“What is it you Americans like to say?” The assassin’s smile pulled his thin lips wide. “Glad you could join the party?”
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected the infamous hired gun to look like, but it wasn’t this nondescript, middle-aged white dude. The Russian had thinning blond hair, a totally forgettable face, and he wore a polo shirt tucked into a pair of jeans like a suburban dad at a soccer game.
“Drop the woman.” Hunter’s voice was so guttural he didn’t recognize it as his own. His senses sharpened until he could see every tick of the bastard’s steady pulse in the side of his neck. Until he could smell the faint hint of cigarette smoke wafting in the air.
“Not a chance.” Orpheus shook his head.
“I could put one between your eyes right now,” Hunter growled, seeing quite clearly the spot where his bullet would enter.
“Perhaps you could.” Orpheus shrugged and the move made Grace’s head bounce on the end of her neck. More blood had run down her pale face to stain the front of her borrowed T-shirt, and he had to remind himself head wounds always bled like a stuck pig. If he didn’t, desperation might take over. And a standoff called for one thing and one thing only: calm calculation. “But could you be sure your bullet would end me before I blew Agent Beacham’s brains out the side of her skull?” the Russian added.
The thought had the bottom dropping out of Hunter’s stomach. “Then we’re at an impasse here, aren’t we?”
“Not necessarily.” There was a cruel gleam in Orpheus’s eye that told him everything he needed to know about the man.
The shitstainenjoyedthis stuff.Likedtorturing and killing people.
“You could drop your weapon and let me kill you,” the assassin said casually. “I promise to make it quick. And then you will not have to witness Agent Beacham’s death. She cares for you,da? She was willing to sacrifice herself trying to warn you. And something tells me you feel the same about her.”
When Hunter didn’t agree or disagree, Orpheus shrugged again. “You don’t have to admit it. I can tell by the look on your face. Which means the last thing you want is to watch the moment the final drop of life leaves her body. Knowing the one you love met their end in such a brutal way is not a good or easy death. Just ask your friend, Dale.” He hitched his chin toward the doorway to the kitchen. Then he smirked. “Oh, right. You can’t.”
The thirst for violence that rushed through Hunter then was swift and icy cold. It raised the fine hairs all over his body.
A man with less training might’ve let himself be led by that feeling. Might’ve taken a chance and pulled his trigger. But years of experience told him the Russian was right. He couldn’t be sure killing the assassin wouldn’t result in the motherfucker having an involuntary muscle spasm that ended Grace too.
So he simply held his ground. And held his sight square between the bastard’s beady eyes.
“Drop your weapon,” Orpheus said again. Then he began to whistle and Hunter immediately recognized the tune. “And I promise I will kill you as softly as I can. One shot.” The assassin made a clicking sound with his tongue. “You won’t feel a thing.”
Hunter ground his jaw so hard, he was surprised his molars didn’t turn to dust. His mind worked through all the scenarios, all his options, and settled on the reality that none of them were good. None of them assured him with one-hundred percent certainty that Grace would come out the other side of this thing alive.
Just when he was about to open his mouth to stall or negotiate, he saw her eyelids flutter. Her lips pursed like she’d tasted something sour. Then her eyes popped open and her dark gaze was clear and…direct.
She was trying to communicate something to him, but he couldn’t determine what. Then, it hit him that she hadn’t moved. Hadn’t lifted her head. Hadn’t so much as suffered a hitch in her breathing.
She was playing possum. Making Orpheus think she was still unconscious. Andthatwas going to be his opening.
He dipped his chin ever-so-subtly. To the Russian, it probably looked like he was still considering his options and calculating his odds. To Grace, it was a signal he was ready for whatever she had planned.
“Let me make it easy for you.” Orpheus sneered. “Either you let me kill you quickly and easily. Or you try to be a hero and I kill you anyway. Only, I promise you it will not be quickoreasy. I would love for you to watch as I show Agent Beacham what true pain is. I would love for you to—”
That’s all he managed before Grace stood to her full height and threw back her head.Whack!She clocked the assassin square in the nose.
Hunter heard the crunch of cartilage a split second before he roared, “Down!”
She didn’t hesitate, letting all her weight drop against the Russian’s grip, catching him by surprise. She slipped through his grasping arms like a wet noodle slipping through a slotted spoon.
Boom!
The sound of Hunter’s Glock in the enclosed space was deafening. He prided himself on being a quick shot. Unfortunately, Orpheus was quicker. The assassin had already turned to dive through the sliding door and Hunter’s bullet missed the bastard’s head by a fraction of an inch, hitting the glass instead and creating a neat hole that immediately expanded into a spiderweb of cracks.
He fired again and watched his shot graze the assassin’s left flank.
Poom! Poom! Poom!
The Russian was quick to return fire, forcing Hunter to dive for cover as one round slammed into the wall above his shoulder. Another clipped the wooden frame on the doorway. And the final one sliced through the meaty part of his shoulder before he hit the carpet behind the sofa.
He felt the burn of the bullet, but that was it. Just that quick, stinging pain. And then…nothing.
