Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,92

ears so loudly she could barely hear. She was trembling all over. She’d done plenty of things tonight she hadn’t thought herself capable of. But looking into Tony’s eyes and making a cold, calculated decision was different. Hurting, possibly killing another human being, even a vile criminal, was much harder when done in chilling reality. Without the fight-or-flight instinct thrumming in her veins. Without her immediate survival at stake. Con made this decision every day. Then lived with the consequences. How did he do it?

“Bailey.” Con’s low hail was soft, and deathly quiet. His glowing mahogany gaze caressed her, cherished her, his most treasured possession. “It’s okay, baby. I love you for who you are. Always.”

Tears stung her eyes and a lump swelled in her throat. Con was staring into the jaws of death…and telling her that even if she didn’t have the courage to save him, he understood. And loved her anyway.

Bailey blinked back the tears. She’d found her courage hours ago, wrapped in the faith of the man she loved. A man who loved her in return. Unconditionally. Protecting your loved ones wasn’t a burden. It was a privilege.

She sent a silent message to Con. My heart chooses you.

His full lips wobbled for a brief second, and then he pressed them into a firm line. His gaze embraced her. Message received.

She cocked her head at Tony. She only needed the gun at Con’s temple to waver for a moment. “I’ll go with you. But I have three conditions.” On the word three, she flashed a quick glance at Con.

Con’s eyes flickered in recognition. As DiMarco chuckled and again puffed his cigarette, Bailey shifted and brushed her free hand over the front of her sweatshirt. The casual motion looked like she’d merely adjusted her stance. But in reality, she’d signaled Con, telling him where she’d hidden the pistol.

Tony returned his smoldering cigarette to the dish. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

“One.” She did not look at Con, but felt the weight of his intent gaze focused on her. He would do his job. Now, she had to do hers. She watched DiMarco. She wanted, needed his complete attention. “Let the cop go. Alive. We don’t need him, and I don’t relish becoming a raccoon for the FBI bloodhounds.” He wouldn’t even consider it, but that didn’t matter.

“But he loves you,” Tony mocked. “Always.”

“Mom always said it was as easy to love a rich man as a poor one.” Ellen Chambers had preached that sermon. At least once a week. “I guess she was right.” Not. Bailey shrugged. Though she feigned nonchalance, every nerve in her body shrieked and cold sweat dampened her skin.

“Typical broad.” DiMarco snorted at Con. “What’d I tell ya? They never come through in the clinch. She’s throwing you to the wolves for the money, kid. Dying should come as a relief.”

“Two.” Broad? She’d show DiMarco a broad who came through for her man. Bailey swallowed hard and tried to stop shaking. Stay balanced. Hit the target the very first time. If she missed, Con died. “About the money. We leave your crew, and split the take.”

Tony grinned. “Enterprising little hummingbird, aren’t you? That point is negotiable…we’ll discuss it later. What’s your third condition, cupcake?”

Bailey shifted the water gun from her right hand to her left. Her fingers tightened on the grip. Her stomach rolled and nausea rose in her throat.

Con’s heightened state of alertness hummed in the silence, like a live wire connecting him to her. She had the eerie sensation she could read his thoughts and he, hers. As if they were one person, sharing one mind.

Their survival in the next few seconds depended on it.

She knew the power of the weapon she held. The primal, instinctive fear it inspired. A fear that overrode reason. She knew its ability to maim, to kill.

To scar.

She harnessed the dragon and rode it into battle.

“Three.” Before the word completely cleared her mouth, she aimed the water gun at the cigarette and pumped the trigger. Fire exploded from the dish and crackled up Tony’s arm. He screamed and flailed. An instant later, she yanked the pistol from her waistband with her right hand and tossed it to Con.

He caught the weapon on the fly, and barked, “Down!” She hit the floor facedown. Two gunshots roared in fast succession.

Then all hell broke loose.

Tony’s crew tore into the theater, weapons drawn. Con shoved the money cart in front of her, then his body slammed on top of hers, sheltering her.