Page 97 of Tabitha

Fear curdles my blood.

The old fool is going to get himself killed.

I shouldn’t care.

I have every right to hate the man and want to see him dead, but not this way.

Not because of me.

Pierce grabs my leg under the counter and squeezes my knee in warning, and I nearly jump out of my skin. It’s only then that I notice Gage lurking at the top of the stairs. Before I have time to react, the world seems to move in slow motion, everyone jolting into motion at once.

Even as Banks turns, my father lunges for him. Gage leaps down the steps three at the time, and I don’t hesitate to lift my gun and shoot the two goons before their guns have a chance to leave their holsters. I drop the useless gun to the floor, turn, and grab Pierce’s shoulders when he stands, the bomb vest coming to a stop just inches from my face.

I hear a commotion behind me, shouting, but I have no time to focus on anything but the countdown—less than three minutes. I gently trace the wires, following the detonation cord. My fingers shake, sweat trickling down the small of my back, and I swear I can actually hear the clock ticking down in the back of my mind.

I don’t have time to search my bags for my equipment to interrupt the bomb’s frequency. I have to do this the hard way. Whoever built this bomb was a genius, a triple redundancy making defusing it tricky. I follow the leads, then chew on my lip as I hesitate.

I can’t get this wrong.

Pierce cups my hands, and my attention jerks to his face. Instead of fear or worry, he just smiles down at me, his eyes full of love. He squeezes my hands, then kisses the tip of my nose. “You got this, baby girl. Trust yourself. I do.”

With my eyes latched on his, I pull the two wires simultaneously.

Then I blink when nothing happens.

It’s almost anticlimactic.

Pierce flashes me a bright smile, then pulls away and yanks the vest over his head, carefully setting it on the island countertop. Just as he reaches for me, a gunshot shatters the silence. I whirl just in time to see my father stagger back, clutching at his chest.

Heart in my throat, I leap forward, barely catching him before he collapses. He peers up at me, his gray eyes so much like mine that it’s like looking in a mirror.

Regret darkens his eyes, and I press my hands against his wound, desperate to stop the flow of blood, but it seems to be everywhere. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop the ever increasing pool spreading beneath him.

He reaches out with bloody fingers, brushing his fingers along my cheek. “You are beautiful beyond my wildest dreams. My daughter. I’m so proud of you.”

His breath rattles in his chest, a shudder going through him, and I press down with all my weight. I’m so busy trying to stop the blood that it takes me a second to notice he’s fallen still beneath me.

I slowly drag my gaze up, dreading what I might find…freezing when I meet his unfocused gaze.

He’s gone.

I blindly grab the gun from his nerveless fingers, then turn and watch dully as the guys struggle to subdue Banks. The man fights like he’s possessed. Without hesitation, I lift the gun and fire.

The blast echoes into the room like a cannon. A small wound appears at the base of his throat, right between where the collarbones meet in the jugular notch. I watch with disinterest as his eyes widen and he grabs his throat. Blood bubbles up between his fingers, then he drops to the floor, dead before he hits the ground.

I turn back toward my father, gazing down at him, my heart numb to the world around me. It’s not until Bast cups my face, forcing my head up, that I become aware of my surroundings, the outside world returning in a rush of sounds.

“Baby girl, we need your help to defuse the bomb.” Pierce is holding the small device out to me, and I blink away the haze that has descended over me.

Bast looks a little worse for wear, while River is covered in blood, though most of it doesn’t appear to be his own. Pierce and Gage look ruffled, nasty bruises dotting their faces. While Gage has a broken nose, Pierce has a nasty split lip, but they’re otherwise okay.

Alive.

And they’re all looking at me with worry clouding their eyes.

I grab the device, look at it blankly for a second, then shake my head to clear the fuzz away and touch the screen. The countdown taunts me before my brain finally engages.

One minute and ten seconds remaining.

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