Page 30 of Kissing Danger

Deacon still stood outside the door, clutching onto the doorframe with his attention still hyper-focused on Caprice’s hitman. He didn’t even seem to notice the two bodyguards stalking toward him.

I always tailored my suits specifically to fit well, but also allow ease of movement. It came in handy when I had to movequickly. Dropping down into a low crouch, I swept the legs out from under the nearest bodyguard, while pulling my gun from its holster at the same time. When I was younger, such a move would have been easy, but now my knees protested the sudden strain. It wasn’t enough to throw off my balance, I didn’t even stumble, but it was a reminder of the passage of time.

Someday, I wouldn’t be able to fight my own fights, but today was not that day.

The bodyguard that I’d tripped rolled with her fall and quickly regained her footing, but it was just enough time for me to get a shot off at the second bodyguard. The one I shot clutched her shoulder, wounded but not dead. Before she could recover, I kicked the gun out of her hand, then dodged as the first bodyguard finally found enough balance to try and shoot me.

A bullet lodged in the wall not far from my head.

If I let myself get caught between the two of them, I’d have a difficult fight on my hands. My own gun could only fire one bullet at a time. No matter which one I shot, the other would still be able to take me out.

Who should I shoot?

Making my decision, I turned abruptly and shot Caprice. The bullet struck her low in the gut. It wasn’t an immediately fatal wound, but it could take her life if she didn’t get medical treatment soon.

The surprise of hearing their leader suddenly cry out in pain distracted the bodyguards just long enough for me to shoot the nearest one in the head, then turn my gun on the remaining one.

We stared each other down. Eye to eye and gun to gun. A single pull of the trigger would end it all.

“Stand down,” an unexpected voice suddenly shouted.

Not daring to look away from the bodyguard still aiming their gun at me, I turned just enough to see what was going on with my peripheral vision.

Caprice’s hitman stood with his arm around Deacon’s throat, and a gun at Deacon’s head.

“Put your gun down, Sterling. Or I’ll blow a hole through your little pet’s head.”

Deacon clawed at the man’s arm, his nails leaving behind bright streaks of crimson. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell there was a whole dictionary of curses locked behind his teeth.

Panic burned the back of my throat, but I swallowed it before it could show on my face.

“Do you take me for a fool? If I put my gun down and you’ll just shoot us both.” I grinned at him, letting my lip pull up into an expression that resembled a snarl and had helped earn my moniker. “You, however, are apparently a fool. You’ve forgotten who has the upper hand here.”

A knife came flying through the air and lodged into the hitman’s arm. Clutching his new wound, he was forced to drop Deacon, who immediately ran to my side.

I passed a nod of acknowledgement to the member of my own security who was standing in the door, thanking them for their assistance. My security hadn’t followed me into the office, but they were still present in the building. Caprice and her people had either forgotten that little fact, or then been arrogantenough to think their own security could go toe-to-toe with mine.

In the confusion, Caprice’s bodyguard grabbed her and helped her make an escape through the window. The fire escape hadn’t been meant to save people from gunfire, but it still served the same purpose. The pair would live for another day.

That was fine. I hadn’t truly wanted to kill Caprice anyway. I would avoid a war between our families if I could. My true target was still here, kneeling injured on the ground as his blood dripped onto the floor.

My security advanced on the injured hitman, ready to kill the man, but I ordered them to halt. Everyone in the room looked at me with confusion, but I merely turned to Deacon.

“You said you wanted to get revenge with your own hands. Well, now’s your chance.”

I nodded toward the gun on the floor that the hitman had dropped.

It took a moment for Deacon to realize what I meant, but when he did, an oddly blank look came over his face. He knelt and picked up the gun with trembling hands, turning it over and over to examine it.

His hands had a unique mix of softness and strength. He had the long, graceful fingers of an artist, but they were also calloused from plenty of hard work and outdoor activity. The gun was a particularly large caliber for a handgun and was unwieldy, but it didn’t look as out of place in his hands as I expected.

A moment of silence passed. No one spoke.

Then, without a hint of warning, Deacon aimed the gun and pulled the trigger.

The pop of the gunshot echoed out of the room and down the hall. The hitman stood there, stunned, as blood dripped from the new hole in his head.

Then the man collapsed, dead before he hit the floor.

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