She wasn’t going to make it running. No way. The bedroom was still a few feet in front of her.
She closed her eyes, and dove for it. She hit the floor and slid over the hardwood floors. She’d just passed through the open doorway when Ty’s body crashed into hers. He’d had the same idea apparently.
Morgan looked him over with wide eyes as he kicked the door closed. She let out a sigh of relief when she didn’t see any blood on him.
He put his hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
Morgan nodded. She wasn’t, of course. She was about as far away from okay as anyone could be. But she wasn’t hurt. Not yet at least.
Ty took her word for it. He jumped up from the floor and rushed over to a chest of drawers against the far wall. He pulled out a large black gun and turned back towards her.
“The closet,” he said, motioning with his free hand.
Morgan crawled along the floor, still clutching her pile of clothes, and scooted back into the far corner. Ty stepped in behind her and put his finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet.
Like she needed the reminder. Even if she had thought it would be a good idea to break into a fit of hysterics, her body wouldn’t obey her. Terror seemed to have frozen all but her most vital parts.
Ty turned around, crouched down, and pulled the door handle until the door was almost closed. A thin slash of light fell against a dark blue jacket hanging in front of her.
Everything went quiet. All Morgan could hear was the sound of her breath rushing in and out and the blood pounding in her ears. Time flew away as she waited for something to happen…anything. Fear threatened to drive her mad.
A floorboard on the other side of the wall she was tucked against groaned.
They were out there. Barinov’s men. Looking for her.
Of course, she knew that they weren’t just going to come fire a storm of bullets through the window and then take off. These men had come with a job to do, and they weren’t going to leave until it was done.
Morgan bit hard into her lip as the bedroom door creaked. She heard a foot fall… and then another. A muffled whisper in a language that she didn’t understand.
Seconds ticked by. One after another.
Morgan’s eyes were fixed on Ty who was steady as a rock in his position in front of the door.
There was another whisper…another flurry of footsteps, retreating this time…
And then a blast ripped through the wood of the closet a foot above her head. Three more followed in quick succession.
Morgan fell over on her side, and pulled her knees in tight. In a million years, she would have never guessed this would be the way that she would go out—cowering naked on a hot guy’s closet floor.
She looked over at Ty. He hadn’t even flinched.
He stayed crouched like a cat, ready to pounce. What was he waiting for? Another volley of shots? Apparently three wasn’t enough to cause concern.
If bullets didn’t scare him, what the hell did?
Suddenly, the shaft of light from the door was blocked. Morgan’s eyes focused on a heavy black boot on the floor. She was too terrified to look up.
The hinges creaked as the door opened an inch.
That, apparently, was what Ty was waiting for.
There was a flash of brilliant light as he fired. The man outside the door immediately crumpled to the ground. Now, instead of boots, all Morgan saw was the small red dot in the center of his crisp white shirt.
Morgan covered her mouth. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like she had the breath to scream.
Shouldn’t there be more blood, she thought.
Of course not.
His heart had to beat for him to bleed, and it already stopped. One well-trained shot from Ty, and the assassin was dead before he hit the floor.
Ty turned his head toward her.
“Stay here,” he said before leaping to his feet and rushing through the closet door.
Morgan nodded even though Ty was long gone. Where did he think she was going to go? By her count there was still at least one other gunman out there. But that didn’t mean that she was just going to curl up in the fetal position and wait for death to come to her.
Well…not anymore, at least.
Morgan forced herself up into a sitting position and looked around in the dim light of the tight space for something to defend herself with. There wasn’t much—a few pairs of shoes, a football, a suitcase. She spotted a wooden baseball bat in the corner.
She scooted over and grabbed it. She held it out in front of her like a club as she rose to her feet. Deep down, she knew the bat wouldn’t do her much good in a gunfight, but what the hell. Better to go out swinging than weeping.
The apartment was quiet again, and Morgan’s fingers started to tremble on the grip tape. She tightened her hold and waited. She kept her eyes focused on the bright slip of sunlight beyond the door and counted her breaths.
One…
Two…
Thr—
The sharp crack of gunfire filled the apartment.