Page 11 of Faking it with the Billionaire
FOUR
EMERSON
The gunin the assailant’s hand glistens under the harsh fluorescent overhead lights. Adrenaline surges through my veins. My heart pounds in my chest, and I act on instinct.
I’m trained for this type of scenario, and while I haven’t had to endure it aside from practice at Quantico, physically, I’m here now, faced with the grave situation at hand.
I’m the only one capable of calming the man down and keeping him from pulling the trigger.
“You don’t want to do this,” I say, my gaze locked on the perpetrator as he keeps one arm secure around Kyler and the other with the barrel of the gun poised at his forehead.
Having my weapon right now would be helpful, but I intentionally left it behind, locked in the safe at Kyler’s home, because I couldn’t bring a gun onto school property, certainly not before meeting with the headmaster and getting the appropriate approval. And seeing as how Kyler neglected to secure that authorization and Eagle Tactical couldn’t have done so without Kyler’s express permission, I’m currently screwed.
I don’t even have a Taser on me.
Just my wits and charm. Plus, my training and instincts.
“I don’t see another choice,” the man growls at me and glances behind him briefly as he keeps Kyler as a hostage, walking him backward.
I’m not familiar with the arena. There’s another door, but where does it lead? To the shower? The ice arena?
The armed man is distracted. Just enough that I can make my move, and I lunge at him, yanking the gun upwards into the air while wrestling him down to the floor, tackling him and forcing the assailant onto his stomach, yanking his arms behind his back. I manage to kick the gun away from him.
“Oww!” he scowls.
“Grab me some zip ties,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at Kyler.
He’s got a huge grin on his face as he folds his arms across his chest, watching me.
“Help me, would you?” I shout at him.
“For fuck’s sake, man, let me go,” the assailant whines and tries to break free from my grip. “Someone tell her!”
“Tell me what?”
Several men in jerseys slowly emerge from around the corner, their cell phones capturing the whole exchange, and I realize this was all an elaborate setup.
“You can let Jasper go,” Kyler says. He takes a few steps, bending down and grabbing the gun from the ground. “He’s my brother. And this isn’t a real Glock.”
Fuck me.
“You’re an asshole.” I should probably watch my words, considering he’s my boss, but I don’t care. “I could have shot your brother.”
He glances me over thoroughly. “You don’t have your gun on you.” It’s not a question, it’s as though he made sure of it, and I’m a bit flustered by the accusation, even if it’s not intended as one.
“I couldn’t bring my gun onto school property.”
“Precisely,” he says with a smirk.
“You planned all of it,” I say, and I have half a mind to pummel his ass to the ground and embarrass him in front of his buddies. “You don’t think I can protect your daughter.” I take a step back, the air around me hot and suffocating. Maybe it’s also a bit of the testosterone permeating my nostrils. The room is filled with men twice my size.
Meanwhile, Kyler Greyson is composed. Calm. Collected.
I’m a mess, thanks to him.
“I needed to see what you’re capable of and how you would react. You surprised me,” Kyler says. And that smirk is back, the one that makes me want to wipe the grin off his face. Like he proved his point, and I didn’t just make an ass out of myself in front of him or his teammates.
“You’re still an asshole,” I say and storm out of the locker room.
