Time seems to slow when I step around the corner, my pistol pointed at the man closest to me. He doesn’t see it coming, and the bullet pierces him in the back, exiting through his chest. His cry thunders through the air as he falls, but I don’t spend another moment on him. I release a second bullet aimed at the person twenty feet from him.
I aim for his chest. The man’s head swivels at the sound of his comrade's shout. The bullet misses, piercing his shoulder instead. Dropping the gun, he shouts for the remaining shooter to take me out.
Instantly stepping behind the side of the house, I calculate that I have approximately two hundred feet where I’m completely exposed. I have to be faster than the other gunman, or I’m dead.
I take off running, aiming for the door to Owen’s bedroom that I left open.
Noah shouts in frustration.
They took the bait.
I will my legs to move faster as I close the distance. I only have seconds before I’m exposed.
As the gunshot sounds, I grab the doorframe, pulling myself into Owen’s bedroom and instantly drop to the ground. A bullet grazes the wood frame on the outside of the door, splintering it.
I kick the door closed with my foot, yanking the curtains closed so the shooter has no clear line of sight.
It works, but not well enough. A bullet passes through the glass, shattering it, and I duck as the pieces rain across the room. One catches me on the cheek. Blood drips down my face and neck.
Ignoring it, I will myself to move. I crawl through the bedroom door, kicking it shut behind me. Moving down the hall toward the kitchen and living room, I shout, “Parker!”
“I’m still here!” he answers back.
My relief is short-lived. I hear my assailant push open the broken French doors in the bedroom behind me.
“You need to get to Noah!” I yell as my brain scans the room for the best place to hide.
Another gunshot sounds outside, and I desperately hope it’s not Noah at the other end of it.
Parker appears from behind the couch, clutching the folder like his life depends on it. His eyes are wide, and he’s shaking.
“Get to the car, Parker. Tell Noah to take the papers somewhere secure. Now!”
Parker looks like he might not listen to me, but when the door to Owen’s bedroom opens, he beelines for the exit, slipping slightly as he grabs the handle and pulls himself through.
I throw myself behind the kitchen island, hoping the shooter will come into my line of sight so I can take him down. That’s the best-case scenario, though I know he’s probably smarter than that.
It’s an eternity waiting for the footsteps to draw closer. My heart hammers in my chest, the familiar sensation of adrenaline pumping through my veins. My body becomes completely still, my vision laser-focused. My arms hold the gun in front of me, not a tremble in them.
The footsteps stop short of the opening to the kitchen.
“It’s over, Miss Riley. Your evidence is in our hands, and your friends are caught.”
I roll my eyes at the clear lie. The obvious intention is to frighten me into submission.
Instead of answering, I move as silently as I can across the wood floor.
“I know exactly where you are, Miss Riley. There’s no escaping this.”
I back up against the wall. I know he’s in the hallway directly on the other side. I’m banking on the fact that he’ll think I’m still behind the island, trying to get the best angle to take him out.
I wait for him to make his move, knowing it’s only a matter of seconds.
As I predicted, he steps slightly past the kitchen wall, looking directly where I just was. Another careful step, and I press the trigger. The bullet goes straight through his thigh, and he screams, falling with a loud thud against the wood floor. The gun he is holding bounces out of his hand.
He reaches for it, but I get there first, scooping it up and aiming both weapons directly at his head. His eyes go wide as he stares up at me.
I shake my head. “You want to know why I’m so good at my job?”
