Face of Fury (Zoe Prime #5) - Blake Pierce Page 0,74

skull and her neck.

He was still off-target. She was stunned, reeling from the pain, but not unconscious, not yet. She was still in this fight. Zoe desperately rolled to the side, feeling the impact through the floorboards under her as the club smashed down beside her, narrowly missing her. But now she was against the wall. She looked up. There was nowhere else to go. Ford’s face was twisted into an angry snarl as he raised the club again, and Zoe brought her arms up in front of her face, knowing it wouldn’t help at all, that he would break them and then keep hitting her until she was gone—

And there was some kind of angry shout, a word she couldn’t even make out, a voice that hadn’t been there. A voice she recognized. Still reeling and gasping from the pain in the back of her head, Zoe tried to move, looking up to see Flynn. The rookie was grappling with Ford, pulling the man’s arms behind his back, but Ford was struggling, fighting against him, and both of them were making animalistic noises, grunting and groaning with effort. They were well-matched. Too well-matched.

Zoe could see Flynn’s gun on his belt, uselessly out of the way. For some reason he hadn’t drawn the gun when he entered the house, and now he was wrestling with Ford, unable to spare a hand to go for it. Zoe watched them dully, trying to think. Everything was slow. Why hadn’t he drawn his gun? Now Ford was getting loose, getting his arm free, turning, punching at Flynn’s body with his free hand, the club still caught but getting freer by the moment as Flynn tried to move to defend himself—

Zoe snapped back to clarity. Flynn was in trouble. He needed help. There was only one thing she could do, one way to save him while Ford’s attention was off her. She wasn’t going to lose another partner.

She scrambled across the floor toward her gun, lying at the other side of the hall, against the far wall. Grabbing hold of it, she turned, lying back on the floor with her shoulders against the wall so the recoil wouldn’t throw off her aim while she was weaker. She looked up, saw the calculated line running from the barrel of the gun all the way to Ford. She squinted a little, saw his movements, saw where he would be a fraction of a second from now.

She squeezed the trigger.

The bang of the bullet leaving the chamber was loud enough that a sudden silence followed it, right before the sound of Ford dropping to his knees, letting go of Flynn entirely. He turned around to look at her, wide eyes expressing his shock. He’d thought she was done. He’d underestimated her.

Zoe panted for breath, keeping the gun aimed at him and steady. Flynn, too, seemed to be in shock, watching rather than reacting, waiting to see what would happen. If she needed to shoot again, she would.

Ford looked down at his shoulder, the blood spilling down over his arm as he raised it slightly, testing it. He dropped it immediately, the club hitting the floor. He couldn’t fight with it any longer. Still staring at the wound, he began to laugh, a ragged sound that at first Zoe could not even interpret.

“Look,” Ford said, still breathlessly laughing. “It’s a perfect circle.” He raised his other hand and prodded at the hole the bullet had left with one finger. Zoe could only stare, his reaction so incongruous that it froze her.

Flynn snapped into action, grabbing handcuffs from his belt and stepping forward. Ford did not resist as the rookie pulled his arms behind his back and cuffed him. He didn’t even cry out in pain. He just kept on laughing, laughing, laughing, like he’d told the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Zoe sat on the tailgate of the ambulance, watching the scene. They had insisted on wrapping her in a silver foil blanket, and it rustled every time she moved, so she simply gave up and sat still.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Flynn asked, settling down on the metal beside her.

Zoe nodded mutely. The EMTs had looked her over, doing an on-the-scene assessment. Tested her for concussion, which she did have, but only mildly. They had given her strict instructions about not doing anything strenuous and staying awake, preferably with someone to watch over her. Zoe had agreed blithely, not bothering to tell them that there