Page 52 of France Face-Off
“Never!” Natalya rasped.
One more slam, and the gun crashed to the floor. Alex kicked it, sending it sliding under a massive pipe.
Natalya shoved Alex hard, sending her flying backward toward Dane.
He caught her. In so doing, he missed the chance to fire at Natalya.
The woman took off, running straight for the massive pipe. As she neared it, she threw herself on the ground, like a baserunner sliding into home and disappeared beneath the metal cylinder.
“She can’t get away.” Alex pushed free of Dane and ran after the woman who’d had her parents murdered. Like Natalya, she slid under the pipe. When she emerged on the other side, she found Natalya searching the shadows for the gun.
Alex spotted it a couple of yards to Natalya’s left. She dove for the gun at the same time as Natalya. Natalya reached it first and grabbed it.
As she straightened, Alex plowed into her, grasped her wrist and shoved her backward into another of the massive pipes. The woman was strong and desperate. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Alex had anger on her side and months of self-defense training. She held onto Natalya’s wrist. This time, she wouldn’t let the bitch get away.
Chapter 13
Larger than the two women, Striker couldn’t risk sliding beneath the pipe and getting stuck. He ran to a nearby ladder that would take him up and over the pipe to the other side.
Griff ran up behind him. “Go. I’ve got your back.”
Striker mounted the ladder, pulled himself up to the top of the pipe and peered over the other side.
The two women struggled for dominance over the gun and appeared to be equally determined and strong enough to emerge as the winner.
Striker couldn’t let Natalya get the upper hand. He’d come to have feelings for Alex, the spitfire black-haired beauty. She’d made him feel more in the last twenty-four hours than he had in a long time. Her dogged pursuit of her parents’ murderers had led her to him. He had to believe she’d been sent to him for a reason. She’d given him hope and the reason he’d been spared when his teammates hadn’t survived.
Striker slung his leg over the top of the ladder and hurried down the other side, his heart pounding in his chest.
Griff was right behind him, clambering down the metal ladder.
Alex and Natalya fought for control of the gun. Suddenly, they spun around, the gun pointing outward toward Striker and Griff.
Natalya fired a round. The bullet went wide.
Was the woman insane? If a bullet penetrated one of the pipes, there was no telling what might happen.
Striker skipped the last few rungs and dropped to the ground.
“I’m. So. Over. This,” Alex said as if gritting out words between clenched teeth. She grabbed Natalya’s arms and rolled backward, planted her feet in Natalya’s gut and flipped her into the air.
The other woman landed hard on her back, and the gun dropped from her hand.
Alex leaped to her feet and rushed toward Natalya.
Before Alex reached her, Natalya grasped the gun and pointed it at Alex.
Striker dove for Alex, knocking her out of range of Natalya’s aim.
Natalya fired.
A sharp stinging pain pierced Striker’s midsection. The bullet meant for Alex found a mark in him. He hit the ground, rolled over and came back up on his feet in a crouch.
Another shot rang out. Natalya’s eyes rounded, and her mouth formed an O. The gun fell from her fingers, and she looked down at her chest, where blood spread across her royal purple dress. She looked across at Alex and Striker and cried, “Noooo.”
Natalya fell backward and lay still.
