Page 21 of Dirty Gambit

Her warning had zero effect on him. He closed another foot.

“I mean it!” Her snarl hissed out through clenched teeth. It wavered, but her aim didn’t. “Don’t make me shoot you in front of her.”

“But would you?” His gaze was slitted with challenge and doubt. “Do you have it in you, Lena?”

The back of her knee caught the bench. She staggered but kept upright. It would have been the perfect time for him to react, to lunge and wrench the weapon from her grip. It was what she would have done. But he didn’t, apparently too confident in his assumption.

“I will,” she warned him, hoping he could hear the chill creeping through the warning. “You mean nothing to me.”

He made a low, throaty hum that was something between contemplation and ambiguity, but it didn’t stop him from pressing forward.

Lena did the only thing she could think of — she dropped her aim and fired.

For a split second, time itself seemed to come to a standstill. The crack of gunfire reverberated through the trees, tearing a hole into sound and space. The ground inches from Jaxon’s feet erupted, scattering bits of dirt and sand in all directions. It silenced the world in that moment before it all came roaring back in a cacophony of noise.

Jessie toppled over in terror and burst into tears when she hit the ground on her back. Her cries followed the residual ring left behind by the gunfire. It swallowed the yelp of surprise from Jaxon as the horror of being shot at finally struck home.

“You shot me!”

His disbelief would have been comical, except all she felt was grim annoyance.

“I shotatyou,” she said, lowering the smoking gun and eyeing a dark stain on the ground.

Part of her was relieved she hadn’t actually shot him. It had been a fifty-fifty risk she’d been hoping to avoid. But given how long it had been since she’d fired a gun, she was almost impressed with her marksmanship. She just hoped he wouldn’t notice her disbelief or the tremor in her grip.

“You tried to shoot me!” he cried again.

“I told you to stop.”

She moved away from him to where Jessie sat crying in the dirt.

He was still standing there when she finished strapping the struggling baby back in her seat. His expression hadn’t lost its bewilderment, nor did he seem likely to get over it any time soon. She supposed she would have been upset as well if someone had shot at her, but it kept coming back to her warning him not to get brave. It was clearly his fault.

Assured by that conclusion, she moved to the trunk and popped it open. She shoved around the bags until she found the first aid kit tucked in the back. As a secondary thought, she located a sleeve of baby cookies from Jessie’s bag and wiggled two out.

“Let’s go.” She motioned him over, not at all surprised when he remained frozen with the same look of outrage plastered to his face. “You’re wasting time.”

It took several seconds of opening and closing his mouth and making wide, angry arm gestures before the words lodged in his throat finally popped free.

“You are a crazy, dangerous … infuriating, insufferable … brat!”

Lena blinked, taken aback. Of all the words she’d expected him to finish on, brat had not been anywhere close.

“Did you just call me a brat?”

“And crazy!” he roared, arms flinging open wide. “Out of your fucking head crazy. And did I mention dangerous?”

“And infuriating and insufferable,” she finished casually. “But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re running behind.”

He simply stared at her, his expression confounded and aghast.

“I’m serious,” she snapped. “Let’s go!”

She was about to threaten him with another bullet when he moved, carefully this time, with a wary tread of a cagey cat. She hid her amusement and frustrations by gesturing to the backseat, next to a fussing Jessie.

“Sit.”

His eyes narrowed, the offense in them palpable, but he lowered himself into the seat.

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