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But her eyes are on me, and as I calculate my odds of kicking the guard behind me in the balls and making it out of here alive, her expression stops me.
I’m not watching. I’m listening.
Trust me.
We do this together.
It takes everything in me to stop fighting.
She reaches for his pants and drags them down to his ankles.
He grabs her hair, yanking her face back up to meet his gaze. “Faster.”
“Since you asked nicely.”
I hear something—the sound of voices in the hall.
Then the room erupts.
Rae’s hands move fast, and Mischa bellows in pain. Blood streams from his thigh, where Raegan’s buried the knife from his pocket.
I wrench out of the surprised guard’s hold, fighting the sickening pain in my shoulder, and lunge across the carpet.
I grab Mischa by the collar and hurl him toward the floor.
Mischa’s head cracks against the side of the coffee table, but it’s the gunfire behind me that splits the room.
I’m already diving to cover the woman kneeling on the floor.
