“Should! I’m older, remember?”
“Yeah, but I need time to wrap my head around that.” He lifted his head, frowned. A few seconds later, he straightened, severing contact. “Something’s wrong.”
Yes, something was. He was no longer concentrating on me. “How do you know?”
“I feel like I’m having a vision. Only, I’m not seeing anything. Just feeling.”
I didn’t ask any more questions. Sensing danger was a specialty of his. Jumping from the stall, I quickly toweled off and dressed. Cole did the same, and we both palmed a weapon. Crossbow for him and a .44 for me. I screwed the silencer on the end.
“Zombies?” I asked.
His violet eyes were grim. “No. Something worse.”
Chapter 20
DROP DEAD GORGEOUS
We abandoned the intimacy of the moment, the agony of wanting, and quietly moved out of the bathroom, letting the water continue to run. I shut the door behind me, though not all the way. The candles in the room still glowed softly, casting muted beams of light. Cole blew out the ones on the dresser and crouched beside it, then motioned for me to settle in beside him.
The grandfather clock adjacent to us struck midnight, bells chiming, and I stiffened. A new day. From this point on, I could not peer into Cole’s eyes without having a vision.
Distraction was dangerous in a situation like this.
Not that I knew what, exactly, was going on.
The room was so hushed, the blood pumping through me so swiftly, my ears rang. No wonder I never heard the door to the bedroom open or the footsteps of the man dressed in black; he eased his way toward the bathroom, stepping into my line of vision. Shock lanced through me.
Benjamin, with a .44 of his own clutched in his hand. Like mine, the weapon had a silencer.
Cole didn’t waste time with conversation. He raised his crossbow and fired off a shot.
The arrow sank into Benjamin’s shoulder, impact pushing him into the bathroom door, which swung open, dragging him inside. He tripped over the weapons we’d left behind, but as he fell, he spun and aimed the gun right at us.
Too bad for him I’d already had his chest in my sights, my finger poised on the trigger. I squeezed.
The gun’s recoil vibrated in my shoulders, the smell of smoke and gunpowder hitting my nose as the assassin ricocheted backward, landing on his back. He tried to sit up, but couldn’t quite manage it. He ended up wilting against the tile, unmoving.
“Careful,” I said as Cole rushed over, his crossbow extended.
As he crouched, intending to roll Benjamin over and tie his hands behind his back, Cole’s legs were kicked out from under him. He launched another arrow as he fell, nailing Benjamin in the chest. But he cracked his head on the tub and was either knocked unconscious or silly, allowing the assassin to lumber into a sitting position—and aim his gun at Cole’s chest.
Instinct. Rage. Panic. I’m not sure what powered me. I squeezed off another shot, hitting Benjamin in the hand, sending the gun flying. His narrowed gaze settled on me. I squeezed the trigger, a death shot this time, but heard only a click.
Out of bullets, when Cole constantly reloaded? Or another faulty gun? What were the odds of that...unless someone was tampering with our stuff? Whatever. No time. I hopped to my feet. Benjamin and I had faced off before. I’d won. I could win again.
Besides, someone in the house had to have heard the thump of falling bodies. He—or she—wouldn’t know where, exactly, the sounds had come from. Or what room Cole and I were in. A search would ensue. Benjamin had time, but not a lot.
“Obviously you escaped your cage,” I said. “Where are Frosty and River?”
He wiped his mouth, smearing the blood trickling from the corners. “Wasn’t hard to palm a key. Then the second they left me alone...” He smiled, all here I am.
“Kill anyone along the way?” I tried for a breezy tone.
“And risk raising an alarm? No. I decided to wait for my prey.”
Me. Clearly.
I didn’t ask why, but he answered anyway. “A month ago, I was hired to bring you in or kill you. You got away, and now there’s a stain on my spotless record. It’s nothing personal, sweetness, but I want that stain wiped away.”
“Good luck with that.”
Despite being arrowed twice, and shot, he was surprisingly steady as he swiped up a couple of daggers and a short sword from the bathroom floor.
He grinned slowly, coldly. “I don’t need luck. I have skill.” Moving so swiftly I had trouble keeping track, he tossed one of the daggers. The blade sliced the underside of my wrist, nicking the vein. My pain receptors acted on autopilot, causing my entire hand to flinch. The already useless gun dropped to the floor.
Advantage—Benjamin.