Page 185 of Beautifully Reckless
Alana’s rolling tears match mine as she nods, mouthing‘I love you’before blowing me a kiss.
Reluctance has her hesitating a moment longer, but I give her a reassuring nod, and she slowly closes the door, locking them safely in.
“Do you mind?” I snap, shooting the man a glare over my shoulder, and he sighs, removing the barrel from my temple.
“Let’s go,” he barks with impatience, and I nod, my hand grazing over the benchtop where a sharp knife peeks out from a discarded tea towel.
The second it’s in my hand, I scream and spin, raw and defiant, driving the knife deep into the man’s chest. He howls, staggering back as gunfire erupts inside the house.
I don’t wait another second, bolting for the stairs, forcing myself not to look at Jols’ lifeless body on the floor.
More gun wielding figures burst into the house, and my heart jackhammers as I push harder, desperate to get away.
“Get her!” The man I stabbed roars, clutching his chest, blood blooming fast beneath his hand.
The newcomers take chase, their boots pounding behind me.
I clutch under my belly as I take the stairs, two at a time, desperate to get to Ringo’s room where I know a gun is stashed under the mattress, and my phone is on the bedside table.
“You havenowhere to run!” a new male voice snarls, way too close, and I squeal as I feel his fingers brush my back as he lunges.
He slips, and I risk a glance back to see him tumbling into another man on the staircase. That man doesn’t help him, just shoves him out of the way and keeps coming.
Hold on, little cabbage. Mummy will get us out of this somehow.
I nearly trip on the last step, but catch myself just in time, rushing forward to Ringo’s door.
The moment I’m inside, I go to slam it but I meet strong resistance. A body. A hand. Someone is pushing through.
“Stop fucking fighting,” the man snarls, pressing into the door from the other side.
“Never!” I scream, pushing against the door, somehow managing to get it closed and locked.
My heart is louder than the thunder and gunfire outside, so I take in deep steadying breaths as I charge down the passage, hoping to slow my pulse as I enter the suite.
Fists pound the door, before something else starts crashing into it, and I know it won’t hold for long.
A loud crack claps through the air, and wood splinters from the gunshot. I squeal in fright, running as fast as I can, skidding around the corner into the bedroom before diving for the mattress.
Heavy feet pound through the suite, whimpers falling past my lips as I scramble to find the gun under the mattress, friction burns on my knees starting to throb as I kneel on the carpet.
The moment my fingers brush the metal I’m searching for, I cry out in relief.
Spinning to my butt, Iraise the gun just in time to see one of the men lunging for me. I don’t think. I just act, squeezing the trigger.
The kickback from the gun frightens me, and I lose my grip as the man crumbles to his knees, clutching his stomach.
“Bitch shot me!” he whines, glaring at me like I’m the bad one for trying to defend myself.
I blindly search for the gun, my hand patting over the carpet while my eyes lock onto the second masked man approaching.
“It’s a pity they want you alive,” he spits, his gun trained on me as another man barges into the room. “I’d happily kill you, right here.”
“We don’t have long. Let’s get her out of here,” the new masked man mutters, moving to the one I shot to help him stand.
“What the fuck do you think we are trying to do?” The one closing in on me snaps, but even though he’s talking to his partners in crime, his eyes don’t leave me.
Dammit. I need the gun.
