Forbidden Fantasies Bundle(212)

“All right,” Boone said, in the voice he used to calm her down. “Just cool it. I’m putting down the gun.”

How could this bastard tell that Boone had a gun? Night vision, like in the cameras. Shit, he could see them, but they couldn’t see him. And how had he gotten in?

“Slowly,” the bastard said. “Try anything tricky and I’ll kill you.”

“All right.”

Christie heard a thump as Boone’s gun hit the carpet. Now that she’d heard the voice a second time, there was something familiar about it, but she couldn’t connect it to anyone she knew.

“Now get up. Both of you.”

Boone squeezed her hand quickly, then started to rise to his knees. She knew the bastard meant business, but she couldn’t move. If she kept breathing like she was, she was going to hyperventilate again, and God knows what he’d do to Boone. She longed for her baseball bat, but she had no idea where that was. The gun in her waistband should have been a comfort but she couldn’t figure out how to get it out and aim and shoot when she couldn’t even see him.

“You, too, Christie. On your feet.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, ashamed at how her voice trembled.

“Just get up.”

She tried to move—honestly, she did—but her legs were stiff and the pressure on her chest was too heavy. Bracing herself on the mattress, she pushed herself up and then she remembered the flashlight.

How could she get it when her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her toes? She wanted to be brave, to save the day, to be Sigourney Weaver facing the alien. But she couldn’t even get her hand to move to the side of the mattress.

It was right there.

“You want me to shoot him? Is that what you want, Christie?”

“No,” she said. “I’m just scared, okay? So it’s hard.”

“Scared? You don’t know scared.”

Boone got to his feet, keeping his hands in the air. “I’m going to help her, okay? One hand down.”

“No. She can do it herself.”

It sounded as if he were closer. He’d moved a couple of feet, she thought. More in the living room than in the hall. She took a deep breath, and as she let it out, she moved her left hand those few inches beside the mattress. Her fingers touched the cold metal of the flashlight, and she gripped it so tightly she could feel the switch dig into her skin.

“You,” the bastard said. “Move away. Get off the mattress.”

“Sure,” Boone said. “Whatever you say.”

The bastard laughed. “You think that’s going to work on me? You moron. I’ve seen it all. Everything. You think you found all the cameras?”

“No, I’m sure we didn’t.”

“Just shut up. I don’t want to hear another word from you. Christie, stop stalling. Do it.”

Boone was now farther away from her, but she could at least see him in the hazy light coming through her curtains. It was more difficult to see where the bastard was, as the hallway was so far from the window. There was nothing to do but try. It would have to be quick and sure, and she was neither.

But Boone was counting on her. There was no doubt in her mind that the bastard would shoot to kill.

She pulled her legs under her, balanced on her right hand. The flashlight was under the edge of the blanket, so she knew the bastard couldn’t see it.

“What do you want from her?” Boone asked.

“What did I say? Did I tell you to shut up?” The bastard’s voice had risen to a shout.

“What did she do to you?”

“Boone,” she said, “shut up.”

“I just—”

“Shut up,” she said, louder this time. Everything would be over if the bastard turned away. She had to keep him looking at her, watching her. “I know what he wants. And I’m going to give it to him.”

The bastard laughed, and the sound made her sick to her stomach. It was as if all his twisted desires were right there in that low laugh.

She held her breath as she got to her feet, holding the flashlight by her side, making sure her finger was on the switch. “Tell me what you want,” she said, needing his voice to get her bearings. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

“I know you will. You’ll do every single—”

She turned on the switch at the same time she pointed the light straight at his voice.

He yelped, and then she heard a crash. Boone was on him, and they were both on the floor, the bastard’s gun glinting in the beam.

“Your gun,” Boone screamed, and then he took a blow that knocked him to the side.

She ripped at her T-shirt and got the Glock. She was holding the flashlight and she didn’t want to drop it, but she’d never fired the gun with one hand.