Page 127 of Rogue Mission
The coffee pot is lighter than the microscope I used at Westerly’s building. And I’m more fierce.
My throat opens on a roar as I launch it.
Wraith’s eyes widen, he ducks. But it’s too late. My aim is true.
Borosilicate glass, meet assassin face.
FORTY-FIVE
That screamed roar will forever be in my ears. But he will never threaten my woman again.
The bullet spits from the muzzle of my gun, the crack deafening in the small kitchen.
Everything is in slow motion. Space and time warps.
I catalog my hand on Rosalie’s head, tangled in her thick hair, pressing her down toward the floor.
The spray of blood from Walton’s body moves in slow motion as red drops hit the cabinets.
Coffee flows across the worn boards.
Acrid, burnt gunpowder hits my nose with every rapid inhale.
Spence kicks the weapon away from the screaming man.
Relief.
Forcing a swallow full of nails, I look down.
Profound, bone-melting relief washes over me. Through me. Filling me from head to toe with warmth.
She’s safe.
“Jesus,” I rasp, dragging Rosalie up from the floor, into my arms. “It’s okay, honey. It’s all over.”
She grabs me, fiercely clinging to me, wrapping her arms and legs around me. “I didn’t know what to do,” she sobs.
“You did everything perfectly.”
All I can do is breathe against her temple as I choke, tears knifing at the back of my eyes.
“My brave, smart girl.”
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale fully.
I breathe with ease for the first time since I found out there was a hired killer on her trail.
“It’s over,” I whisper hoarsely against her ear, crushing her tighter. “It’s fucking over. All of it.”
“Get her out of here!” Spence barks, wearing a battle-hardened expression as he grabs Walton.
It wasn’t a kill shot.
That would have been too fast, too painless for someone who was going to kill Rosalie for fucking money.
I snap back into mission mode, evacuating the kitchen through the back door.
She’s shaking. I’m shaking. The adrenaline is running hot and volatile.
