Page 101 of The Gentleman

He kneeled and angled a small mirror around the corner. Three men reflected in the convex glass—black fatigues, rifles at the ready.

Not rent-a-cops.

Leo pushed back to his feet, mind racing through options. Direct assault was possible—he and Kat could take three armed men—but gunfire would bring every hostile in the facility down on them.

“Trust me.” Kat’s voice was barely a breath against his ear.

Before he could respond, she was shrugging out of her tactical vest, the nylon straps sliding over her shoulders with soft rasps. Her jacket followed. The black T-shirt beneath clung to her frame, the sharp lines of her collarbone visible in the dim light.

He grabbed her arm, pulled her close, his voice a hiss against her ear. “Kat. No.”

But her eyes met his—calm and clear—her decision locked in.She wasn’t asking permission. She shook free of him and stepped into the corridor before he could react.

His heart slammed as she moved into the open, hands raised. Her Glock remained tucked against the small of her back, hidden beneath the loose hem of her T-shirt.

“Help,” she called out, her voice cracking with manufactured desperation. “Please, I can’t find my way out.”

Even knowing it was performance, the vulnerability in her tone made his protective instincts flare.

The three men pivoted toward her, weapons tracking her movement before deciding she posed no immediate threat. Their reflection in the glass door across from him was faint, but enough. Rifle barrels lowered fractionally.

Kat stumbled forward, one hand pressed to her chest as she gasped for air. She wheezed and dropped to her hands and knees, shoulders heaving as if fighting an asthma attack.

“Easy there.” The youngest of the guards stepped toward her. His rifle hung loose on its sling as he reached down. “Hey, slow down. You’re not supposed to be here.”

Kat’s fingers closed around his wrist. She rolled backward, fluid and fast, using his own momentum to launch him clean over her shoulder. He hit the concrete with a crack of bone.

Jesus. That sounded bad.

Leo rounded the corner as the second guard raised his weapon. He drove the butt of his rifle into the man’s throat. The guard dropped, choking.

The third guard was faster, weapon coming up in a rapid arc. Leo grabbed the barrel, wrenching it aside as the man’s finger found the trigger. The muzzle flash lit the corridor like lightning, the report deafening in the enclosed space. Concrete dust showered from the ceiling where the rounds struck.

Leo braced against the shockwave, ears ringing. Gunfire—that would bring company fast. Maybe ninety seconds, two minutes if they were lucky.

He drove his knee into the man’s solar plexus. Hewantedto feel the ribs give, and when they did, it felt good. Too good.

A hot spear of satisfaction hooked deep in his gut, sharp and wrong, and it scared the hell out of him.

The guard folded around the blow, weapon forgotten. Leo followed through with an elbowed smash to the temple. The man dropped, a slack heap on the floor.

A high-pitched whine lanced through Leo’s ears from the muzzle blast, but he didn’t stop moving.

The second man scrambled back to his feet, lunged for him, teeth bared. Kat’s boot shot out and he went down with a meaty thud.

Leo was on him before the man could rise, his arm locked hard around his neck. The man thrashed, heels scraping tile. Hands clawed at Leo’s forearm.

They could have killed her.

No.

They would have.

Blood surged hot in Leo’s veins. Nails gouged his forearm. He yanked harder. His vision tunneled. Heart slamming. Rage blotting out thought.

Pressure built behind his eyes. The man bucked and clawed. Slower now.

Leo didn’t ease off.

---