“You think you can out-shoot me?” he finally asks, more curious than combative. I’ll take it.
“Any other day, I’d challenge you to a competition for bragging rights. But not tonight. All I know is I’ve got two good arms and excellent aim while you only have one.”
He checks the mag. “Only one bullet left.”
“Can you promise it’ll end up where it needs to be with a bum arm?”
“Can you?”
“Yup.”
He shakes his head, but hands me the gun, and I hook it into the monstrous bow that has somehow stayed tight around my waist. This thing is ugly, but it’s proven it’s sturdy. I pick up the bundle of silk, keeping the knife in hand, in case we’re ambushed.
I turn to Xander, and before I can say anything, he taps my nose, the contact familiar while still making my heart race. “You’re just full of surprises,” he says.
“You’ve got no idea.”
His grin is bright in the dark. “Maybe not, but I’ve got a feeling I’m figuring them out. And I’m liking them all.”
My cheeks flush as I lead the way through the slabs, ignoring his flirting as both of us step silently across the gravel. We crouch just past the backhoe, out of the circle of light. A guard holds a pale Liam next to his grave, while Nat pontificates nearby, too quietly for us to hear her.
I tap Xander’s shoulder, and he inches closer, my bare knee brushing the seam of his jeans. And once again, my damn heart races. “I’ll take out the guard behind Liam,” I whisper. “Will you be able to get him out of here?”
“What about Morozov?”
“The kid’s his. I guess it’s my turn to be the kidnapper. Or at least a hostage taker. Sucks that it has to be a kid, though.”
“That’s savage.” He looks me over, then shrugs. “Sounds like a good plan, though. How are you going to get a drop on them? This place is lit up like an airport tarmac.”
Drop. Huh. Haven’t done anything this crazy since I last visited Abuelo’s jungle.“From there,” I say, pointing at the backhoe.
Xander blinks at me in the dark, a grin stealing across his face before his lips are on mine. This kiss is brutal, a flash of lips, tongue, and teeth. It’s over so fast that I half-tumble toward him. “More of that later, my sweet little savage,” he whispers, and slinks into the dark.
Later. I can do more later.
Turning to our targets, I note I don’t have much time. Morozov’s impatience with Nat pontificating is written in the tightness of his shoulders. So, I clamber up the backhoe, for once grateful that I’m small. Yeah, one of them might still see me climbing this thing like a jungle gym, but I’m a lot less noticeable than a six-foot-tall man.
And at this point, my peach dress has enough blood and mud on it, I should consider it a ghillie suit.
I’m in the bucket, tying the silk as quickly as I can into a shitty, black-tie appropriate rope, when Morozov announces that it’s time for him to take out Liam.
Nope. Not going to happen. That one’s mine.
Hopefully.
I yank the last knot tight, pop up, and with a flick of my wrist and a prayer, I fling the knife at the guard holding Liam.
For a second, I’m sure I’ve accidentally hit Liam, but I have no time to worry about my possibly terrible aim. Instead, I throw myself from the basket, the silk slippery in my hands as I careen down, kicking out at Morozov on my way past. The angle’s wrong, so it does nothing but force him to take a step back, but it still feels good.
Not as badass as I’d hoped, but I roll with my landing, my left wrist slamming into the gravel hard, then I’m up, grabbing Morozov junior and getting my gun in position before Morozov senior gets gun happy himself. “Freeze, or you’re out your only son,” I bark.
Morozov puts his hands up, his gun loose in his fingers. Xander slips up next to Liam in the corner of my eye. I want to make sure he’s okay, but I can’t risk shifting my focus right now. I’ve got the whole of the Morozov family to deal with on my own.
Morozov gives me a slow clap, his firearm dangling from one finger, his lips a mockery of a smile. “So what Natalia said is true, then? A little girl outclassed her scads of brothers and cousins. I never figured your grandfather would be the first to embrace such a modern mindset. A woman as an heir.”
The soft, surprised curses from the direction of the guys would distract me if I wasn’t wrestling with a squirmy and competently trained kid trying to break free of my grip, my wrist aching the longer I hold him.
“Hence the secret,” I say. “The old guard would put me under before I could prove myself. And look, here we are, with that exact problem. Thanks for that, Nat.”