Page 148 of New Storm Rising
“What?”
Mr Ambrose cocked his head. “You didn’t think a man such as I would get to where I am without acquiring a substantial number of enemies, did you?”
“And you didn’t think that might be worth mentioningbeforeI married you?”
“I calculated it would have reduced the success chances of my proposal significantly.”
“Why you…stop right there and let me kill you!”
Bam! Bam!
“I’m afraid you will have to get in line, Mrs Ambrose.”
With three more steps, he had arrived at the dining room door. Slamming it open, he gave the middle-aged brothel madam a curt nod.
“Ma’am. I hope you have a back door?”
“Certainly.” Rising perfectly calmly, as if there weren’t a bunch of people shooting up her place of business, the madam marched over to a door that, up until now, I’d taken to be a broom cupboard. Instead, it opened into a narrow corridor. “Let’s move, all righty?”
“Indeed.” Tightening his hold on me, Mr Ambrose rushed me towards the door. “Route?”
“Take a left, then a right, and go through the brown door straight ahead.”
We did as ordered, following the escape route. Soon, we reached the aforementioned brown door. Stepping in front of the both of us, Karim cautiously pushed it open.
“Quiet, now,” the bodyguard whispered, holding up one hand. “There is a stable full of horses two streets down. All we have to do is to move quietly and quickly through the shadows, and then we can—”
Bam!
Mud and stone sprayed up as a bullet slammed through the door and smashed into the ground two inches from his toes.
“Dhikara hai!” Karim growled, jumping back. “We’re surrounded!”
I cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t say. I would never have guessed.”
“Back! Back!”
“No, I was going to go forward.”
A stone-hard arm slid around my waist, dragging me back.
“Hey!” I protested. “What the heck do you think you’re doing?”
“Implementing contingencies,” Mr Ambrose answered, his grip tightening. “Just in case you were being serious.”
I opened my mouth—then shut it again.
Was this the right time to tell him I had been about to pull open the door and fire back at the sniper?
Probably not.
But then again…that idea wasn’t as stupid as it sounded. We were stuck. Hired guns were all around us, waiting to go for the kill. And I would rather rely on my trusty six-shooter than my ability to sneak past a sniper.
Explaining that to Mr Rikkard Ambrose, however, was a whole other matter. To judge by the fierce, icy light shining in his eyes as he dragged me back into the dining room, he wasnotabout to let me get the authentic wild west experience of a midnight shootout.
With a crash, the door to the secret corridor slammed shut behind us. A moment later, Mr Ambrose slid home the bolt and turned the key in the lock.
“What are we going to do?” I demanded, glancing from left to right, looking for any way out.
