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My fist lunged forward, still clutching the gun. Before it even got near that too-damn-perfect face of his and had a chance of leaving a nice scar, his hand shot up and closed around my wrist. I might as well have been clapped in irons.
‘Why do you insist on this?’ His voice was fierce, his eyes glinting in the dark. ‘Don’t you think I’ll keep you safe?’
‘That’s not the point!’ I growled, punching his chest with my free hand. It was like punching a rock. He didn’t even flinch. ‘I have to be able to defend myself!’
‘Why?’
‘Why? What sort of question is that?’
‘The kind I would appreciate an answer to.’
‘Because…because I want to be independent! I have to be able to stand on my own two feet!’
‘And what,’ he growled, leaning down towards me, his hard chest pressing deliciously into me, ‘if I don’t want you to stand on your feet?’ His foot shot forward, and in one swift move he had tugged my legs out from under me. I fell back with a yelp and landed in his arms. They held me. Hard. Hot. Close. ‘What if I want you like this?’
‘Too bad! Then you’re out of luck, Sir!’
‘Really?’ He lowered his face until I could feel his breath on my face, caressing my skin. And my heart, the traitorous bloody organ, nearly jumped out of my chest with joy at the proximity! ‘I’m feeling lucky tonight.’
And his lips came crashing down on mine.
I didn’t think about guns again that night - but there definitely were a lot of explosions going off, trust me.
Sneaky Studies
For the next few days, Mr Ambrose kept me much too busy to think of a new plan. He used me as his personal monkey, sending me up jungle trees at regular intervals to check our course and see if we were being followed. But, after a few days, he seemed content that I had given up, and let up on me a little.
Big mistake.
I had thought long and hard about how to achieve my goal, and finally had come up with a
plan that I knew could not fail. I broached the topic one morning while we sat in a circle, consuming our meagre breakfast.
‘Mr Ambrose?’
‘Yes, Mr Linton?’
‘I was thinking…’
‘How unfortunate.’
‘I was thinking that maybe now would be a good time to start teaching me how to shoot. Have you changed your mind?’
That was about as sensible a question as asking a warthog if it planned on becoming a fairy in its future career, and the answer came quickly, as expected.
‘No. Be silent.’
But that was only the first part of my plan. The real fun was just about to start. Ignoring Mr Ambrose, I conjured up a smile on my face and turned to the only other person in the camp.
‘Karim?’
Startled, the bodyguard glanced up at me, the look on his face supremely disdainful with a hint of surprise mixed in, like a vestal virgin propositioned by a common plebeian. (Except for the gigantic beard and sabre, of course.)
‘Yes?’
‘Will you teach me how to shoot?’
Karim raised his chin. ‘I walk on the path of righteousness! Nothing you can say could induce me to teach anything to a creature like you.’
