But that’s all she managed before Charles pulled his trigger.
She screwed her eyes shut, expecting another earsplitting bark of sound. But the only noise she heard was a telltale snick.
Doing a double take, she peeked around Angel’s shoulder in time to catch his lips twitching. It was the closest thing to a smile she’d ever seen on his face.
“Know what that sound is called?” he asked Charles, shoving the barrel of the semi-auto harder against Grafton’s head when Grafton tried to struggle. A bloody smear appeared on Grafton’s temple. It matched the droplets running down Angel’s face. “The dead-man’s click,” he continued. “The noise an empty weapon makes.”
Charles squeezed the trigger three more times. Three more times he ended up with a whole lot of nada. Growling his frustration, he thumbed the clip release on the side of his gun and pulled out the magazine.
“I emptied your mag when you went to take a piss on the plane,” Angel told him. His tone was as neutral as it always was, but damned if she didn’t detect the itty-bittiest dose of satisfaction. “You were stupid enough to leave your jacket and shoulder holster on the seat.”
Charles glanced at Gordy.
“Don’t blame him,” Angel rasped. “He was asleep. So was he.” He tipped his blood-speckled chin toward Lou’s dead body. “And besides, any man worth his salt would recognize the difference between the weight of a fully loaded weapon and an empty one, so it is no one’s fault but your own. Then again, we all make mistakes. Just ask your mother.”
Sonya stared at his perfect profile in slack-jawed fascination.
“Shoot him,” Grafton growled at Gordy. “Shoot him now!”
Like a venomous snake shifting its attention in preparation of a strike, Angel turned his dark, cutting gaze from Charles to Gordy. “Do you recognize the difference in the weight of a fully loaded weapon and an empty one? You went to the bathroom and left your jacket and shoulder holster behind too.”
Holy moly! Angel rocked some serious James Bond. If her heart wasn’t going ape crazy and there wasn’t a dead man lying at her feet, she might have thought she was dreaming. Or else watching a good action flick. Honestly, if a movie studio ever needed a super-stud spy guy complete with fathomless eyes and a mysterious aura, no doubt Central Casting would recommend Angel.
Gordy swallowed, his Adam’s apple bouncing under his neck beard. He looked at his weapon as if he might have X-ray vision capable of seeing inside his magazine.
“Go ahead and pull the trigger.” Angel’s tone was as cool and somber as dirt over a fresh grave. “It will give me an excuse to pull mine. The difference being I will hear a bang and you will hear a click.”
Gordy swallowed again. Unless Sonya’s eyes deceived her, his hand shook as he steadied his bead on Angel. Everyone in the room held their breath. Sonya couldn’t have blinked even if she’d wanted to. And she wanted to. Her eyes now felt like they were filled with fire ants.
Angel must’ve seen the muscles in Gordy’s forearm twitch a second sooner than she did. Before she could open her mouth to scream, Angel swung the Glock away from Grafton’s head, took aim, and—Boom!—drilled Gordy right between the eyes.
Gordy was dead by the time he squeezed his trigger, his muscles working off the last synapse sent before his brain was liquefied. Crash! His shot whizzed by Sonya’s head, the round embedding itself in the wall behind them.
Oh God. Angel hadn’t emptied Gordy’s Glock. He’d been bluffing!
“You sodding sonofabitch!” Grafton roared, clamping his mouth shut when Angel not-so-gently reapplied the barrel of the weapon to his temple. Grafton hissed like the gun was hot. Sonya suspected it was, but Angel showed no mercy.
“Words hurt,” Angel told him. “But not nearly as bad as lead flying into your brainpan at 375 meters per second.”
“What are you waiting for?” Grafton snarled. “Just do it. Bloody do it! Kill me!”
Angel snorted. “You are poison. The plague. And I might have to put a bullet into that sick, twisted heart of yours someday. Unfortunately, someday isn’t today.”
Grafton went statue still. “What? Why would you let me live?”
“Because death is too good for you.”
“Y-you plan to turn me over to the authorities.” It was the first time Sonya had heard drop-dead fear in Grafton’s tone.
“Yes,” Angel responded. One word, spoken with unwavering clarity.
She wanted to shoot a victorious fist in the air. She wanted to scream her joy. She hadn’t been wrong about him after all! He was one of the good guys and—
That’s as far as she got because a knock sounded at the front door. All four of them turned to see a man in a sweater vest cupping his hands around his eyes and pressing this face to the window, trying to see inside.
Charles used Angel’s distraction to lunge for the loaded weapon Gordy had dropped after Angel plugged him. Grafton, seeing Charles’ intention, lifted his arm and elbowed Angel under his chin. The crack of Angel’s teeth crashing together was loud enough to make Sonya’s jaw ache.
What happened next was strange. She felt as though she was watching a film with frames missing. Everything was jerky and disjointed.
