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“She’s dead.”
“If you hadn’t tackled her when you did, she would have killed me.”
She looked up at him then, and he realized she was in shock. Regret mingled with tenderness. This was most likely her first kill. Killing someone was never easy, but Ash knew from experience that the first one lingered forever.
When he held out his hand to pull her up, he saw another reason for her shock. She was bleeding.
“Where are you cut?”
“My arm. Maybe my shoulder. Not sure.”
Ash lifted her in his arms and laid her on the sofa. “Omar, this might be a good time to get your people in here.”
Omar had propped himself up against the back of a chair. “Just sent a text. Should be here in a few minutes. A doctor, too.”
Ash nodded absently, his concern for Jules overriding anything else. Her face was sheet-white, and she was beginning to shiver. Shrugging out of his jacket, he covered her and then examined her arm. She had two cuts. The one on the top of her shoulder wasn’t deep. The other, on her forearm, would require a few stitches. He quickly checked the rest of her body but saw no other obvious injuries. Her pulse was strong and steady.
“You did good,” Ash said quietly.
“Thanks. It got messy.”
“Yeah.”
“How’s Omar?”
“He’ll live. He—”
What sounded like a herd of thundering boots rushing toward them had Ash surging to his feet. Six men, all armed to the teeth, exploded into the room.
Omar shouted, “Stop. Everything’s under control.” He nodded toward the three bloody bodies in the middle of the room. “Take them out of here. I’ll decide later what to do with them.”
While the men carried out his orders, an older, heavyset man carrying a medical bag squatted down in front of Omar. As he tended to Omar’s wound, the weapons broker grinned over at Ash. “You saved my life.”
Ash nodded his agreement and let that stand. As Jules had said, it had been messy but necessary. Günter Rhinehart should have died long ago. Right now, Ash’s priority was Jules. He might have saved Omar’s life, but she had saved Ash’s.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The knife in her hand dripped with blood as she stood over the dead man. Making another downward swipe, the knife plunged deep into his black, rotted heart. She lifted the knife and struck again. The man opened his eyes and grinned up at her, his teeth stained with blood. “You’ll never kill me. I’ll always be with you. You’ll always belong to me. No matter what.”
With a shrill scream, she plunged the knife again and again. He had to die. This time, she would kill him. This time, he wouldn’t escape. Maniacal laughter pierced her eardrums. He wouldn’t die… Why wouldn’t he die?
Jules dropped the knife and covered her ears. The man popped up from the sofa and reached for her. Her heart pounding with horror, she screamed and turned to run. A long, bloody hand reached out and grabbed her. Sharp, jagged nails dug into her skin, each cut scorching like streaks of fire.
Using the only defense she had left, she screamed again.
“Jules. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
She opened her mouth to scream again. Why wouldn’t he die? How many times had she tried and failed? Why couldn’t she kill him?
“Jules.” Hands shook her firmly. “Wake up. Now!”
She jerked awake, her eyes opening to see Ash’s concerned face above her. “What happened?”
“You were having a nightmare.”
She glanced around the bedroom, alarmed that she didn’t recognize her surroundings. “Where are we?”
“A hotel. I convinced Omar we needed to leave. The doctor gave you something that knocked you out.”
