a tunnel. His focus was on the gunman beneath him. Right now though, he was fighting the desire to slit the man’s throat.

The gun in Azrael’s hand felt foreign. Oh, he was proficient with handguns because of his job, but he was way more comfortable using knives.

Perhaps it was the blood thing. Seeing it seep, up close and personal, out of people who didn’t deserve to live was enjoyable to—

“You okay,” Tyler whispered, stepping closer, interrupting his bloody thoughts.

“Right as rain.” He had heard Real use that expression several times, and for some reason, it had stuck.

“You don’t look it,” Tyler’s voice was soft.

Adrenaline pumped through Azrael’s veins, but he needed to stay steady. He would let the nerves take over later. He really needed to find a better way to get rid of stress. Dave had suggested slowing his breathing and shit, but he couldn’t do it. Not right now.

All Azrael wanted at this moment was to be outside. Even at home, he spent most of his time on the roof beneath the stars.

Azrael needed to get out of this fucking place and fast, but he continued to sit on the robber even though he hated the walls that were closing in on him.

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