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The distraction is brief. I turn my attention back to the man that just won’t stay down. As the man launches a final, desperate attack, I see my opening to take him down.
"Stop, or I'll shoot,” Lily shouts.
The two men stop moving. She’s behind me, but judging by the two men suddenly backing away, she’s serious. She’ll shoot. The authority in her voice is unmistakable. Part of me thinks maybe I’m in a dream. How in the world does this happen?
For a moment, everything hangs in the balance, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. But then, slowly, the assailants begin to back away, their hands raised in surrender.
I back up and see Lily out of the corner of my eye. She’s holding a gun aimed at the men. A rather large gun for such a petite woman. She’s holding it like she knows what she’s doing. I certainly don’t want to be the one she was pointing the business end at. I have no idea what I’ve stepped into, but I don’t like it.
“This doesn’t end here Paige,” one of the men says. “Make it easier on yourself and get your ass home.”
At first, I wonder who he is talking to. Then I realize it’s her. She’s Paige.
Man, I’m really stepping in something.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Lily, or Paige, whoever she is, says. “I’ll give you to the count of three. If you’re still standing here, expect to have a few more holes than you were born with.”
I believe her. Little Miss Princess isn’t playing.
“You’re going to regret this,” the man growls.
“One,” she says calmly.
“He’s not going to stop coming after you.”
“Two.” Her voice is firm. I believe her. If I was on the other end of that gun, I’d be driving away in a hurry.
“This isn’t over,” the man says before getting into the SUV.
The man takes one last, menacing look at me and Lily, before peeling out of the parking spot, leaving a trail of exhaust in his wake.
Lily lowers her weapon, her eyes never leaving the SUV until it disappears down the road. Then she takes a shaky breath, putting the safety on and then wipes the back of her hand across her forehead.
"I can't believe you did that," I say, still breathless from the fight.
"I had to.”
I take a deep breath, the rush of adrenaline beginning to subside as the danger passes. She's safe, for now. I can't help but wonder what brought her to this point, and what dangers still lie ahead. Whatever preconceived notions I had about her are shattered in an instant. She's not just some spoiled woman afraid to break a nail—she's a force to be reckoned with.
She gets into the car and tries to shut the door, but I stop her. “Who are you?”
“Let go. I have to go.”
“What is going on?”
“Not your problem,” she snaps.
“Lady, I just risked my life to keep you from being kidnapped.”
She shoots me a dirty look. “Thanks.”
I can't help but laugh incredulously. "Thanks? What the hell was that?" I demand, my voice tinged with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. I rub my jaw, knowing it’s going to be stiff. Her expression is unreadable.
“Thanks for helping me out, but I have to go, excuse me.”
I grab the door to keep her from closing it. “Helping you out?” I repeat. “I think we both know it was a lot more than that. Who are you?”
“I have to go! They’re going to come back!”
