Page 45 of Laying it Bare on the Run

“He won’t shoot me. He doesn’t want damaged goods.” I retorted with more bravado than real courage, since it was only a guess on my part. But I had to find a way to stall.Help had to have been coming, right? Cannon had an alarm system, so even if the forced black out disabled it; a message had to have been sent about it for someone to check it out. And the neighbors had to have heard the gunshots and breaking glass.Please tell me someone called 911 to report this invasion.

Waik’s laugh was like a pile of stones being tossed about. “That’s why you are going to be a prized possession for some lucky foreign man. I’m growing very impatient, Harper.”

“Cannon, I can’t lose you.” I choked on my tears. Cannon was injured and I was unarmed facing a madman with a gun. My options were limited.

“My ankle.” Cannon moaned under his breath.

For a moment, his words scrambled my already overloaded brain. He hadn’t been shot there.Did he twist it when he went down? Although, why would he be complaining about something I couldn’t solve? But then his meaning struck me. He always wore two weapons.

Pretending to tend to his wound, I traced my hand down his leg. When I encountered the small gun tucked in a holster around his ankle, I swiftly slipped it from its pouch, released the safety, and aimed it at Waik. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Why don’t you walk away? The police can catch up with you later.”

Waik let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, you are something, Harper. But first, I don’t believe you have it in you to kill someone in cold blood, but I do. And second, you fire off a shot and I’ll squeeze off a few more too because I doubt you’ll hit your target. Are you willing to take the chance I’ll hit you and not Cannon?”

I had to get Waik’s gun pointed away from us. Swallowing hard and praying my trembling hands wouldn’t accidentally put a bullet in my own brain; I rolled my wrist and pointed the gun at my own head.

“Harper.” Cannon hissed.

“Oh my dear.” Waik tsked. “You really think I believe you will shoot your pretty brains out right in front of your lover here?”

“You took away my entire family! And we all know once you get me away from Cannon, you will kill him too! I will have nothing left! And I’d rather be dead than have to live in captivity across the ocean knowing the man I love is dead! So don’t pretend to know a fucking thing about what I will and won’t do!” Fear, anger, and frustration poured through me causing my unsteady hand to quake all the more.

More nonsense spewed from Waik’s mouth but I hardly paid attention to his words. He wasn’t taking me alive. During his rant, he gestured around the room with the hand that held his gun. Without giving it a second thought, with his gun no longer trained on us, I spun my wrist and aimed the gun at Waik before firing off three rounds. Even in the dark, I was pretty certain I had nailed him square in the chest with at least one of them. “One for me, one for Cannon, and one for Vincent you bastard!” I shrieked as Waik pressed a hand to his chest and dropped to the floor with a loud heavy thud. “That one that hit you was from Vincent you fucker!” My hands shook uncontrollably and I couldn’t get my rage and fear and countless other unidentifiable emotions under control.

“Don’t go anywhere.” Scrambling across the floor, Cannon’s gun still trained on where Waik had landed, I shoved my leg out in quick bursts – so in the off chance Waik was still alive he’d have a harder time grabbing me – and kicked his slumped body, hard.

He didn’t stir or make a sound.

Crawling backwards, I sidled up to Cannon’s side. “I think they’re all dead.” I whispered. “What do we do now?” Part of my brain knew we should call the police but most of my neuron activity was busy trying to wrap my head around the entire situation. Cannon had almost been killed right before my eyes and I had been mere moments from being kidnapped and on my way to another country.

“Baby, put the gun down.” Cannon’s composed tender voice brought me out of my troubling thoughts.

I stared at the hot metal in my hand for a moment. I had killed a man. Just like I had said I would, given the chance. Did that mean I had just committed . . .

“Baby, it’s okay. Put the gun down. It’s over and now you’re safe.” Cannon lightly ran his fingers along my cheek.

Sighing into his touch, I took in a steadying breath. Then I set the gun down on the floor by his waist. The attempt at a calming breath did nothing to settle my shaking hands so I placed them on the sides of his face, needing the connection. “Are you okay, Cannon? Where’s your phone so I can call for help.”

“I’m going to be alright, Baby. Are you okay?”

My adrenaline fizzling out, I ducked my head into his shoulder. “I don’t know. I almost lost you. Then I would have lost everyone I love.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “But you didn’t, Harper. It’s over now and you’re safe.” He tugged his hand gently through my hair.

In the distance, sirens wailed and in mere seconds grew to the pitch of screeching banshees right before red and blue flashing and white spot lights danced across the interior walls. The vision gave me the distinct feeling of being in the middle of a raid scene from an action movie.

Twisting slightly, I raised a hand up to shield my eyes from the onslaught of light after being plunged into darkness for – well shit, I doubted the entire ordeal lasted more than fifteen minutes. For a moment, I marveled over that realization.

“Police. Don’t move.” A loud voice commanded just as the front door came crashing in. Several uniformed figures with lights and weapons at the ready swarmed the small space.

“Geez guys. Who’s gonna pay to fix that?” With the arm not around me, Cannon pointed to the huge opening where his door once stood.

“I’m guessing the scene’s secure since you’re slinging around jokes.”

The beams of light grazed over the dead bodies strewn across Cannon’s living room and hallway.

“I don’t think there are anymore, Greg. The action halted when Waik went down. But it’s not a bad idea to scope things out just to be sure.”

His sergeant barked out orders to the officers who had followed him inside. Then he walked over to us, calling into the radio clipped to the top of his uniform for an ambulance. When he got to where Cannon was propped up against the front of his bar, he knelt down beside him, shined his light on his leg, and lifted the towel briefly. “Shit, Man. That doesn’t look good. You couldn’t have just gotten a flesh wound?”

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