Читать книгу Guns and the Girl Next Door - ХеленКей Даймон, HelenKay Dimon - Страница 12

In the past hour he’d shot a man through the forehead and crawled through a tunnel. Only one of those things made Holden want to throw up. The fact that the small space scared him more than the killing made his stomach churn and heave even more.

Four years out of the military—away from the night that haunted him, breaking into his sleep at least once a week—and tight spaces still dropped him to his knees. And this time he had a witness.

No one, not even his fellow Recovery agents, knew about his private fears. Now Mia did. That fact ticked him off. It was the sort of weapon he didn’t hand anyone.

They walked down the hall of the nondescript condo building, his anger festering with every step. A part of him knew picking her out as the target of his rage and frustration was irrational. The other part of him didn’t care.

She broke into his sanctuary and dragged him out of it. Because of her, he lost his house and everything in it. He wasn’t one to collect stuff. He learned the hard way to travel light, but whenever he’d left before the choice had been his. This time, he got his butt kicked out by a hot blonde and a raging fire. He didn’t know which of these he liked less. The mix of the two sure as heck wasn’t his favorite.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

He stopped in front of Rod’s door and rang the bell. “No.”

“There are therapies—”

Holden’s hand hesitated over the doorknob. “Don’t.”

“They could help.”

He faced her. “I’m sure you know what ‘don’t’ means.”

“Are you always this testy?”

Something about her getting angry sucked the fight right out of him. He hoped he hadn’t gotten to the point where bossy women turned him on. If so, he might try that therapy after all.

“Being chased and shot at does that to me,” he said. “Yeah.”

“That’s not what I was talking about.”

He knew that. Knew it and ignored it. The claustrophobia was not up for discussion. Ever.

When the doorknob twisting and knocking didn’t work, Holden dug the key chain out of his pocket. “We’ll do it this way.”

She glanced down both ends of the hall. “Is this your place?”

“Belongs to my boss.”

“I thought you were unemployed.”

“Former boss, then.”

“I get the sneaky suspicion there’s a part of this story I’m missing.”

“That’s what I like about smart women.”

“What?” she asked.

“Almost everything, actually.” She snorted and he almost joined her. “For the record, it surprises me, too.”

He pushed the door open and motioned for her to stay back while he walked inside. A quick look around told Holden what he needed to know. Rod wasn’t there. He would have greeted them with a gun if he had been.

No one came into Rod Lehman’s place without an invitation. It didn’t matter that all of the Recovery agents had keys to each other’s places or that Holden called first. Rod was a “threaten first, ask questions later” kind of guy.

“Your friend is very…neat,” she said as she touched the perfectly straight stack of magazines.

Holden knew better. Rod set up the place whenever he left. Everything in its place so that he’d know if anyone came in while he was gone. Then there was the fact this wasn’t Rod’s true home.

Like Holden, Rod lived outside D.C. Rod’s choice was a farm in a tiny town in Maryland, near the West Virginia border. Here in the city he had a one-bedroom with beige walls and minimal furniture in a drab shade of brown. It was small enough to see every corner no matter where you stood. There he had two acres and a security system that rivaled the one at NORAD.

Holden headed for the kitchen lining the far left wall. He opened the refrigerator and saw barren shelves that went beyond a bachelor’s stark existence.

“Hungry?” she asked in a voice filled with sarcasm.

“Just checking.” Holden took a quick look around. Despite the empty place, something felt off. The muscle at the base of his neck began to throb. That was never a good sign. “Stay here.”

She saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

He stopped right in front of her. “Is that your way of saying I’m demanding?”

She moved her finger and thumb almost together. “Little bit.”

Being this close to her, he noticed the cuts on her face and the smudge of mud on her cheek. Under all that dirt lurked a stunning woman. Big eyes and a sassy mouth. It was a killer combination that kicked his lust into high gear.

“You do understand that you came driving into my family room, right?”

“I’m sorry about that.” She had the decency to wince.

“You’re sorry?”

The brief window of guilt zapped closed. Her mouth curled down in a frown. “I can barely stand, my skull feels like it’s about to break open and I’m pretty sure I have someone else’s blood in my hair.”

He fought back a smile. “And?”

“Then there’s the part where someone is trying to kill me and I have no idea why. So, I’m sorry if you find me unpleasant or ungrateful, but I just don’t have it in me at the moment to care.”

Spunk. He didn’t want to, but he liked it. “Fair enough.”

She was the first one to look away. She waved him toward the room on the other side of the condo. “Check the bedroom. I’m going to wash my hands.”

“The sink is right there.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I can still see.”

“And talk. You haven’t lost that skill either.”

She ran her hand under the water, letting the warmth run through her. Grabbing for a towel, she went in search of an aspirin to stop her head from exploding. She pulled open the thin door next to the refrigerator thinking to find a pantry.

A man stood there, all curled up and impossibly tight in the small space. More than his position, she noticed the knife in his hand. The blade had to be five inches long.

The stranger pressed a finger to his lips. “Quiet.”

No freaking way.

She turned to run, thinking to put as much space between her and the sharp edge as possible and it gave her a few extra seconds to scream for Holden. For anyone with a gun within screaming range, actually.

Holden emerged from the bedroom at a sprint right as their mystery guest hooked his elbow around her throat. The edge of the knife pricked her neck.

She flinched at the contact and got nipped again. To keep the weapon as far away as possible, she grabbed on to the arm of her attacker and pushed.

Holden’s gaze flicked to the trickle of blood she could feel running down her neck and back to the man behind her. “Let’s calm down here,” Holden said.

“I’m in charge.” The attacker’s hot creepy breath skipped across her skin.

Fear replaced her headache. Her insides trembled as her knees lost their strength. She thought about elbowing the guy in the stomach or dropping to the floor and out of his reach—doing anything before she lost the ability to fight—but something in Holden’s cold stare told her to stay put.

“There’s no reason to hurt her,” he said.

The guy’s grip tightened on her throat. “Where is it?”

Confusion flashed across Holden’s face but he quickly controlled it. “Tell me what you want. I’m sure we can work this out.”

She knew Holden had a gun behind his back. She guessed he had other weapons, too. He seemed like the kind of guy who was prepared for an attack. At least she hoped that was true.

“Give it to me.” The attacker waved the knife in front of her face.

“What is it?” Holden’s gaze made a quick tour of the room.

She doubted her attacker even saw the move. He was too busy spitting in her hair while he choked the life out of her.

“Don’t play dumb,” the man said, pulling on her neck until the bones crunched.

Holden nodded as his feet shuffled slightly. “You’re right. I have it. It’s in my car.”

What? She stared at Holden, trying to figure out if he was playing along or risking her life. She wasn’t thrilled with either option because she feared they both ended up the same—with her bleeding to death on the floor.