My heart rockets to quadruple speed. “Inside? But… how? The alarms?—”
“I don’t know,” he whispers. “None of the alarms on the exterior doors or windows were disturbed. But I always set the living room cameras to detect motion at night. Just in case. And—” He glances at his phone, lying face-up on the bed. “There are three men. They just set off the sensor.”
“Oh, God.” Fear courses through me.
I thought it was over. I thought we were safe.
“I need to go out there.” Nico reaches into his nightside table and pulls out two guns. He checks the ammo on both, then hands one to me. “Get in the closet. Don’t move until I come get you. If you see anyone else… shoot them.”
“Nico.” My voice shakes. “Just lock the door. Stay in here. Call the cops.”
“No.” He slides off the bed silently. Then he takes my free hand and pulls me towards the closet. “Don’t call anyone yet.”
“But—”
Nico carefully opens the closet door and pushes me inside. Then he hands me his phone. “Watch the cameras. If I go down, call 911. And Knight. But otherwise?—”
“If you godown?” Horrified, I gape at him. “Nico,no.”
“I won’t.” His eyes flash. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure, at least. Now.” He kisses me hard on the lips. “Stay here. Please. I can’t have you hurt.”
Then he backs away from the closet and shuts the door. Darkness engulfs me.
Instinct demands I run after him. Beg him not to do this. To barricade himself in the bedroom with me until help comes.
Unless the intruders can find their way in, of course. And then we end up trapped in the bedroom with three possibly armed intruders.
Arethey armed?
Duh. They broke into the condo. People don’t do that unless they have nefarious purposes. Do you think they came with water guns?
And Nico’s out there, one to their three. Or there could even be more.
I know he’s trained. I know Nico goes to the shooting range in the Fox & Falcon basement at least a couple times a week to keep up his skills. He works out almost daily. He spars with his friends on a regular basis.
But there’s still just one of him.
One against many.
What if he gets shot? Or stabbed? Or all three—four? five?—pile on top of him and they beat him to death?
Terror slams into me, stealing my breath.
Nico could die out there.
And here I am, hiding in the closet like a coward.
With the phone clutched in one hand, the gun in the other, I sit frozen in indecision.
Stay in here and wait, like Nico said?
Ignore his wishes and call 911 immediately? Call his friends for backup?
Or go out there to have his six myself?
I can use the gun—a Smith and Wesson, not the same model, but similar to the one I have at home. I’m not an expert shot, but I can hit the target more often than not. And if someone is creeping towards Nico, if they have him trapped at gunpoint…
I’m terrified to go out there. But I’m more scared of what might happen if I don’t.
