Page 129 of Hot for Hostage

Geez. I needed to get ahold of myself.

Davian pulled out a zip tie and let go of my hand to restrain the man’s wrists behind his back. Then he tugged me down the hallway, where more muffled yells and bangs traveled from downstairs as we reached the next fork in the road.

“Stay behind me,” Davian ordered, voice low. I squeezed his hand in answer.

We took a right, just like Nasir had said.

At first glance, the hallway was empty.

… Until it wasn’t.

We barely made it two steps before another man in dark clothes with a thick beard barreled down the short hallway toward us, and I had no idea where he came from. Davian acted fast, raising his gun, and I sucked in a breath as fear paralyzed me.

My gasp wasn’t lost on him, and for a terrifying fleeting moment, Davian lowered the gun as his gaze snapped to me.

Then our attacker drew his own gun from behind his back, and my heart dropped into my stomach at how badly I’d screwed up asking Davian not to shoot anyone.

Son of a dogbiscuit.

“No!” I shouted, leaping forward and swinging my broom at the goon just as a loudbangdeafened me.

Time slowed to a crawl. I’d been aiming for his face, but the broom sailed down in an arc that hit his hand—very effectively knocking the gun right out of his grip.

Davian swooped in, taking over with a fist to the man’s face before following it up with another hit.

Panic surged in my veins, and I frantically checked Davian and myself for any bullet wounds. Maybe adrenaline stopped me from feeling it. But there was no sign of blood on either of us.

Forcing myself to stay focused on the task at hand, I held my broom at the ready—just in case Davian needed some backup.

But he seemed to be doing just fine on his own as he grabbed the man’s short ponytail and smashed his head against the wall—making his body slump to the floor and go still.

That was when I saw the blood pooling beneath the goon’s thigh.

Davian had shot him.

My stomach protested violently, and I took deep breaths to fight off the nausea.

Davian pulled out another zip tie and quickly restrained the unconscious man while looking up at me. “You okay?”

My ears rang at the simple question. I placed a hand over my stomach and inhaled deeply through my nose—focusing on not puking—then exhaled through my mouth.

It was easier if I kept my eyes on Davian instead of the blood. “I think so.” I gulped. “Is he…alive?”

“Yeah. He’ll be fine.” Davian’s lips twitched, dangerously close to a smile. He nodded toward my broom. “That was a nice hit.”

I laughed nervously but kept my mouth shut about it. Davian didn’t need to know I’d been aiming for the man’s face.

“I’m sorry,” I said as my laughter faded. Guilt settled heavily in my stomach. “I didn’t know he had a gun, and it was my fault you almost didn’t shoot.”

Davian straightened and approached me, a quick touch of his hand to my hip turning me away from the bleeding man. “Don’t be sorry. We still took care of him.”

That we had. A wave of relief at both of us being okay made me giddy, and I twirled the broom in my hand—almost accidentally smacking myself in the face. “You know, with your scary mafia badassery and my broom skills, we make a pretty good team.”

Davian tried his best to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t hide the laughter gleaming in his eyes. “We do, but what happened to staying behind me?”

I stopped my broom-twirling and shrugged innocently. “I wanted to help.”

Davian shook his head, and a smile finally slipped through. “I shouldn’t have expected anything less.”

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