Page 54 of Brutal Vows
Reyna.
My heartbeat surges into overdrive. Moving fast but quietly, I stride over to the salon, gun in hand, and slow just outside the doorway.
When I glance in, my pounding heart skids to a dead stop.
Reyna stands in front of an unlit fireplace, eyes flashing with fury, chin lifted in defiance. A man stands across from her, about six feet away.
He’s pointing a semi-automatic handgun at her chest.
A rifle lies on the floor beside him.
I think it’s the one she was carrying. He must’ve surprised her somehow and pulled it from her grip.
I say loudly, “Oy. Dickface.”
He jerks his head to the right.
I squeeze the trigger and put a bullet in his temple. He collapses like a rag doll into a heap on the floor.
Then something kicks me in the shoulder from behind.
“What the…?”
I spin around to find another masked guy in black crouched on one knee in the corridor, arms outstretched, holding a Glock semi-auto in his grip. Before I can raise my weapon, a shot rings out.
Blood mists from his mask in a spray. He topples sideways, gun clattering against the marble, then lies still.
Breathless, Reyna runs up beside me. “It’s too bad you can’t count, Quinn. There were seven of them, not six.”
Too stunned to argue, I stare at her holding the rifle in her hands. “Did you just shoot a man to protect me?”
She looks at me, blinks, then winces. “Shit. Must’ve been a reflex.”
“Or maybe you were feeling gratitude for both times I saved your life in the last ten minutes.”
She scoffs. “Please. I didn’t need your help.” Then she gasps and her eyes grow wide.
“Don’t tell me. You just remembered you didn’t make me supper yet.”
“No, Quinn…” She reaches out and lightly touches my shoulder. “I think you’ve been shot.”
I look down at where she’s touching. A wisp of smoke rises from a small hole in the fabric of my jacket. The acrid smell of scorched silk hangs in the air.
Watching a ring of wetness grow larger around the hole, I sigh.
Fuck. This is my favorite suit.
TWELVE
REY
“Let me take a look,” I tell Quinn, reaching for his lapel.
He brushes me off impatiently. “It’s fine.”
“It’snotfine, idiot. You have a hole in you. You’re bleeding. I can help.”
“I don’t need a nurse. Especially one who’s likely to stab me in the neck when I’m not looking.”
