Page 8 of Pick Yourself Up
A shout from the other side of the lobby had Brown whirling away from her and lifting his foot off her arm.
“Hands up, asshole. You’re finished.”
Gray wanted to pepper the asshole with bullets, but this wasn’t war. He wasn’t in the army any longer. He had the situation under control and shooting the jerk would have been overkill—hah.
Instead, he motioned with his gun for the man to put his hands up and back away from the woman.
When he’d stepped far enough that he couldn’t kick her, Gray motioned with his gun. “Drop the weapon.”
The man’s eyes searched the lobby, probably looking for his friends. “There’s no backup. They’re trussed up like turkeys.”
Gray had knocked the boss out with a sharp blow to the head and then quietly convinced the other of the very real possibility that Gray would shoot to kill rather than wound.
As part of his job, he always carried zip ties. The ties wouldn’t hold forever, but they should be long enough for help to arrive. He’d called Norm and the cops from the stairwell.
Sure enough, someone banged on the door. Gray didn’t have a badge and had to let them know he was one of the good guys. He pointed at his prisoner. “Unlock them.”
“Don’t know how.”
“You just locked them, dumbass. Unlock them.”
In the face of Gray’s gun and the guns of the police aimed through the door, the man followed instructions.
Gray stayed where he was, gun trained on the asshole and protecting the woman on the floor.
As soon as the cops breached the doors, he pointed his gun at the ceiling. “Santoro. I work for Cassidy Protection, and I called it in.”
He recognized the police sergeant who entered next, and his identity was confirmed. He holstered his weapon. “We need an ambulance. This woman’s been beaten and shot.”
A few of the cops swore, and Gray dropped to the ground beside the woman. Her eyes locked on him, but he wasn’t sure if she was completely clear. “Hi there. I’m Santoro. You’re safe now.”
She blinked and smiled. “Hi, Dark Eyes.”
Dark eyes? He grinned. “You’ve got some spectacular dark eyes of your own. Can you tell me your name?”
“Amber. Amber Malssum. Thanks for saving me.”
Malssum. That wasn’t a common name, and probably why she looked familiar. She shared the same facial structure as the three Malssum brothers he’d worked with on different missions while he’d been in the army. Burke, Lawson, and Knox. Good men who didn’t back down from anything.
None of them were as pretty as Amber, but he’d bet she was one of their sisters, or maybe a cousin.
He didn’t figure Amber was up for a conversation about how she was related to the men yet, so he didn’t mention it.
Instead, he eased up her pant leg to get a look at the gunshot wound she had on her calf. The bullet hadn’t gone through, but it hadn’t hit an artery either. She’d heal. “You’re very brave, Amber.”
That earned him an eye roll. “I wish.”
He chuckled as he wondered how badly her face was going to swell. “You are. You single-handedly kept these assholes contained long enough for help to get here. I’m betting you did something to the computer to stop them getting whatever information they were after.”
Her lips lifted slightly. “It worked.”
He grinned. “Sure did. Were they after information on Brandon Wells?”
She nodded, then her eyes widened. “I shouldn’t have told you that. I didn’t tell them anything.”
He kept one hand on her wound to slow the bleeding and brushed her hair off her face with the other. “It’s okay. I’m one of the good guys. You were gutsy and brave today, Amber.”
She smiled softly and closed her eyes. “The lobby is dancing.”
