Page 202 of This Bitter Sweet Temptation
Cleo hits the floor first. I’m grateful she doesn’t hesitate.
A panicked Talbot moves, too, plastering himself against the wall as he sinks down on his knees, muttering, “Oh God, oh God,oh God!”
The first bullet shatters the window and fills the room with dust. I wrap my hand around the radio and roll, coming up unharmed.
Guchkov drops his hands from his face, revealing a broken nose and an ugly, bloodied scrape around one eye. More pain for his battle-damaged face.
He cranes his neck and snarls, baring his teeth.
Clee must’ve gotten in a good hit. His vision seems impaired. I notice it in the way he moves his head, trying to focus, partly blinded.
That’s all I need.
I hit him first and we go down together before he can push off the ground.
Blinded or not, he’s still just as deadly. He elbows me in the ribs, spits blood in my face, but I add a few more scars to his ugly mug, skinning my knuckles as my fist crashes into his jaw.
He grunts and kicks my leg, but I fight through the pain.
He grabs his gun, tearing it from his belt and bringing it up to me, aiming at my throat.
“Holden!” Cleo’s scream wrecks me.
Snarling, I grab his thumb and wrench it back until I hear the vicioussnap!
The gun falls and hits the floor.
When it lands, I half expect it to go off, but it doesn’t, skittering safely away.
Just man to man now, and I like my odds.
Especially when Clee shakes herself out of her trance, diving for the gun, wrapping her small fingers around it.
Good girl.
I can barely spare her a glance as I force the Russian down and slam my good knee against Guchkov’s throat.
“Give me the gun, sweetheart,” I whisper, holding up my hand.
Her trembling fingers brush mine as she passes it over.
After this, I owe her.
Infinitely more than the heartbreak I’ve served up on a silver platter.
I press the gun against Guchkov’s head and he stills. His dark, hazy eyes flick around the room desperately.
Asshole’s probably wondering how his scheme went so wrong. He must’ve planned this so carefully and had total confidence in the execution.
There’s a loud, rasping sound in the corner. Fairfax, I realize, turtling under the desk. I can’t tell if he’s been shot.
That’s for later.
“Don’t. Don’t move. Don’t think I won’t smear your brains on the floor,” I growl in his ear. Adrenaline throttles my nerves, but I’m still in full control.
I might need to ice that knee later, but right now, I barely feel it.
“Wait! He has hostages. Not here.” Cleo’s words trip over themselves as she says them. “I don’t know where. Children.”
