The Accidental Assassin
Page 43
I looked in the mirror and took a deep breath. My face was pale and there were circles under my eyes. I had slept well the night before—being exhausted had a way of making sure you did that— but nightmares had made it difficult to truly rest. A tap on the wall next to the curtain made me scramble around and shove the sweater-wrapped gun behind my back.
“Someone’s in here.” My voice was too high.
“Everything okay in there?” Owen’s voice was quiet.
“Yeah. I’m just finishing.” Grabbing the shirt from the hook, I tucked my sweater under my arm and pushed the heavy material out of my way. “Didn’t fit.”
Walking over to the rack I replaced the shirt and turned to Owen. “Ready?”
“Are you?” He placed a hand on my cheek.
“Yeah.” Sure I was ready. Why wouldn’t I be ready to march into the house of the man that wanted to hold me hostage? Pfft. I shrugged and handed him my balled up sweater. “Here, put this in your bag, will you?”
He took the hidden gun from my hand and stuck it into his bag. “Let’s go.”
Placing a hand on the small of my back, he guided me out of the shop. “Do as I say. I don’t know what Marcus has gotten himself into, but I have a feeling it’s ugly.”
“Gee, you think?” I fidgeted with my shirt as we walked. It kept falling forward, the neckline revealing more cleavage than I wanted.
“Leave it.” Owen’s eyes dipped down to the top of my breasts.
“What?” My eyebrow raised in annoyance. Now wasn’t the time for him to be telling me how to dress. In fact, never would the perfect time for him to tell me how to dress.
“It’ll work to our advantage.” His eyes moved up to my face. “It will make you look vulnerable and distracting.”
“Vulnerable?” I sneered. “That’s the last thing I want to look like!”
“It’s always better to be underestimated, Ava.” He reached over and grabbed my arm, his fingers tightening enough to make me glare at him. “I’m sorry, but we have to make this look right.”
“What the hell are you doing?” I pulled on my arm but he didn’t let go.
“I’m taking you to my brother.” Without missing a step, he marched directly to the front door of the house he had pointed out earlier.
“Owen.” I pulled on my arm a little. “You’re hurting me.” Being restrained was starting to make me panic, despite my brain’s reassurances.
With a quick movement he threw his bag at the feet of the man standing guard on the steps. “I need to see Marcus.”
“Yeah, and I want to be King.” The man shrugged lazily, but I could feel his eyes sweeping my body. “So what?”
“Tell him his brother is here and that I want to make a trade.” Owen pushed me forward, but didn’t let go.
I looked up at the man gripping my arm. His eyes were hard and cold. I swallowed. I liked it much better when Owen was fighting a smile or looking at me with a slightly confused expression. This Owen was distant and rigid as if his stare would cut through metal.
The man spoke into a little piece of plastic attached to his shirt. We stood there, my heart beating so loudly I knew everyone could hear it. I glared at the man on the steps as he leered down at me.
“Come in.” The man opened the door and motioned for us to step inside. Owen pulled me along quickly and I sneered at him, continuing with my difficult hostage act. Inside, two men were waiting with guns drawn. Owen let go of me and held his arms out at his sides. One of the men stepped forward and patted him down, taking the weapons he had stashed in his pants and shirt. I had seen him hide all of them, but it still amazed me to see the pile that was growing on the table in the small foyer. His gaze was blank, as if there wasn’t a thought in his head.
“He’s clean.” The man stepped back and looked at the one holding the gun.
“Take the girl downstairs.” His gruff voice sent chills down my spine and I froze at the thought of what was downstairs.
“No.” Owen’s voice brokered no argument. “She’s my hostage. She stays with me until the trade is done. Or no trade, and I walk.”
“Boss said she gets put in the stables, you can barter by yourself.”
“The stables? Are you fucking serious?” The words burst out of my mouth before I could rethink them.
“Shut up, bitch.” The man with the gun looked at me. “You’ll do as you’re told.”
“She stays with me until I get what I want.” Owen stepped forward until the gun pressed into his sternum. “Or I kill you all and take what I want anyway.”
“Yeah right, mate.”
There was no hesitation in Owen’s movement when he grabbed the gun, breaking the man’s hold on it at the same time he delivered a painful, cracking kick to the man’s knee. The man crumpled to the floor, his face twisted in pain, and the sound of his neck snapping filled the foyer.
The other man took a step back, but it was too late. Owen moved so quickly there was nothing that could stop him. He slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, sending him sprawling.
Owen looked down at the man on the floor and pointed the gun at his head. “Did you think Marcus hired all of you to protect him because I would be easily intimidated?”
“Fuck you.” The man glared at Owen.
Owen’s finger tightened on the trigger and I was certain I was about to be covered in the man’s brain goo. He stopped just before looking toward the people making their way downstairs. Four men with machine guns stopped and stared at us, their faces set in angry lines. My heart dropped as they pointed their guns in our direction. For one beat of my heart I was certain we were about to be mowed down by a thousand bullets. But then a radio crackled, and a voice came over it, sounding steady and also bored.
“Someone’s in here.” My voice was too high.
“Everything okay in there?” Owen’s voice was quiet.
“Yeah. I’m just finishing.” Grabbing the shirt from the hook, I tucked my sweater under my arm and pushed the heavy material out of my way. “Didn’t fit.”
Walking over to the rack I replaced the shirt and turned to Owen. “Ready?”
“Are you?” He placed a hand on my cheek.
“Yeah.” Sure I was ready. Why wouldn’t I be ready to march into the house of the man that wanted to hold me hostage? Pfft. I shrugged and handed him my balled up sweater. “Here, put this in your bag, will you?”
He took the hidden gun from my hand and stuck it into his bag. “Let’s go.”
Placing a hand on the small of my back, he guided me out of the shop. “Do as I say. I don’t know what Marcus has gotten himself into, but I have a feeling it’s ugly.”
“Gee, you think?” I fidgeted with my shirt as we walked. It kept falling forward, the neckline revealing more cleavage than I wanted.
“Leave it.” Owen’s eyes dipped down to the top of my breasts.
“What?” My eyebrow raised in annoyance. Now wasn’t the time for him to be telling me how to dress. In fact, never would the perfect time for him to tell me how to dress.
“It’ll work to our advantage.” His eyes moved up to my face. “It will make you look vulnerable and distracting.”
“Vulnerable?” I sneered. “That’s the last thing I want to look like!”
“It’s always better to be underestimated, Ava.” He reached over and grabbed my arm, his fingers tightening enough to make me glare at him. “I’m sorry, but we have to make this look right.”
“What the hell are you doing?” I pulled on my arm but he didn’t let go.
“I’m taking you to my brother.” Without missing a step, he marched directly to the front door of the house he had pointed out earlier.
“Owen.” I pulled on my arm a little. “You’re hurting me.” Being restrained was starting to make me panic, despite my brain’s reassurances.
With a quick movement he threw his bag at the feet of the man standing guard on the steps. “I need to see Marcus.”
“Yeah, and I want to be King.” The man shrugged lazily, but I could feel his eyes sweeping my body. “So what?”
“Tell him his brother is here and that I want to make a trade.” Owen pushed me forward, but didn’t let go.
I looked up at the man gripping my arm. His eyes were hard and cold. I swallowed. I liked it much better when Owen was fighting a smile or looking at me with a slightly confused expression. This Owen was distant and rigid as if his stare would cut through metal.
The man spoke into a little piece of plastic attached to his shirt. We stood there, my heart beating so loudly I knew everyone could hear it. I glared at the man on the steps as he leered down at me.
“Come in.” The man opened the door and motioned for us to step inside. Owen pulled me along quickly and I sneered at him, continuing with my difficult hostage act. Inside, two men were waiting with guns drawn. Owen let go of me and held his arms out at his sides. One of the men stepped forward and patted him down, taking the weapons he had stashed in his pants and shirt. I had seen him hide all of them, but it still amazed me to see the pile that was growing on the table in the small foyer. His gaze was blank, as if there wasn’t a thought in his head.
“He’s clean.” The man stepped back and looked at the one holding the gun.
“Take the girl downstairs.” His gruff voice sent chills down my spine and I froze at the thought of what was downstairs.
“No.” Owen’s voice brokered no argument. “She’s my hostage. She stays with me until the trade is done. Or no trade, and I walk.”
“Boss said she gets put in the stables, you can barter by yourself.”
“The stables? Are you fucking serious?” The words burst out of my mouth before I could rethink them.
“Shut up, bitch.” The man with the gun looked at me. “You’ll do as you’re told.”
“She stays with me until I get what I want.” Owen stepped forward until the gun pressed into his sternum. “Or I kill you all and take what I want anyway.”
“Yeah right, mate.”
There was no hesitation in Owen’s movement when he grabbed the gun, breaking the man’s hold on it at the same time he delivered a painful, cracking kick to the man’s knee. The man crumpled to the floor, his face twisted in pain, and the sound of his neck snapping filled the foyer.
The other man took a step back, but it was too late. Owen moved so quickly there was nothing that could stop him. He slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, sending him sprawling.
Owen looked down at the man on the floor and pointed the gun at his head. “Did you think Marcus hired all of you to protect him because I would be easily intimidated?”
“Fuck you.” The man glared at Owen.
Owen’s finger tightened on the trigger and I was certain I was about to be covered in the man’s brain goo. He stopped just before looking toward the people making their way downstairs. Four men with machine guns stopped and stared at us, their faces set in angry lines. My heart dropped as they pointed their guns in our direction. For one beat of my heart I was certain we were about to be mowed down by a thousand bullets. But then a radio crackled, and a voice came over it, sounding steady and also bored.
