Page 29 of Fatal Love
Chapter Eight
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SHE WAS GOINGto die.
Even after she’d caused the distraction and defused the bomb, she was still going to die.
Worse, so was everyone else.
Connor, Trace, Maria, Cal, and Beatrice. The baby.
They’re all going to die because of me.
She’d heard the chatter on her comm, thought that Ebba had run off after Hunter had taken out her men.
“Surprise,” she said with false cheer to the group all staring at her and the woman holding her hostage. “I ran into a problem.”
“You bitch!” Beatrice yelled from her spot on the floor, where she was huffing and straining, andoh, my.
She was having the baby.
Like, rightnow.
Sabrina hoped B was calling Ebba the bitch and not her, but that was up in the air at this point.
Can’t blame her for being mad at me.
Connor, his face totally emotionless, held Beatrice’s hands. “What do you want?” he said to Ebba.
“Is that not obvious?” the woman said.
The barrel of the gun was cold against Sabrina’s very hot temple. Ebba’s body was hard and unforgiving against Sabrina’s back.
“You’re not getting the baby or Beatrice,” Trace said. His face was as emotionless as Connor’s. So was his voice. In fact, both men sounded completely cool and competent.
Sabrina wished she felt the same. Her knees were quaking, her stomach doing somersaults. “My father is a very rich man,” she said softly to Ebba. “Take me and leave the rest of them alone. You can get a very large ransom for me.”
The woman scoffed. “I have all the money I want. This has nothing to do with money. I want blood.”
Connor peeled his hands away from Beatrice and he rose slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Ebba.
Sabrina tried to catch his attention. To tell him, at least with her eyes, that she was sorry.
Why wouldn’t he look at her?
Then she saw his gun come up. It was pointed right at her.
No, not me. Ebba.
“The only blood that’s going to be spilled in the next minute is yours,” he said to the woman.
Sabrina’s already parched mouth went desert dry. Connor’s hand was steady, his stance solid, but the hall was barely lit and Ebba was standing partially behind Sabrina, using her as a shield.
Cal groaned from the floor, as next to him, Beatrice huffed and swore. Maria lay unconscious, blending into the shadows.
Trace sidled up next to Connor, shoulder to shoulder, blocking Beatrice and the others from Ebba. He, too, sported a handgun with the ugly black opening of the barrel pointed at Sabrina and Ebba. “Drop the weapon.”
