Page 39 of Brutal Legacy

Georgia was fighting back with all she had, while the guy attacking her was trying to pin her down. I crossed to the bed in two long strides and pressed the gun to his temple.

“How aboutImake you, motherfucker,” I growled.

The struggle stopped, and Georgia’s huge, dark eyes stared up at me.

“Move. Now.” My tone held no room for refusal.

Georgia jerked into action, wriggling out from underneath the man.

“Listen, buddy, we can talk about this… we can make a deal,” the man was saying, his rank sweat stinking up the room.

“Pass.” I pulled the trigger.

The sound was loud in the small, close room. Georgia screamed as the side of her attacker’s head blew outward, his brains spattering against the wall beside the bed.

She fell to the floor and crab-walked backward until she hit the wall. Her eyes were fixed on the bed.

A red haze had descended over my eyes, a veil, and it was taking its sweet time to clear. What the fuck had I just done? There were a hundred ways to kill a man silently, and I’d acted like a hothead and shot him. A countdown started in my head for how long it would probably take the LAPD to show up. I had time. I needed to get a fucking grip.

“What did you do?” she panted, looking faintly horrified.

“Took care of your problem. You’re welcome.” I wiped the muzzle of my gun on the bedsheets.

“You’re welcome? You want me to thank you for shooting someone in the head right in front of me?”

“You can thank me for getting you to move. If not, you’d be bathed in the dead man’s blood right now.”

“Right… I didn’t get dirty, so I guess I’m fine,” she murmured faintly.

I shoved the gun in my waistband and grabbed a bag off the floor.

“Pack your things. We’re leaving. You have three minutes.”

“Three minutes. When are we coming back?”

“Never. Take anything you absolutely need, leave everything else. And it has to fit in the bag.”

“Wait! I can’t just leave.” She reached out and grabbed me as I went to leave the room.

“You can and you are. You now have two minutes.”

“Shit!” She scrambled to her feet, bursting into action.

“Georgia, let’s go.”I banged into her room two minutes later.

She spun around, in the process of trying to shove a box into her bag. I grabbed it and tossed it on the bed.

“Leave it, it doesn’t fit.”

“No! I have to take it,” she insisted and grabbed the box.

“I said leave it,” I growled at her, aware of time ticking away.

“No! No, I won’t leave it!” Her suddenly agonized shout grabbed my attention.

I focused on her properly. She was about a second away from a panic attack, it looked like. That would slow us down more than anything.

I slowly lifted my hand and pointed the gun at her.

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