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“Tell you what.” I whipped my Beretta out from the hollow of my back. “Let’s just settle this.” I kept my smile hard, mean as I flicked off the safety switch.
There was honest-to-god fear in her eyes, and it shouldn’t have felt this good.
I needed her.
Now was not the time to come unhinged.
Grabbing her hand, I pushed the gun into her palm. My fingers curled around hers keeping her hand on the butt. She tried to fight, tried to jerk free—a tug of wills as I jerked her arm and pushed the barrel right up under my chin.
Dangling from her wrist, the empty handcuff swayed between us. The clock was still ticking; this night could always go from bad to worse.
There was no backing down.
“If you don’t trust me, shoot me.”
My grip on her hand tightened as she recoiled, big eyes so close to tears as she bumped up against the door. Nowhere to run. We settled this now.
“Shoot me.” Temper tugged my leash. “Come on. I’m the monster, blow off my head.”
She was tired. Scared. My attitude wasn’t helping.
But I’d tossed the coin into the air; now I waited for it to come down.
“You said no pointing guns at you.” Her voice quavered, the trembling in her body finding sound.
“Well, I’m changing the rules. You saw how I killed Harry and the others?”
Her eyes narrowed, and she nodded.
“All it takes is a bullet in my brain. Anytime darlin’. You’ve got a gun.”
She tried to yank away her hand.
“Now, you going to trust me?”
“Yes.” She spat the word out as she yanked again.
Because I could, and because I was a dick, I held a moment longer before letting her go. Free, she tucked her hand into her armpit and hugged herself.
I didn’t believe her. If she had it in her to kill me, she wouldn’t have run. Still, she probably felt safer now, and that was all that mattered.
There was no relief that the argument was over. The burn of adrenalin still warmed my blood. If I could trust she wouldn’t run again, I’d go walk it off. Instead, I backed away, giving her room. “Let me check your leg. Make sure there’s no glass in the cut. Go sit on the bed.”
She glared but did as she was told.
It was a shaky truce.
Finally dropping the bag off my shoulder, I went into the bathroom to come back with two wet cloths—one for her hands and face, one to clean the wound. Opening the bag, I sorted through my emergency kit.
I had a small flashlight I could hold in my teeth and a pair of tweezers that might be okay for grabbing splinters. “If these tweezers don’t work, if there’s any deep glass, I might have to cut you. Where’s your knife?”
“Nice try.”
I sighed and shook my head before drawing my gun again and putting it on the bed, within her reach. Then I sank to my haunches between her spread thighs.
This time, when I touched her leg, it was gentle, my fingertips skimming for any hardness or scratchiness of glass. The flashlight should reflect if there was any.
Blood had dried like rust on her leg, and this close the faint metallic scent filled my nose. Strangely appealing...blood was not my kink.
