Brian mutters a curse but stays down.
“Another gun in the bedside table,” I tell him.
“How many guns do you have?” he hisses back.
“A lot.”
“And how many are hidden around the house?”
I huff out a breath, annoyed at the questions. “We don’t have time for this right now.” Also, I don’t actually know the answer to that. I just know they are all hidden in places impossible for the girls to access, and all are in biometric safes. I may kill people for a living, but that doesn’t mean I don’t believe in gun safety. Or gun control, for that matter. Most people I know should definitelynothave guns.
Somewhere in the house, there’s athump.
My only thought isthe girls, and like that, I’m on my feet.
“Nadia—”
I ignore him. I won’t let anyone fuck with my family, even if it means I’m killed in the process. If I’ve learned anything from these past weeks, it’s that I’m nothing without them. I squat on one knee to make myself a smaller target, aim my gun over the top of my forearm to steady the weapon, and yank the door open.
An empty hallway.
They might be waiting at the turn of the hall. Or in the girls’bedroom. They could have retreated down the stairs, a shotgun aimed at the top for whoever makes their way down. My breath is even, my hands steady. Brian comes up from behind me, the gun he pulled from the bedside table held in a two-handed grip identical to mine. Our gazes meet and we nod, then start down the passageway together.
My first stop is the girls’ room. Without asking, Brian moves to open the door while I stand to one side, aiming and ready. We burst through, synchronized, like we know what we’re doing. And for a moment, I’m utterly grateful that we’re both who we are—we’re both dangerous and capable and deadly. I breathe a sigh of relief to find that, besides two little girls who can sleep through just about anything, and Bear, who’s awake and alert at the foot of Eliza’s bed, the room is empty. I double-check that they’re breathing, that they’re okay, then shut the door and lock it behind me.
A few more steps, and we’ll be past the shelter of the landing. In the danger zone of whoever might be waiting beyond. If it were just me, I’m not sure how I would handle it—I might not. I might stop and wait for them to make a move. On my own, I would literally be a sitting duck, putting myself within their purview. In fact, one of us will still have to, but at least with Brian—withthe two of us—we can work together and stop them.
Brian taps my shoulder, indicating he’ll go first. His eyes are focused, razor-sharp, probably like he is at work. I shake my head—motion thatIwill go ahead of him—but he mouths a nonnegotiableNoand starts forward. My heart accelerates, and I hope he’ll be able to move fast enough—maybe shoot fast enough—with his injury. Then I force myself to focus, to go to the side and aim, to wait for whoever it is to show their face.
A man flies around the edge of a wall to level his gun in Brian’s direction.
Another hitman.
My finger squeezes the trigger, once, twice, three times—then, blood. Silence.
“Holy shit,” Brian whispers. He stares at me, like despite the past several hours, he still can’t quite believe his eyes. Then he crosses the landing and kisses me.
Chapter Fifty-Three
The last thing I everthought my husband and I would do together is bury a body.
“Is this the real reason you wanted a minivan?” he asks as I park the Honda at the edge of the wilderness preserve.
“Of course not. I like the third-row seating too.”
He snorts.
“Have you ever taken care of a body?” I ask.
That changes the temperature in the car real fast. “Well, I—”
“That’s a no.”
Brian peers out the window into the darkness—though now the sun really is coming up. After I shot and killed Brian’s second would-be hitman of the day, we zipped him up in a body bag, compliments of Brian, which I have to say is far more convenient than the industrial trash bags I usually use. Better at containing DNA too. We loaded it in the back of the van, then we cleaned—and cleaned some more.
When Piper zombie-walked out of my office to check on all the commotion, I hurried up the stairwell, pinching my cheeks to force a blush.
“What the hell was that?” she asked.
