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“They’re on their own. I don’t get paid enough to save their asses.”
Charming.
Dimitri motioned for her to speed up, using the gun he held in his right hand. “Hurry,” he ordered.
Was he an idiot? She scowled over her shoulder at him. No way was she hurrying to get to whatever Reynard had planned for her. Dimitri bugged his eyes at her, as though to remind her of what he’d told her. Like she’d forget. He’d told her to follow the scary guy and he’d come up with a plan to save her—later. That did not instil confidence. She wasn’t even sure what side the guy was on. Dimitri had his own agenda, and Megan figured she’d become dispensable if she got in the way of it. So, no. She wasn’t going to wait around for him to rescue her. What was this, the eighteen hundreds? Did she look like she was wearing a corset and would faint at the first sign of trouble? No. She didn’t need to be rescued by some man.
She was going to rescue herself.
She looked down at Dimitri’s hand as it held the gun loosely at his side. It was the only type of gun she recognised—a Beretta M9. She’d been given a lecture on it from Grunt one night when they were watching an action movie and she’d called it a toy gun. Grunt had retrieved his Beretta and talked her through how it worked, all to make the point that no gun was a toy. At the time she’d thought he was being anal; now she thought he deserved a thank-you hamper, because Dimitri was holding the only gun on the planet she knew how to use. Now all she needed to do was come up with a plan to get her hands on it. She looked at the gun. Then at the scary guy in front of her. Then back to the gun.
Oh, to hell with having a plan.
She never did have the patience for planning anyway. Without a second thought, she grabbed Dimitri’s hand, and gun, pointed it at Reynard, flicked the safety off with her thumb and squeezed the trigger.
“What the—” Dimitri started.
Before he could say, or do, anything else, she turned and kneed him in the balls. He howled and bent double, leaving Megan time to turn to Reynard. He was out cold, face down in the snow. She grabbed his gun—some sort of automatic thing she didn’t recognise. She swung around and pointed it at Dimitri’s head, hoping she didn’t have to shoot, because she wasn’t even sure her finger was on the trigger.
“Drop the gun.” Then she kicked him in the balls again for good measure.
His gun fell to the snow, followed closely by the man, who writhed in agony.
Serves him right.
The guy had been nothing but trouble since she’d captured him. Megan tore her eyes from the groaning Dimitri and looked down at the overly complicated gun in her hand. She wasn’t quite sure how it worked, so she tossed it over to the trees and picked up Dimitri’s discarded handgun. Much better. Point and shoot. She could do that.
“You gonna leave anything for me?” a voice said.
Megan reacted before she realised it was her brother-in-law. She had to lower her gun to let him walk forward.
He looked down at the two men and grinned. “I came to rescue you.”
“Thanks?”
; Grunt crouched beside the scary unconscious guy as the weight of the situation began to sink in. She’d shot someone. Had she killed him? Her hands began to shake, and she worked to hide her reaction from Grunt. She didn’t want to tarnish her newly acquired street cred.
“Is he dead?” At least her voice was steady.
Grunt looked positively delighted. “No. You shot him in the ass. I think he passed out from the shock of it.” He pointed at Dimitri, who had turned green and was muttering something about never having children. “Why didn’t you shoot him?”
Megan shrugged, although inside she wanted to weep with relief. No dead bodies. Yay for her. “I’m not sure what side he’s on.”
“I would rather have been shot,” Dimitri wailed.
Lake and Matt appeared out of the darkness. Megan let her older brother pull her into a tight hug.
“Good job, Grunt,” Lake said.
“Hey!” Megan complained into Matt’s chest.
“Wasn’t me,” Grunt said. “By the time I turned up, she’d sorted them out.”
Lake and Matt gaped at her.
“What?” She was seriously offended by their disbelief. “I have skills.”
