Shit!
I checked to make certain the safety was off.
It was off.
Could I do this?
I sucked in breath through my nose.
I could do this.
But only because I had to.
I moved my finger to the trigger.
I heard the thumping feet. Running. One man, not several.
Pol wouldn’t be running. That wasn’t Pol’s style. He sauntered, he didn’t run. Not unless he was on a state-of-the art treadmill while making drug deals on his Bluetooth.
Then again, he’d been deprived of his favorite toy for three years. He didn’t treat that toy nice, far from it. But it was still his favorite, he’d want it back and he got what he wanted.
Always.
I sucked in another breath, then whispered, “Not tonight.”
A shadow came through the door.
My throat closed and I froze.
I’d planned for this. Damn it, I’d planned. I’d been psyching myself up for this exact moment for years.
Why was he getting closer and I wasn’t pulling the stupid trigger?
“Stop, I’ve got a gun!” I shouted my warning.
He didn’t stop and was almost on me when my finger remembered my plans and squeezed.
I jumped at the loud sound of the gunshot, heard a surprised, pained grunt and the shadow was reeling back.
Oh God.
I’d shot a man. Crap! I’d shot a man!
God, how I hated Pol.
But I saw now that man wasn’t Pol. I knew it because I could feel it and see it. Pol was taller than that staggering shadow, not as bulky.
And he was right behind that shadow when it fell back.
I knew this because I heard his hated but nevertheless deep, attractive voice that I so never wanted to hear again clip, “Jesus, what the f**k?”
I wasn’t prepared for him to be so close.
So I wasn’t prepared when his hand snaked out catching mine that held the gun at the wrist, twisting so hard the pain shot up my arm, shoulder and even my neck, making my ear tingle.
I’d planned. I really had.
But I’d also planned before.