Page 95 of Hidden Resolution
“He’s not here,” Mason deadpanned, buying him time and hoping she believed the bluff. “That pussy’s at home, nursing a broken nose.”
“Is that right?” she asked with diamond-hard eyes. Three beats passed. Her mouth curled the slightest bit as she whipped her gun around and shot him in the thigh.
“Jesusfuckingchrist!”
The pain was liquid fire, dropping him where he stood. Applying pressure to his wound, he prayed to whatever god would listen that she hadn’t struck an artery.
Zack managed a few steps before she aimed at him.
“I told you not to move,” she snarled.
Although action heroes could take a bullet with a grunt and a quip, it was a helluva lot more painful in real life. Blood seeped through Mason’s fingers, and his mind grew fuzzy.
Shonda had to have heard the shot and called the police, right?
“Christie, call this off. Please. I’m begging you. Surely the neighbors heard the gunshot. The police still routinely patrol this block looking for you. They’ll be here any minute,” Zack cajoled.
Behind Christie and Judith, Dane shifted into position, posed with a shovel high above his head, and prepared to strike.
“Christie, for fuck’s sake! Light the damned match already. I need to sleep,” Erica growled.
Instantaneous fury flared on Christie’s visage, driving her forward.
Dane struck.
The shovel connected with her wrist, sending the gun skittering across the floor toward Zack.
And right as Judith aimed at Dane, Shonda stepped into the view, squeezing off two rounds.
Judith fell, and Mason scrambled for her discarded weapon.
With only a single-minded concern for Jacob, Zack jerked him out of harm’s way and urged him toward the back door. He spun back for Erica, but Christie beat him.
Standing over her, positioned with her thumb to flip open her lighter, she sneered.
“No!” Zack scrambled like hell for purchase on the slick, gas-drenched floor, slipping and sliding his way back to them.
And it was now or never. Mason squeezed off a round, echoing Shonda’s next shot.
Stunned disbelief crossed Christie’s face as she looked down at the hole in her chest, and a whoosh of air extinguished the lighter’s flame as she crumpled to the ground.
With a groan, Erica eased into a sitting position, and the second she was free of the chair, she shuffled her way to Christie. There was no hesitation in her action as she promptly kicked her in the ribs.
“I hope you’re dead, you fucking piece of shit!” Whack.
“Rot in hell!” Whack.
Erica got off two additional well-placed kicks before Zack pulled her to him.
“I think my ribs are broken,” she said between shallow pants. “I forgot for a minute.”
In the distance, sirens wailed, coming ever closer. They couldn’t arrive too soon!
Woozy from loss of blood and action, Mason closed his eyes, snapping them open as he sensed movement beside him.
Judith inched closer to Christie’s discarded gun.
“Don’t you even think about it,” Shonda snarled. With the weapon clasped in her hands, she was a goddamned Viking princess—tall, stance wide, blonde hair escaping her braid. Her fierce expression assured them she’d willingly kill without remorse.
