“Still trying to locate her,” Alex replies, and with that the tension starts creeping in. “She must still be in her apartment.”
“Alex,” I say almost whispering, trying not to alert anyone around, “this is exactly the kind of shit I don’t want to hear right now.”
Minutes pass. Then more. 9:40 comes and goes. So does 9:47.
Nothing.
No sign of her, no fucking target.
I clench the paper coffee cup until it crumples in my hand, spilling the liquid on my hand.
“Talk.”
“Still nothing. Go after her.”
Perfect.Fucking perfect.
I stand, brushing invisible dust off my jeans, two seconds away from snapping. “On my way.”
I walk as fast as possible, one hand in my pocket, brushing against the grip of the knife, just in case.
I turn the corner toward the alley behind her building.
And that’s when I feel it.
Click.
Metal at my neck, too cold and too fucking close. I think I found my girl.
“Cute,” I say. “Were you waiting for me?”
Instead of shooting the fucking gun—the only thing that could have potentially prolonged her life—she just stands there, waiting to see my next move. Bad fucking call.
I try to turn around so I can get a better view on the target’s position and that’s when her voice slides against my ear. “Don’t turn around, Victoria. This is payback for the doctor.”
Oh, this just got interesting.
She shoves me hard, the barrel still at my neck, guiding me down the alley until we get to the corner of a building. But shoving me into the wall doesn’t seem enough, because she keeps on pushing until I literally need to turn my head to the left to not smash my nose.
“I know I have enemies,” she says, pressing the muzzle harder against my skin, “but you? You’ve collected more than your fair share, so I’ll do everyone a favor and kill you right here.”
Is this her first time killing someone? “You talk a lot for someone who’s supposed to pull the trigger.”
She scoffs, and that second—that second—should save me.
I spin, slamming my elbow into her arm so I can throw off her grip. She curses, taking a step back, but not fast enough. I launch forward, punching her ribs with my knee and reaching for her wrist, trying to twist the gun from her hand.
But she is faster than I thought. The little fucker ducks and lunges toward me with her full weight. We crash against the wall, and my back meets the brick. That is the moment when she pushes her forearm into my throat, managing to leave me out of breath for a second.
I push her, but she slams her body into my arm, immobilizing it. With one hand useless and caught by the neck, the only choice I have left for now is to grab her gun. I almost get it but?—
Crack.
The barrel connects with the side of my skull, enough to make the world tilt. My vision blurs, and I fall to the ground, trying to stop the ringing in my ears. This time, she doesn’t hesitate. Raising the gun, she points it in my direction.
I am fucked.
I get ready to embrace the impact—maybe her aim is as bad as her monologue—but before I get the chance, another bullet moves through the air and hits her straight in the arm that’s holding the gun.