Page 7 of Hot for Hostage

A black gun rested inside his waistband.

Time slowed to a crawl as I tried to remember Gladys’s warnings about the Reed family. She’d mentioned a gun.

Davian Reed would sooner murder a litter of puppies than do a good deed,she’d said. You’d have to hold a gun to his head just to make him hear you out.

If this wasn’t a sign, then I didn’t know what was.

Desperation seized me, and my hands moved before I could fully think things through. I leapt forward with my heart in my throat and grabbed for the gun. My fingers closed around the smooth grip before I tugged backward with all my might.

Vince lunged for me, but I slid back on the floor and pointed the gun up at Davian’s towering form.

Everyone froze. My frantic breaths were the only sound in the room.

“Don’t move,” I warned, scrambling to my feet and dusting off the backside of my overalls. One strap had fallen down, and I hiked it back up onto my shoulder before clutching the gun with both hands.

Was I doing this? Oh my god, I was really doing this.

My hands shook, but I pulled it together enough to level the gun right at Davian’s chest. A strange peace filled my own chest when his dark gaze returned to me.

Gladys was right.NowI had his attention.

taking mr. reed hostage

. . .

Davian

The day had taken a strange turn.

Either I was having one hell of a hangover, or Strawberry Shortcake herself was standing in front of me and pointing a gun at my chest.

Vince cursed beside me, and I barely held back a smirk despite the situation. No one ever got the jump on him—it was why he was my number two, after all—and if his piece weren’t currently pointed at me, I would’ve laughed my ass off at this little girl getting the better of him.

Except maybe she wasn’t so little. She’d grabbed the gun with a move too quick for either me or Vince to catch.

I was impressed.

Now she nibbled on her lower lip and looked as surprised to see the gun in her hands as we were. Her gaze flitted between me and Vince before settling on me.

“That was a nice grab,” I said, and Vince grunted next to me. He wasn’t as amused.

The girl’s brows pulled together, and she wiggled the gun like she was trying to look like a seasoned bank robber. “Put your hands up where I can see them. Both of you.”

I focused on the gun trembling in her hands. Neither of us made a move to comply.

“I said put your hands up,” she repeated, voice growing squeaky.

Okay, maybe I’d play along. I slowly lifted my hands in the air to ease her growing panic, pulling my eyes from the muzzle to take her in.

I’d written the girl off as a bubbly teenager when she came into the shop. With her short pink overalls and chipper voice, she exuded innocence. But there was nothing adolescent about the curves hugging her pint-sized figure.

Bubblegum pink hair. Wide grey eyes. So short she barely reached my chest. She was cute—in a frightened rabbit kind of way.

Not usually my type.

“That’s better,” she muttered as my and Vince’s hands hovered in the air. She chewed on that full lower lip again as she considered me, and her brows scrunched in a frown before she whispered, “Now what?”

I pursed my lips to hold in a laugh. Pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to hear that.

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