Page 93 of When Fashion Turns Deadly

He took another menacing step toward her, and for a fleeting moment, Marit considered backing into the closet and closing the door between them. It wouldn’t stop Adams for long, but it might buy her friends time to get back.

“I’m only going to ask you this one more time.” Adams’s eyes flashed, and he raised his gun a little higher. “Where did you put the clothes?”

Get out of the line of fire. Stay out of the line of fire. Unbidden, Cole’s instructions flashed into her mind. Marit had truly hoped she would never again face a weapon, but Cole had told her what she needed to do. She pressed her hand against the wall. She didn’t feel ready. The closet would be easier. Unfortunately, it would also trap her completely. She couldn’t risk having Adams do to her what he’d done to James.

Her heart racing, she took a step toward Adams. “The only clothes I know anything about are the ones I’m wearing.”

“Where are the blue, silver, and gold gowns?” he hissed. “When the pink trouser suit didn’t come out on schedule, I knew exactly who to blame. But you’re not going to prevent me from showing those gowns.” He narrowed his eyes. “You have three seconds to tell me where they are.”

Pushing herself into motion, Marit struck her right hand out, grabbing at Adams’s wrist with as much force as she could muster.

Shock flashed across his face. His grip loosened, and the gun went flying out of his hand.

***

Isabelle stepped into the hall at the same moment a gun skidded across the floor and thudded against the wall. It came to a stop midway between where Adams and Marit stood and where Isabelle had entered.

Isabelle’s shock at finding him here, armed and away from the stage, mirrored the expression on Adams’s face.

Marit and Adams scrambled toward the gun as Isabelle rushed forward. Adams was faster.

He leaned down to retrieve the weapon when Isabelle was still two steps away.

“Watch out!” Marit cried.

Clearly determined to keep the pistol out of Adams’s possession, Marit thrust both arms out to keep him from reaching the gun. She succeeded in pushing him off-balance, and Isabelle kicked her leg out, her stiletto heel clipping his arm.

The force of impact knocked him back another step and prevented him from retrieving the gun that was currently between his feet.

He reached down again, but this time, Isabelle was close enough to use her hands. She took a quick step forward and thrust her arm out, the heel of her hand striking Adams in the chin.

His head jolted back; the force of the open-palm strike sent him stumbling once more but not enough to give Isabelle or Marit the space needed to grab the weapon without risking a kick to the head.

Adams recovered more quickly than Isabelle had expected, and fury flashed in his eyes. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with. I’ll kill you both.”

“Just like you killed Brinton James?” Isabelle asked.

Adams’s only response was to dive for his weapon. Before he could reach it, Isabelle kicked it and sent it sliding out of reach.

“Marit, grab the gun!”

Marit hobbled toward it, but again, Adams was faster. He rushed forward, leaned down to pick it up, and Isabelle launched herself at him, grabbing Adams from behind.

He straightened, pistol in hand, and turned quickly, Isabelle now clinging to his back.

“Marit, get down!”

Marit darted into the closet an instant before a gunshot sparked through the air. The bullet thudded into the doorframe right beside where Marit had been standing only a second earlier.

Isabelle hooked her arm around Adams’s throat, pressing on his windpipe with the crook of her elbow.

Adams turned in a circle, reaching back with his free hand to grab at Isabelle. When his efforts proved unsuccessful, he swiveled and rammed Isabelle into the wall.

Pain shot through her shoulder, which had absorbed most of the impact, and a moan escaped her.

Isabelle’s hold loosened, and Adams broke free. He whirled, aiming his gun at the same time Marit burst back out of the closet wielding a broom.

Marit swung the broom at Adams’s legs. Wood cracked against his knee.

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