Page 24 of Hot for Hostage

Fessy bent forward with a grunt. His brow scrunched in confusion, then pain flashed across his face, and his leg drew everyone’s attention.

Blood gushed from his thigh.

He stared at the wound in shock—I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, either—then screamed loud enough to burst my eardrums.

Which made me scream, too.

And then his friends joined in.

I looked at Davian in alarm, but he just stood there—cool as a cucumber—with a gun pointed right at Fessy.

The broom dropped from my hands and clattered to the floor.

“What the frick? Youpsycho,” Fessy yelled at Davian. His voice had gone all high-pitched and squeaky, and he clutched his thigh as blood poured down his leg. “You shot me?”

My body swayed as I stared at the growing puddle of blood.

Fessy’s screaming friends moved like they didn’t know whether to help him or scatter, and Davian’s men both pulled out their own guns as my shock kept me frozen.

When the screaming didn’t stop, Davian raised his arm and rapid-fired three shots into the roof of the garage. I flinched at each one. “Shut thehellup.”

Everybody froze, and the only sound in the garage was Fessy’s labored breathing.

Well, my rescue plan had officially gotten out of hand.

migraine

. . .

Davian

So, this was what the beginning of a migraine felt like.

“I must be losing my touch, because I keep having to repeat myself today.” I pointed the gun at Fessy’s other leg, losing my patience. “Give us the damn dog, or you’ll find out how many bullets I have left.”

He was still staring at his thigh like he’d never seen blood before, and none of his crew moved to help or pull out their own weapons.

Amateurs.

“The dog,” I bit out on a growl.

Fessy whimpered before yelling at his boys. “You heard him. Get the freaking mutt!”

Four of his crew scattered out the back of the garage. The one left behind hoisted Fessy under the arm and dragged the boy back into their office with lots of screaming from Fessy.

My ears rang.

I tempered my glare before turning to Sadie, but she was too busy gaping at the growing trail of blood on the floor.

Her shock was a wake-up call. She was new to this.

I grunted and holstered the gun before walking over to her, still pissed she’d even shown up. She didn’t notice my approach,and I didn’t stop until I was close enough to brush a strand of hair off her cheek—which I did. “Don’t look at it, sweetheart.”

Her wide gaze snapped to mine before narrowing. “I’m not your sweet?—”

“Good, you aren’t in shock.” I smiled wryly. “Care to tell me what the hell you planned to do with a broom?”

She glanced back at the blood before shrugging. “There wasn’t time for a plan. I winged it.”

---