Page 83 of Fatal Vision
One step and then another and he was standing directly over her.
She punched at his legs, tried to get her good leg around to kick him. He reached down, his eyes, dark in the shadows, boring into hers. A gloved hand slapped her face. Her head snapped to the side, a fresh wave of pain exploding in her cheek.
She tasted blood. Turning to look at the man again, she spit at him. “Who are you?”
The gun pointed at her. He bent down, grabbed a chunk of her hair and brought the muzzle to her forehead. Using the gun, he pressed her head down to the floor.
She was going to die.
They were all going to.
Do something!
No way in hell was she going to lie there and let him shoot her.
The blare of the security system’s alarm stopped, but the echo continued in her ears. The muzzle of the gun bit into her skin and she tried to control her gasping breath.
“What do you want?” she yelled as she covertly felt around with both hands. A piece of glass, another splintered board, anything to hit him.
She couldn’t see his face behind the mask, but she saw the knitted material move as if he were smiling.
Those eyes. Something so familiar about them outlined by the mask.
Releasing her braid, he patted her face as if this wasn’t something he really wanted to do.
But he was going to. She could see the determination in his hard gaze.
He cocked the gun, studying her reaction.
Really? He got off on watching his victims die?
It’s him.
The one she’d been hunting.
But a sniper liked distance from his prey. This—the man staring her in the eyes right now—was personal.
Revenge.
Rage like she’d never felt before ripped through her. A guttural yell left her throat and her body moved of its own accord, her bad leg kicking the man in the thigh.
At the same moment, she heard a deep, booming voice from across the room. “Get the fuck away from my wife!”
Colton!
Her kick sent the man backward, but he raised his gun.
Shelby reached for his ankle just as he fired at Colton, sending the bullet into the ceiling. The killer lost his balance and staggered sideways in the debris.
Pushing through the pain, fear ripping through her, Shelby scrambled to find another weapon. Her service revolver was in the safe upstairs. Her backup weapon in the kitchen.
Connor.He’d been armed. She needed to get to him, find his gun.
Sabrina’s chest was a mess of blood. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling, blank.
Oh, shit, don’t die on me.
Colton would have to handle Ski Mask on his own.
