Page 184 of New Storm Rising
“Wolf!” Creed snarled behind me. “You damn traitor!”
“Depends.” Shrugging, the man called Wolf, who had a gun pointed straight at Creed, jerked a thumb towards my husband. “I worked for him long before I even met you, so I’d be damned either way.”
I knew it! I goddamn bloody knew it! Oh, hubby dear…you’re gonna get it.
Creed’s eyes narrowed. “I see.”
For a long, long moment, no one and nothing moved. We all stood there, Wolf’s revolver pointed at Creed, and Creed’s gun pointed at me. The man’s eyes, however, were directed straight at Mr Rikkard Ambrose who was still standing casually against the wall, his face cold. Unmoving. And, as everyone only realized now, in control of everything.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a single drop of sweat roll down the side of Creed’s face—until suddenly, he smiled.
Uh-oh…
The man’s posture straightened. I felt his grip on his revolver tighten as his stare at Mr Ambrose intensified.
“Wolf isn’t going to shoot.”
Mr Ambrose cocked his head. “No?”
“No. Because even if he does, I might have enough time to pull the trigger and ice this bitch.” A hand grabbed my neck from behind, squeezing hard. “Are you willing to risk that?”
A deadly chill descended over the courtyard. Dark eyes brimming with murderous intent, Mr Ambrose stared straight at Creed in a way that would make most men collapse from the mere force of his gaze. A long moment passed. And another. And…
“No,” Mr Ambrose admitted. “I am not.”
I felt a tug at my heart.
Damn you! Don’t show weakness now of all times! Even if it does give me bloody butterflies inside!
“Ha! I knew it!” Chuckling darkly, Creed gestured to his men. “Come on, boys! Grab that bastard Wolf! We’re going to get out of here, and then we’re going to have some fun torturing him and that bi—”
Mr Ambrose’s move was faster than I could blink. In a flash, he held another revolver in his hand, cocked and ready to go.
Bam!
I felt it. The hiss of the bullet as it blew past my face. The twitch of Creed’s body as the projectile tore through his shoulder.
“Son of a…!”
Roaring, Creed grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and raised his gun until it was right behind my head. I froze. An instant later, he pressed the trigger.
Click! Click!
Um…wait a minute. I wasn’t exactly an expert in projectile weapons, but was that what a gunshot was supposed to sound like?
Click, click, click!
Probably not.
Creed seemed to have come to the same conclusion. Eyes widened in shock, he stared down at the gun in his hand and my decidedly non-perforated head.
“What the—?”
“Creed,” an oh-so familiar, ice-cold voice cut him off mid-sentence. A voice that made my heart sing. “Did you really think it would be this easy?”
Slowly, Creed looked up from his empty gun—only to come face-to-fist with Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
Thud!
