Targeted Risk (R.I.S.C. #7) - Anna Blakely Page 0,12

been invited.

Halting her shallow breaths, Juliet swallowed back her fear and began to count down in her head. Three...two...

Dressed all in black—including his stocking cap and leather gloves—the masked man exited her room. During the seconds that followed, several things happened all at once.

Juliet yelled at him to freeze. The man started to reach for her. Lydia flew out of her arms, leaping straight toward the intruder’s face.

Growling, the man ripped the cat from his mask and tossed her roughly to the side. Lydia landed on her feet then took off down the stairs in a dead sprint. At the same time, Juliet secured her weapon in her fist and took a step forward.

“Make another move and I will pull this trigger.”

“Go ahead.” Dark eyes stared back into hers. “There are more like me just waiting in the wind.”

What?

Juliet’s heart pounded against her ribs. “Who sent you?”

“You know who.”

“Pretend I’m not that clever.”

The man released a low chuckle. “Payback’s a bitch, little Volkov. And so are you.”

Before she could react, the man’s hand shot out lightning fast. Grabbing her gun, she managed to get off one shot before he ripped it from her grasp.

Splinters flew from where the bullet hit the bannister’s thick railing. A loud ringing filled Juliet’s ears, but she ignored it and kept fighting.

Lunging forward, she kneed the jerk square in the balls then wrapped her fingers around the meaty hand still holding her gun. Remembering what she’d learned, Juliet used her own body’s weight to throw the man off balance. They fell against the bannister, her body twisting together with his in an effort to regain control of the gun.

The gun that just fell through the railings and down the stairs.

Shit!

Assuming the guy brought his own weapon, Juliet wasted no time pushing herself off of him and running for her bedroom. Slamming the door behind her, she locked it as quickly as her trembling fingers would allow and ran for the French doors leading out onto her private rooftop veranda.

On her way, she stopped and grabbed the Glock she kept in her nightstand. Since it didn’t have a safety, she kept that one there so she wouldn’t have to waste even the half-second it would take to disengage before shooting.

Because those were the things one thought about after having grown up with a father who was a leader in organized crime.

Her mother, may she rest in peace, buried her head in the sand. For the first several years of her life, Juliet had, too. At first, it was because she didn’t know any better. Then it was because she didn’t want to know.

Later, during one of her secret visits with her father in Vegas, Juliet had no choice but to see the truth. Kind of hard not to when you witness the brutal abduction of a young, naïve stripper with your father standing idly by giving the orders. She’d never forget the smile the bastard had on his face when it was over.

Her bedroom door shook as the intruder slammed his body against it. Juliet yanked open one of the twin French doors and ran out onto the roof to hide. A total horror film chick move, but at this point, her options were limited.

The gun in her bedroom was the closest weapon from where she’d been. The veranda had a small alcove where she could conceal herself while she tried to regroup.

While she prepared to take a human life.

The sound of wood splintering let her know he’d made it into her room. The thumping of his heavy footsteps told her he was coming for her.

Juliet’s chest physically hurt as her heart did its best to pound itself to freedom. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, knowing her next actions would change her life forever.

“Dumb bitch.” The man laughed. “Where the fuck you think you’re gonna go?”

It’s not where I’m going, asshole. You’re the one about to leave...for good.

With her eyes wide open, Juliet slid her finger to the trigger and waited.

“I know you’re back there, Little Volkov. Figured your daddy would’ve taught you better than to run onto a fucking roof to hide.”

So she hadn’t heard him wrong earlier. He’d used her given name. Her father’s name.

“My daddy taught me a lot of things, asshole,” Juliet hollered back. “Like how to shoot.”

Before she could talk herself out of it, she jumped out from behind the narrow wall, aimed the gun, and pulled the trigger.

The man’s entire body jerked. With help from