Ben didn’t say a word. Didn’t so much as twitch. One sign of weakness and Jocelyn could get stabbed or worse.
The man pointed the end of the knife at Ben. “Is she yours?”
There wasn’t a good answer, not one that would help her, so Ben continued to stay quiet.
“Ben.” Her soft voice carried a wobble.
The attacker smiled in a way that promised pain. “Sounds as if the pretty lady knows you.”
When Ben didn’t respond, the man’s mouth flattened and twisted into a look of pure hate. “Gun on the floor now or I will carve her into tiny pieces.”
Her chest heaved and a strangled sound escaped her throat.
Ben watched the light fade from her eyes and knew it was time to act. “Okay, enough.”
His gaze locked on hers. With a subtle bounce, he glanced down at her arm. Then he did it again. The heavy breathing forcing her chest up and down in rapid movements slowed and she frowned. He hoped she got the hint.
“Do it now.” The attacker barked out the order.
Putting his hands in the air, Ben held up his gun. “Let’s stay calm.”
The attacker waved the knife around, getting far too close to her face. “Stop stalling.”
“My arms are going down.” Ben hoped that last attempt delivered the message to Jocelyn.
He had only seconds and a minimal window for error. With his knees bent, he lowered his body and hands toward the floor. The attacker scowled but his focus centered on Ben, right where Ben wanted it.
He set the weapon on the carpet and watched the other man shift his weight. Right when the tension eased, Ben put his palm near his foot, pretending to push up again.
“Now!” he shouted.
In one smooth move, he came up. His second gun slid out of its holder and arced through the air right as Jocelyn smashed an elbow into her attacker’s stomach.
“Humph.” The man bent over. When he came up again, he roared with a sound of fury that bounced off the walls.
Ben’s bullet struck the man’s forehead and cut off the sound.
Jocelyn was tight up against Ben with her arms wrapped around his neck before the other guy hit the floor. Ben looked over her head. The bullet hole and trail of blood told him the attacker was dead. So did the look of horror frozen on his silent face.
Still, Ben didn’t take any chances. Pushing Jocelyn behind him, he stepped over the attacker’s legs and kicked the knife away. After a quick pulse check, Ben’s heart finally stopped thundering.
“Is he dead?” Her voice shook.
When Ben turned around, he saw every one of her muscles quaking. Those eyes were wide enough to swallow her entire face. But she was on her feet and not curled up in the corner. She’d given him the assist without any training or lengthy explanation.
Man, he was impressed. “You did great.”
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
Okay, not his favorite response. “You’re probably entitled to, but I kind of wish you wouldn’t.”