Page 102 of Taking Care of the Target

Footsteps pounded up the stairs, and Vince pushed her behind him and trained his gun on the landing. A noise made her turn, and she caught sight of a guy swinging through the window she should’ve locked. He rolled to the floor, the bed now covering him.

“Um, Vince—”

The shooter hiding behind the stairway wall stuck his gun around the corner and blindly fired. Vince shot back, and Cassie caught movement in the bedroom. With Vince’s attention on the other guy, she leveled her gun on the open doorway. The guy started out, gun raised, and Cassie fired.

The first bullet hit too high, and the guy clearly hadn’t expected it. His finger twitched on the trigger, and she fired again, hitting him square in the chest. He stumbled back, hit the edge of the bed, and then his limp body slumped to the ground. For a moment she could only stare in shock. She’d told herself she could do it if her life depended on it, but…

I just killed someone.

“It’s okay, baby,” Vince said, tugging her back to him. “You did good.” He motioned for her to get low, and when she crouched, he crept closer to the corner of the wall. The guy stuck his gun out again, and Vince grabbed his wrist, yanked him forward and drove his fist into his face. The guy tried to raise his gun again, and Vince blocked and shot. The guy fell back and twitched, making a horrible garbled choking noise before going completely still.

“Two down,” Cassie whispered. “How many do you think we have to go?”

What few lights were on in the house died, sending everything into darkness and shadow. They’d just cut the power. Great.

“Looks like at least one more,” Vince said in a deathly low voice.

Cassie’s feet didn’t want to move, but she forced them into motion again and they made it to the bottom of the stairs. She tripped over a dark object, and when Vince moved to grab her, a guy dove on top of him, sending all three of them crashing to the floor.

Deputy Florez—he was the object she’d tripped over. The streetlights filtered in through the window and lit his dead eyes. Fear rose up, along with the bile in her throat.

I don’t have time to freak out.Self-preservation kicked in, and she gripped her gun, leveling it on Vince and the attacker he was exchanging blows with.

The risk of hitting Vince was too great to pull the trigger. Vince slammed his fist into the guy’s gut and followed up with a left hook into the side of his face, so it looked like he had it under control.

“Cassie?” she heard, the voice weak. She looked around, keeping a tight grip on her gun. There. Near the back door. Someone was down. He lifted his head, and Cassie’s heart dropped.

“Tom.” She rushed over and dropped to her knees, realizing last minute that what she’d thought was a shadow was a pool of blood.

“Tried to…warn…You gotta…” Tom’s breath escaped in a puff, and his head dropped back to the floor. “Go.”

Cassie searched his body for the source of the bleeding. There were two shots in the back, but she didn’t think they’d punctured his vest. Just underneath the vest on his left side she found the bullet wound. She gently tipped him up a few inches, hoping she wasn’t doing more damage than good. The exit wound in the front of his leg was huge, blood leaking out at an alarming rate.

She saw a hand towel hanging from the oven in the kitchen and dove in there to grab it, trying to juggle it and her gun.

When she crawled back to Tom, she set her gun to the side and pressed the towel to the wound, trying to get it into place so his weight would help keep pressure against it.

A loud gunshot split the air and three or four breath-robbing seconds later, Vince stepped around the corner.

“It’s Tom,” Cassie said. “He’s sho—behind you!”

Vince spun around, arm raised, but the other guy fired first. The shot drove Vince back, into the living room where she couldn’t see, and a dark outline darted after him.

Cassie slid her hands out from under Tom and reached for her gun. Right as a booted foot came down on her hand.

She cried out, trying to inch her fingers forward and get them around the handle of her gun, and he twisted his foot. The ache of grinding bones traveled all the way up to her shoulder. Then a large forearm wrapped around her throat.

Two more shots rang out from Vince’s vicinity, loud ones that made her hope they came from his gun.

“I hoped you’d be the one to stop for the cop.” The arm around her throat squeezed tighter as whoever owned it hauled her to her feet. She struggled against him, trying to get enough leverage to try one of her defense moves, but the guy was so strong, and with her oxygen quickly fading, her limbs weren’t working like they should.

The barrel of his gun pressed against her temple and panic replaced what little air was left in her lungs.

“I’m Jackhammer—I came into the restaurant once. Wouldn’t have recognized you without the updated description, though. Let’s see how much time we have to get acquainted.”

His lips brushed her ear and disgust crept across her skin. She made herself as small as she could, trying to put more space between them. “Be a good girl and yell for Vince, so we can see if he’s the one who made it.” He increased the pressure of the barrel against her temple, pushing until tears stung her eyes. “Only make it sound like everything’s all right or I’ll pull the trigger.”

He loosened his grip around her neck, and she gulped in a quick breath, the oxygen a clash of burning and cool relief.

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