Lena Diaz - Tennessee Takedown

The victor climbed to his feet. Moonlight glinted off the gun in his hand.

Ashley pressed her hand to her throat. Who was lying on the ground? And who was holding the gun? Lightning flashed again, revealing the face of the man who was standing. Ashley’s shoulders slumped with relief.

“I’m Detective Dillon Gray. You’re under arrest,” he gasped between deep breaths. His chest heaved from exertion, but the gun never wavered in his grip. “What’s your name?”

The other man shook his head again, as if trying to get his bearings. He rubbed his jaw and glared up at Dillon while climbing to his feet. He staggered at first and then straightened to his full height, several inches taller than Dillon.

Thunder boomed, startling Ashley, but Dillon didn’t even flinch.

“Your name,” he demanded again, but the other man remained mute.

“Miss Parrish,” Dillon said. “Get behind me. Make a wide berth around this gentleman, please.”

Staying well away from her abductor, she hurried to the other side of the clearing. Iceman’s head swiveled, following her every move, like the sights on a rifle. She thanked God it was too dark for her to see the look in those creepy dead eyes. She stopped beside Dillon, but he shoved her behind him.

“Facedown, on the ground,” he ordered the other man.

Ashley peeked around Dillon’s broad shoulders. Her abductor wasn’t cooperating. Instead of getting down, he braced his feet wide apart.

“Ah, hell,” Dillon said.

Ashley clutched the back of his shirt. “Can’t you just...shoot him?”

“I’d certainly like to, but my boss frowns on shooting unarmed civilians.”

Iceman grinned, his teeth flashing in the moonlight like a wolf baring its fangs.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t,” Dillon warned him. “If you take a single step, I’ll shoot. I’m too exhausted for another boxing round and I’m freezing. Not to mention I have a civilian to protect. I will shoot if you force my hand. Get down on the ground. Now.”

The man’s grin faded. Ashley couldn’t see well enough to identify the expression on his face, but judging by the way his shoulders stiffened, she’d bet he was considering charging the detective. If she had a gun, she wouldn’t wait for the bad guy to make a decision. She’d shoot, right now. This man had already attacked both of them. If he got another chance, she had no doubt he’d do it again.

“Who are you?” Dillon repeated. “Why are you after Miss Parrish?”

“He said he needed me alive,” Ashley said.

Dillon digested that for a moment. “Have you ever fired a gun?”

“Me?” she squeaked.

He sighed. “I guess that’s a no. There’s no safety. All you do is point and squeeze. I want you to point my gun directly at our guest while I handcuff him. If he moves, squeeze the trigger. Can you do that?”

“I’d have no trouble shooting this jerk. He stole my shoes,” she said.

His mouth twitched, as if he was trying not to laugh. “If I didn’t have to keep this gun trained on this fellow I’d cut those laces with my pocketknife. But I don’t want to risk cutting you. Hold your hands up and I’ll untie them.”

She held her clasped hands on his left side while he kept his gun trained on the quiet, deadly stranger with his right hand.

He plucked at the laces, mostly by feel, and soon they were loose enough so she could unclasp her hands.

“I can get it the rest of the way.” She worked the laces free and dropped them to the forest floor. Rubbing her aching wrists, she glared at the man responsible. Her glare was probably wasted since it was so dark, but it made her feel better.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she said.

Dillon kept his gun trained on the other man while he pulled out a set of handcuffs from a holder on his belt.

“Mister, I strongly suggest you cooperate. If you lie still while I put the cuffs on, you won’t get shot. But if you try anything, Miss Parrish seems quite anxious to repay you for her ill use tonight.”

The man hesitated, then got down on his knees and lowered himself to the ground. He lay with his head to the side, watching both of them as he put his arms behind his back.

Dillon cursed softly beneath his breath.

“What’s wrong?” Ashley whispered.

“That was way too easy.”

“You think he’s planning something?”

“I think he plans to fight me again. He’s assuming you won’t shoot.”

“But I will. I promise.”

His mouth twitched again. “Actually, I’d prefer you don’t, since you’ve never fired a gun before,” he whispered. “I don’t want to get shot again. I’m already a walking bruise. We’ll bluff, but don’t shoot unless your own life is in danger. I repeat, do not shoot when I’m anywhere near him.” He handed her the gun, keeping it pointed at the other man.

She tightened her fingers around the grip. It was heavier than she’d expected. Her hands dipped beneath the weight. He grabbed her wrists and steadied the gun.

“Like this.” He adjusted her hold, making the gun more balanced. She nodded to let him know she had it this time.

“Only shoot as a last resort,” he whispered again. “To save yourself.”

“All right,” she assured him. But she had no intention of doing nothing if Iceman tried something. If it came down to it, she would shoot, but she didn’t tell Dillon that. He seemed too worried she’d shoot him. It was a bit insulting, really. How hard could it be to aim and pull a trigger from ten feet away?

He moved forward, keeping well clear of the other man’s legs. He suddenly dropped down with his knee in the small of the man’s back. At the same time he twisted the man’s arms up between his shoulder blades.

Iceman let out a low roar of rage. Whatever he’d planned to do was a moot point now. Dillon had immobilized him before he could even move. Ashley was thoroughly impressed.

Dillon snapped the cuff around one of the man’s massive wrists.

A loud boom echoed through the trees. Dillon stiffened and fell to the side, landing hard on the ground with a pained grunt.

A bald-headed man ran out of the woods holding a gun. Iceman jumped up from the ground, the handcuffs dangling from his left wrist.

Ashley aimed at Baldy and squeezed the trigger. The gun boomed and jerked in her hands. She fell back on her butt in the mud. Dang it. She twisted to the side and scrambled to her feet, expecting to feel the bite of Baldy’s bullet any second.

But Baldy didn’t have his gun anymore. Iceman had it. Somehow her shot, instead of hitting the bald man, had hit Iceman in the shoulder. Blood ran down his arm and dripped from his limp fingers. He must have taken the gun from his partner, because he glared at Ashley and started to raise his other hand, the one now holding the gun.

She braced her legs so she wouldn’t fall back this time and squeezed the trigger again and again and again. Both men shouted and dove to the ground. They took off running into the woods.

An arm snaked around her waist and the gun was plucked from her hands.

She jerked against her captor and tried to twist in his arms to get the gun back.

“Stop fighting me.” Dillon’s harsh command sounded near her ear. She hadn’t even seen him get up off the ground.

She blew out a relieved breath and stopped struggling. He let her go and she turned to face him. “I did really good! I scared them both away.”

“You scared all of us the way your bullets were ricocheting around the clearing. I told you not to shoot.”

“You’re welcome,” she grumbled. The least the man could do was be grateful since she’d probably saved his life. Her gaze dipped to his chest and she gasped at the sight of two bullet holes in his shirt. “That man shot you.” She ran her hands over the fabric, feeling the vest beneath. “Did the vest stop the bullets? Did the other guy shoot you, too? Are you okay?” She trailed her fingers to his sides and then down his arms.