“Holy shit.” I blink stupidly at the gun as my head throbs and my ears ring from the noise. Once again, that strange, white calm of shock rolls over me, taking the place of fear and anxiety and confusion.
I lean forward, gasping at the pain in my stomach, the bruising under my vest hurting worse than the gunshot wound in my shoulder. Right now, I can barely even feel it.
I yank myself up, stumbling a little in my silver Louboutin peep-toes.
Gill's there in an instant, his arm curving around my waist, pulling me against him.
I glance up, trying to take in his facial expression, but all I see is darkness, swirling around him like a cloud.
“You're okay, Gilleon,” I say, my voice a little slurry. “We're okay.”
His gaze snaps down to me for an instant before he lifts up his Walther PPQ .22, the same gun he used at the hotel. Is it weird that I recognize it? It is, isn't it? I glance down at the revolver in my own hand and wonder absently why I can't name the brand on this baby.
“Regi, honey, you're in shock,” Gill says, dragging me backwards, pushing me into a corner around the edge of the decorative archway. “Just sit down, ma belle petite fleur. Sit right here and don't move.”
But I don't sit. I don't want to sit.
What am I even doing here?
I stare at my gun again and then glance up in time to see a woman appear from the kitchen. It's Kayla. I raise my weapon to shoot at her, but Gill grabs my arm and forces it down.
“No, she's on our side, baby. Our side.”
Gill steps away from me and takes aim through the archway, pulling off three shots before he moves back again. Kayla joins him, her shy smile gone and a strange, eerie cold taking its place. Ugh. Would not want to get on her bad side.
I stumble against the wall, smearing blood against it as I push back the curtains and look out the window. The yard here is huge, sprawling grounds dotted with perfectly round bushes and trees dripping wet with rain. It's from the corner of my eye that I see someone running, sprinting through the back like their life depends on it. Hell, maybe it does?
I crack the window and sit down, reaching down to yank off my shoes. Gill looks back at me, but only for an instant. He's more concerned with watching both our front and our back, taking turns with Kayla as they keep their guns up and level with the action.
Me, I just reach up and touch my fingers to the wetness on my arm. Redness smears across my skin as I rub the warm red liquid together. Shit, Katriane's never going to believe this one. And Leilani is going to kill me when she finds out about this.
Standing up from my seat isn't easy, not even with the cool moist breeze leaking in the window behind me. What it does do, however, is help to clear my head a little, push back the fog.
“Gill, what do I do?” I ask, unable to keep my voice from wavering. His lips are tight, expression grim as he takes a step back. When he looks at me, I can see how scared he is written into every line of his face. We might get out of this one, he tells me without words. But we won't be so lucky next time. And there will be a next time, won't there? As long as Karl's around, so is all of this shit.
“Just stay here,” he tells me, eyes as dark as the night sky. “Don't move.”
“Gilleon.” This from Max. I can't see her, but her voice sounds just as calm now as it did when she was drinking champagne. “Leave Regina here and go with Karl, please.” Another pause. “That's an order.” Gilleon glances over at me and my heart starts to race inside my chest. “Let's end this, Karl. Take him and go. Leave it at that. Neither us can afford an all out war.”
Silence descends, thick and heavy, cloaking the room and blocking out everything but the sound of my own pulse.
Gilleon and I stare at each other for a moment, lost in each other's eyes. Behind him, Kayla levels her weapon at the back of Gill's head. I bet if he wanted to, he could turn and disarm her, probably break her arm. But then what? Two more people appear in the archway to the kitchen, weapons at their sides, just as normal, as unassuming as the ones I shot in the stairwell.
“Regina,” Gill begins, but I'm already shaking my head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Before I can protest, Gill's sweeping me into his arms, searing my lips with his, diving into me, tasting me like it's his last chance, his only chance. Even with the smells of blood and gunpowder overpowering the room, Gill's scent fills my nostrils, that warm, spicy heat that always gets me. I'm melting into him, molding our bodies together, my mind calming at the feel of him pressed tight against me.
“I love you, Regi. I love you so goddamn much.” I open my mouth to tell him the same when he steps back, suddenly and without warning; a coldness settles over me. I'm not sure exactly what's happening, but I'm smart enough to know that it's bad. Really bad. “Aveline,” Gill begins as he takes another step back and my body starts to tremble.