Page 58 of Braxton

A gunshot popped, followed by another, and Quinn’s head snapped up. Grendel’s eyes went wide and he dropped the container. Acid poured out of the opening, spreading across the floor. A bright blossom of red spread across his chest and he fell dead, falling face first in the acidic puddle.

Saint moved through the doorway, fast and low, Gray and Inda close behind. Relief swept through Quinn, but she scrambled forward, trying to get away from the quickly-spreading trail of acid. While Gray brought Cross down with a bullet, Saint released Braxton from the pillory and helped him up. Meanwhile, Inda lowered down to check on Ryland.

Ripping free from the ropes, Quinn kicked the chair aside and crawled forward. Suddenly, Brax was there, sweeping her up off the floor and into his arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked, holding her face and raining frantic kisses all over it. “Your leg?”

He pulled back to look at it, but she clutched onto his wrists, refusing to let go, holding on for dear life. God, the image of his head locked in that guillotine would haunt her forever. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“I am now.” He looked over where Inda had pulled Ryland’s vest off. “How is he?”

“Okay,” Ryland answered with a grimace.

“Looks like the bullet exited through the back of his shoulder,” Inda said, giving his chest a light pat. “Daddy here will be just fine.”

“Daddy?” Cross managed to croak. Saint had put two bullets in the man and he lay propped against the side of the guillotine’s frame, face wreathed in pain and a hand over his heart as he slowly bled out.

“Yeah, and I promise to be nothing like you,” Ryland said. “I’m going to be the best goddamn dad in the entire world.”

“Where’s Camille?” Quinn asked, looking around. The woman was nowhere in sight.

“Leave her alone,” Cross hissed, but everyone ignored him.

Inda popped up. “She must’ve slipped out during all the chaos. Don’t worry, I’ll find her.”

“Bruja, take Saint and Demon,” Braxton ordered.

“What about the guests upstairs?” Quinn asked as they headed for the tunnel.

Gray paused. “We warned them not to touch anything, that it was probably poisoned, and they all took off.”

“Can’t say I blame them,” Saint added wryly.

“Not our circus, not our monkeys,” Gray said, and they disappeared into the labyrinth.

Quinn released Brax’s wrists and wrapped her arms around his neck. They pressed their foreheads together. “Thank God you’re alright,” she murmured, running her fingers up through his curls. “I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

“It’s over,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and turning her toward the door. They walked over to Ryland and Brax extended his hand. “Need some help?”

“Thanks.” Ryland grasped Braxton’s hand and he hauled the other man up.

Behind them, there was a slight scuffling sound, and Quinn looked over her shoulder to see Cross slump sideways and grab his gun. As he was swinging it in their direction, Ryland lifted his Glock and fired twice. Two perfectly-aimed shots—one in his heart, the other between his eyes. Cross fell, this time for good.

Ryland’s arm dropped and a storm of emotions crossed his face. “Now, it’s over,” he stated grimly.

Almost, Quinn thought. They still had to find Camille and Zaitsev.

???

It seemed karma decided to take care of the final two players involved with The Agency. When Braxton, Quinn and Ryland reached the main floor of the manor house, the rest of his team appeared.

“Where’s Camille?” Quinn asked. Knowing the woman was on the loose, somewhere in the large house, made Quinn extremely uneasy.

“Dead,” Gray stated. “But not because of us.”

“What do you mean?” Brax asked.

“She ran through the dining room, grabbed a bottle of champagne and locked herself in a bedroom,” Inda said. “The one you told us about, Quinn.”

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