Page 132 of The Enemy Protector
He doesn't move. He's deciding whether I'll use it.
I will use it. I think to last night. Sergei warning me I would get my hands dirty. I can’t hold back.
"I won't tell you again," I say.
He makes a move. I don’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
The sound in the enclosed hallway is enormous. He goes down. I know he’s dead. My shot slammed into his chest. If he’s not dead, he will be within minutes.
The front door crashes open approximately four seconds after the shot.
Two of the guards from the door. Then a third from the back. They see me and then the man on the floor. One from the front drops to check the man.
"Call Sergei," I say with a calm I don’t know how I manage.
The man from the back door is on the phone. The other man, he’s new. I don’t recognize him.
There’s about a minute of calm before chaos ensues. Guard one comes close. “You’re bleeding.”
“I know.”
I’m a little pissed at them. I really want to know how it was possible I was attacked.
But I taste the blood and it’s making me nauseous. I keep the gun in my hand and walk to the powder room to stop the nosebleed.
Flashbacks to that night pop in and out of my head. I don’t look at myself in the mirror. I don’t want to see the bruise I already feel forming. I grab tissue and wipe my nose before rinsing my mouth out.
I walk out of the powder room with tissue held to my nose.
I'm sitting on the stairs in the foyer with the gun in my hand. I’m not putting it down. I might just have it surgically attached.
The front door opens, and Sergei walks in like an avenging angel. Kirill is behind him.
He stops when he sees me. His eyes take it all in.
“Where?”
“Back alcove.”
He’s on the move. I stand, feel a wave of dizziness and then follow him.
“I already killed him,” I call out.
I can’t hide the pride and that’s an unwanted feeling.
We make it into the alcove where the three guards are standing over the body on the floor. A massive, ugly pool of blood covers the pristine floor.
I smell burning and suddenly remember the pasta. I rush to the kitchen to shut off the burner and pout when I see the water has evaporated and the noodles are baked into the pan.
And this is why I don’t cook.
I hear a gunshot. I scream and spin around, sprinting to the alcove.
The new guard is on top of the dead man, the back of his head missing.
Sergei lowers his gun.
"The next man who fails to keep my wife safe will not die so quickly," Sergei says.
