Holy shit.
The rat bastard just shot at me.
Right. Because I just jumped into the living room where Z was holding a gun on Harp.
“Run!” I shout as I scramble behind a nearby couch.
The front door slams, and I can only pray that means Harper and her son just escaped and all that heroism actually counted for something.
“Who the fuck areyou?” Z shouts, and the man does not sound like he’s in his right mind. “Who sent you?!”
Another shot fires off in the small living room, all my muscles contracting as a puff of couch fluff explodes above my head.
Yup. A plan would have been smarter.
Because I can hear his footsteps crossing the room and I didn’t exactly think up a great escape. I just had to get Harper away from the gun.
Well, mission accomplished.
She’s long gone.
Another shot has me curling into a ball again, but then, fuck?—
I can’t just sit here waiting for this asshole to shoot me. I look around in desperation for something, anything?—
There’s a baseball bat in the corner! If I can crawl around the couch and get to it, then maybe I could?—
“You.” Z sounds murderous, and more disconcerting, far too close.
When I swing my head upward—he’s right there. Leaning over the couch, pointing a gun straight at my forehead.
“I should have fucking known it wasyou.” His voice drips with hatred as his thumb cocks the hammer.
I roll for the baseball bat, even though I know there’s no point.
Z has a clear shot.
I’m about to die.
Another deafening shot rings out, and my eyes squeeze shut, all my muscles tensing in preparation for the pain.
But the screaming isn’t coming from me.
“You shot me!” Z shouts, sounding shocked.
What?
I swing around, only to find Z’s gun dropped on the ground behind the couch. I crawl back and snatch it up, then pop to my feet, glass crunching underfoot.
And there’s Harper standing in the front doorway, holding a small gun in her hand. Where the hell didhergun come from?
But I’m struck too quickly by the implications of her standing there to care.
She came back.
For me.
“Harp, you shot me in the ass!” Z screams, rolling off the couch to the ground, hands jammed to his bleeding butt.