Page 5 of Death By Chocolate

“You mentioned the camera.”

I fold my arms. “I did.”

“You notice things about me, like fucking. I noticed you saw me covered in blood, and you, Dani, licked your lips. So, was it for the dying man or me?”

I suck in a breath at his no lies told revelation. Damn, his fine ass is infuriating already. He’s got my number. Skill recognizes skill. His lips split into a pleased grin. Why does his smile rattle a simmering need I keep under biometric lock and key? Please let me hold onto my shit. The sooner Xeno Voss is safe inside The Governor, the faster I can lower the heat level rising between me and the fuckable stranger whose thin dossier belies how dangerous this man must be, not bearing any visible scars.

If only I’d been so lucky.

Against my best judgment, I take the bait. “What’s funny?”

“There you are,” he declares in triumph, “the fuck bait who hides behind her position,” he smirks, dropping his proper English to match my zero-to-straight-up hood vibe.

“Fuck bait,” I repeat, jabbing him in the chest with a singular red-painted fingernail. Oh, he’s ‘bout to get his ass ripped. “Is this your fuck the bodyguard foreplay?”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer.

“Shush, something’s off,” I say, searching. Passengers shift, bunching together like gawkers once the police come on a crime scene. It’s human nature to seek out safety in numbers. Oneness is its own brand of vulnerability. Who or what has them intentionally invading each other’s personal space?

Xeno’s voice reaches me. “What is—”

A dull pop echoes through the terminal. My instincts kick in a split second before the first scream rips through the air.

Gunfire.

Instead of seeking cover, my client takes a step toward the danger.

"Get down!" I shout, grabbing Xeno by the arm and yanking him toward the ground. The chaotic blur of travelers diving forcover filled my peripheral vision, but my focus narrowed to the flashes of muzzle fire from the right across the terminal. Two men blocked their exit to the parking garage. A matching duo pulled weapons from the position at the ticketing counter on the left. And worse, they were closing three men advancing through the exit directly in front of me.

Damn it.

Seven men. Moving fast. Coordinated. There’s no need to waste time looking behind me; we’re outnumbered, outgunned.

I unbuttoned my suit jacket and grabbed both custom-designed ceramic Glocks from my waist holsters.

“Damn it, no sword. Give me the gun,” Xeno demands.

“Shut. Up. Keep your head down.”

I had read in his dossier he preferred sword play to guns. Sucks to be him. I release a barrage of bullets, aiming high, hopeful civilians would hit the ground, giving me a clear shot at the men in front of me. My guns stay loaded.

“Damn it, woman.”

My strategy works as planned.

Heartbeat pounding in my ears. I aim both barrels at the twelve o’clock position. Seconds is all the time I had to save lives. I need to reach outside to minimize the number of casualties or reduce the possibility of a would-be hero getting in the fucking way of my targets. The world around me sharpens, sounds and movements becoming painfully clear. I could hear the clatter of suitcases, the sharp intake of breath from panicked travels, the shouts of airport security trying to regain control.

I call out a command, activating my link to The Governor’s artificial intelligence control system via my earpiece: “House, arm all personal defense systems. GPS lock on my coordinates. Immediate evacuation.”

“Systems activated. Evacuation estimated three minutes.”

Minutes are a lifetime to die with this many guns aimed at the asset. The three in front are smart, advancing in a line, before fanning. But they didn’t anticipate my dual return fire.

One and two drop, and the third is caught by surprise. A bullet between the eyes is my gift to him.

And now there are four.

“Move now,” I yell above the deafening sirens. Xeno moves, moves away from me.

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