“I’m a cop,” she had snapped.
“You’re my partner,” he’d snapped back. Satisfied that no bad guys lurked beneath her bed or in her tiny closet, he’d nicely suggested she hire a maid and stated he’d pick her up the following day to go speak with Kellach Dunne. Only then had he sauntered out.
What a fucking day, or rather, night. Lex washed her face and yanked on a tank top and fresh underwear before falling face-first on her unmade bed. Seconds later, she was dreaming about a fire-throwing Irishman near a half-crumbled castle surrounded by rolling hills.
The smash of glass had her rolling over. A man dressed in all black, wearing a ski mask, landed hard on the floor, spreading glass and rain. Thunder echoed outside, and the wind pummeled rain into the room.
A second later, wood splintered, and a second man dodged inside her apartment.
She reached for the gun on her end table, and a hard kick from the first guy sent the gun spiraling into the wall.
Panic heated her lungs, and she shook her head to gain her bearings. Her heart beat rapidly, and adrenaline pricked up the hair on her arms. Focus. She needed to focus.
“Who are you?” she asked, shuffling back to sit against the headboard and drawing up her knees. Fear and intent rushed through her and narrowed the moment to heartbeats. If one of the men attacked, he’d have to lean over to get to her, and she’d take out his nose with a kick.
“Where is it?” the first guy asked, his voice garbled.
About six-four, solid muscle, narrow waist. Black pants and shirt, some type of boots—looked military. She couldn’t get an angle on his facial features behind the thick mask, but his eyes appeared brown. Maybe.
“What?” she asked, eying the other guy at the door. Not as tall but definitely thicker. Slight gut. Brown running shoes, and Beretta in his hands, pointed to the floor.
The first guy, obviously the guy in charge, took out a Glock and pointed it at her face. “Last chance. Where is it?”
She shook her head. If she jumped at him, he’d definitely get off a shot. Her phone lay over on the dresser; she couldn’t get to it in time. “Listen, asshole. Tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll be happy to find it for you. As things stand, I have no fucking clue what you want.”
“He said he gave it to her,” the guy by the door whispered. “It has to be here somewhere.”
The first guy nodded. “Right.” He slipped his gun into the back of his waist. “Let’s take care of the detective here, and we’ll search.” Moving forward, he pressed one knee on the bed.
A gunshot would make too much noise. Made sense. The asshole thought he’d suffocate her.
She pushed back against the wall and tried to whimper.
The lower part of his mask moved as if he smiled. He moved closer.
She kicked up as hard as she could, nailing him under the chin. His head went back, and she landed on top of him, pulling out his gun.
The guy at the door stepped closer, his gun pointing. “Drop it, or I’ll shoot.”
She was dead anyway—at least if he shot, somebody would hear. Whether or not they called the cops in this neighborhood was iffy, however. Keeping her balance on top of the first guy, she pointed the gun at his nose. “You shoot, and I shoot.”
The door slammed open into the first guy, and another body lunged inside, tackling the gunman to the floor.
The guy under her shot out a hand and nailed the gun, sending it flying into the far wall.
Damn it. Lex punched him hard in the nose, satisfied with the loud crunch.
He bellowed and blasted a right cross into her cheek. Pain exploded in her face, and her vision wavered.
Not moving, not gaining any extra leverage, the guy grabbed her waist and threw her over his head.
She crashed through the apartment, her arms flailing, and smashed into the refrigerator. Her right shoulder took most of the impact, and agony ripped down her arm. She landed hard, and glass from the broken window pierced her legs.
Blinking, she used the dented fridge to haul herself to her feet. Shards of glass cut her toes.
The guy by the door went down, and Kellach stood there, fury on his angled face.
The man who’d thrown her stood and faced him. “What the fuck is an enforcer doing here?” he muttered. Fire instantly shot out from him, huge balls of blazing death thrown with a pitcher’s aim. His weapon was hidden by his long coat. Kellach ducked and plowed forward in a hard tackle.
The first man rolled to his side, took in the scene, leapfrogged at Lex, and shoved her into the counter. Pain flared along her back.
She yelled and brought both elbows down on his nape.
He roared and straightened up, lifting her into the air. She struggled, kicking and hitting, trying for a good angle at his still covered nose. He jabbed a needle into her arm and depressed the plunger.
Instant sedation slid through her skin, muscles, and maybe bone. Her head swam.