Ian pivoted out, his hand coming up. His eyes had adjusted but all he needed was that one flash of white where the man’s hood had drifted back, exposing pale skin.
He squeezed the trigger in one easy move, his target in sight.
Now he heard the best sound of all. The sound of his enemy hitting the ground.
Shit. He hoped he hadn’t killed the fucker.
Moving quickly, he crossed the distance between them, keeping his SIG ready in case he hadn’t completely incapacitated the man who had tried to shoot him to get to Charlie.
A black-clad figure lay still on the ground, his hand on what appeared to be a sniper rifle. Ian kicked it away and the body didn’t move. Shit. He needed more practice time with moving objects. He was getting rusty because he hadn’t meant to hit the fucker’s jugular, but it appeared he had given the amount of blood pumping out of his victim’s body.
Alex was going to kill him for getting all that blood on his brand new yard. Using his boot, he turned the body over, assessing it. Six foot. Probably one ninety. He was dressed in all black, assassin chic. A black bag had fallen to the side. Ian rifled through it. Cartridges, extra pair of gloves, cell phone, passport, some cash, and a flask. Vodka. Ah, the Russians. They did like to celebrate the little victories.
He picked up the kit and started for the house. They would have to get rid of the body, but maybe something in the assassin’s bag would offer up some useful intel.
He stopped just before he reached the back doors. The lights came on, nearly blinding him.
Ian jumped out of the way. Alex wouldn’t have turned on the light. Gunfire cracked through the air. Fuck. There was more than one. His eyes started to adjust to the light, and he saw a man standing under the archway, a handgun pointed at Alex.
“I am looking for the girls. Give them to me and I let you and your wife live,” he said in a thick Russian accent.
Alex had the man in his sights, but they were at a standoff because for some damn reason, Eve had left her safe position behind the soapstone-covered counter and was on the floor in between the two men with guns. The Russian had one upped Alex. He was two fisting, with one gun trained on Alex and the other steady at Eve’s head.
He couldn’t see Charlie or Chelsea.
“Somehow, I doubt that,” Alex replied, his voice steady.
“I know you have them here. I was watching place. I think to take your wife and exchange for girls, but you bring them to me. You love wife? You want her to live?”
“Let my wife go and we’ll talk about this. I might know where they are.” It was a stalling tactic. Ian set the bag he was carrying on the ground as Alex continued. “I would be willing to make an exchange, but not until my wife is safe.”
Ian chanced looking around the corner. Alex was attempting to give him time to get back to the house and surprise the fucker, but he couldn’t just go in guns blazing.
Luckily, those lights were bright and Ian was covered by the gloom outside. He could see inside, but it would be difficult for anyone to see him from the circle of all that light.
The Russian had moved closer, the gun in his left hand touching Eve’s head. She was turned away from the Russian. Her eyes were steady on Alex, but no panic showed there. Good girl. She wasn’t feeding Alex’s fear. She was calmly waiting for him to resolve the situation because she trusted her Master. Charlie could learn a few things from Eve.
“But, my friend, if I let wife go, I have nothing to bargain with. Perhaps I take her with me.” There was a nasty chuckle from the assassin as he used the barrel of his gun to play with Eve’s hair. “Maybe after few hours, you will be in mood to share.”
Eve wasn’t feeding Alex’s fear, but this fucker was damn straight going to make Alex blow, and that could be bad for everyone. He had to be precise. Ian shed his fear for Eve, his concern for Alex, and let the plan roll out in his head. Two steps toward the door. That was what he would need. It would leave him shrouded in darkness, but get him close enough that he wouldn’t accidently hit Eve. Head shot. One shot straight through the brain pan and those guns would drop. The target was a little under six feet, but they weren’t on level ground, so he would adjust two inches higher.
All the tension left his body and he stepped up, ready to take out his second asshole of the evening.
But Charlie popped up first. She rose from behind the counter, the nail gun the contractors had left behind firmly in her hands. She had one hand holding the thing up and the other was pulling back the safety trigger that allowed the nail gun to fire. Her pretty face showed no expression as she pulled the trigger and popped two big-ass nails into the side of the Russian’s head and neck. He never saw it coming, didn’t react in any way except to get a stupid expression on his face and fall to the side, dead before he hit the ground.
God, she was hot. She was a fucking warrior goddess with a damn nail gun, and he kind of wanted to do her right then and there, despite the many bodies now littering Alex’s property. Eve might be really good with submissive trust, but Charlie had amazing aim and a steady hand.
Eve sat in the middle of her floor, seemingly unable to move. “Did Charlie just kill that guy with a nail gun?”
Alex was kneeling, trying to help his wife up. “Yes, thank god.” He hauled her into his arms, pulling her away from the corpse. “Are you all right?”
“Is there blood on the hardwoods? Because I don’t think our warranty covers that,” Eve was saying.
Ian watched Charlie as she calmly put the nail gun down, but he noticed her hands were shaking, a fine tremble. Her hand went down, helping Chelsea stand. No one was there to cuddle Charlie, to wrap her up and let her know everything would be okay. He could see the sadness in her eyes, the knowledge that she was alone.
Fuck. He wanted to go and hold her and praise her for her skills with turning construction machinery into killing weapons.
“I wouldn’t move if I was you, mate,” a familiar voice said from right behind him. He heard the distinct sound of a safety being clicked off. “I know you’re quite fast, but I’m no slouch myself, and I would really hate to kill a friend.”
How had he missed it? He’d allowed someone to get his fucking back because he’d been busy worrying about Charlie’s feelings. “I’m not feeling too friendly right this second, Damon.”
A hand touched his shoulder. Damon Knight, MI6 agent and usually an ally, slapped him on the right shoulder. It hadn’t been so long ago that he’d helped Ian with an op in London, but it looked like the cooperation ended there. “I have to ask you to drop the gun, mate.”