head. “Not until I know who you are and what you want. Raise your hands.”
Eyes flat and tense, he raised his hands to his shoulders, palms facing her. His eyes bounced from the gun to her eyes.
“Why are you here?”
“I told you. I’m looking for your father.”
“Whom do you work for?”
“Black Raven Private Security Contractors. I’m working with the United States Marshals Service. We’re looking for your father. Lower the damn gun.”
“Show me identification,” she said. Hell. She’d made a rookie mistake, because he couldn’t show her I.D. with his hands in the air.
“In the top pocket of my jacket.”
“I’m not falling for that,” she said, knowing she shouldn’t be the one to reach for his identification.
His eyes had moved away from the weapon. He was studying her hands, her stance, and her face. She used both hands to hold the revolver and aim, hoping that he didn’t notice that her hands were shaking. The gun weighed just over fifteen ounces, but it felt heavier than it had in her practice sessions.
“Is this the first time you’ve ever pointed a gun at a person?”
“There’s a first for everything. It will be the first time I kill someone, but keep talking, and I’ll do it. Shut up and get your identification,” Skye said, willing her hands to stop shaking. “And keep your hands slow and steady while you do it.” Oh dear God , she thought. What if he had another gun in a shoulder holster? “D-Don’t reach for your weapon.”
Skye kept her eyes trained on Sebastian. He reached into the front of his jacket with his right hand. She drew a breath, as he pulled out a black leather case and held it out. In the instant that she let go of the revolver with her right hand to reach for the credentials, he moved with a lightning-blur of speed, simultaneously grabbing the weapon out of her hand, swipe-kicking her legs out from under her, and immobilizing her in a full-body bear-hug, from which she had no hope of breaking free. Down was the only direction she could go.
***
When Sebastian swiped at Skye’s knees with his left leg, she’d have fallen, hard, except he caught her on the way down. He fell with her to the floor, cushioned the impact with his body, and rolled over her. Impulsiveness was something Sebastian admired, but impulsiveness mixed with a handgun was just plain stupid.
The fall had stunned the breath from her body and gave him a few seconds where she was still. He took advantage of it by using his body weight to smash her to the floor, as he unloaded her weapon and pushed the rounds and gun out of arm’s reach. She smelled of vanilla and cinnamon, and the soft mounds of her breasts pressing against his chest felt damn near perfect. When her stunned stillness wore off, her wriggling movement made him realize the sooner he got off of her, the better off he’d be.
Fuck.
He should have just used his gun on her. The cold muzzle of his Glock pressed against her forehead would have proven to her that she shouldn’t pull a weapon without planning to use it, especially when she was hesitant and standing in striking distance of a man who could so clearly overpower her. He didn’t point his weapon at anyone, though, unless he intended to use it.
Skye gasped for air beneath him and tried to knee him in the balls, but his knees were on her thighs, and his shins were pressing into hers. He didn’t give her the option of moving her legs. She tried to scratch at his eyes, but his elbows were pressing into her arms, pinning them down, while he covered her mouth with his right hand. He had at least eight inches of height on her and outweighed her by at least seventy pounds. He put every centimeter and most of his extra pounds to good use, thankful that he regarded his body as a weapon and treated it as such, and thankful that he was several months past July, when he had almost checked-out on life. He was leaner than ever, but damn glad that he was back to his fighting
Eyes flat and tense, he raised his hands to his shoulders, palms facing her. His eyes bounced from the gun to her eyes.
“Why are you here?”
“I told you. I’m looking for your father.”
“Whom do you work for?”
“Black Raven Private Security Contractors. I’m working with the United States Marshals Service. We’re looking for your father. Lower the damn gun.”
“Show me identification,” she said. Hell. She’d made a rookie mistake, because he couldn’t show her I.D. with his hands in the air.
“In the top pocket of my jacket.”
“I’m not falling for that,” she said, knowing she shouldn’t be the one to reach for his identification.
His eyes had moved away from the weapon. He was studying her hands, her stance, and her face. She used both hands to hold the revolver and aim, hoping that he didn’t notice that her hands were shaking. The gun weighed just over fifteen ounces, but it felt heavier than it had in her practice sessions.
“Is this the first time you’ve ever pointed a gun at a person?”
“There’s a first for everything. It will be the first time I kill someone, but keep talking, and I’ll do it. Shut up and get your identification,” Skye said, willing her hands to stop shaking. “And keep your hands slow and steady while you do it.” Oh dear God , she thought. What if he had another gun in a shoulder holster? “D-Don’t reach for your weapon.”
Skye kept her eyes trained on Sebastian. He reached into the front of his jacket with his right hand. She drew a breath, as he pulled out a black leather case and held it out. In the instant that she let go of the revolver with her right hand to reach for the credentials, he moved with a lightning-blur of speed, simultaneously grabbing the weapon out of her hand, swipe-kicking her legs out from under her, and immobilizing her in a full-body bear-hug, from which she had no hope of breaking free. Down was the only direction she could go.
***
When Sebastian swiped at Skye’s knees with his left leg, she’d have fallen, hard, except he caught her on the way down. He fell with her to the floor, cushioned the impact with his body, and rolled over her. Impulsiveness was something Sebastian admired, but impulsiveness mixed with a handgun was just plain stupid.
The fall had stunned the breath from her body and gave him a few seconds where she was still. He took advantage of it by using his body weight to smash her to the floor, as he unloaded her weapon and pushed the rounds and gun out of arm’s reach. She smelled of vanilla and cinnamon, and the soft mounds of her breasts pressing against his chest felt damn near perfect. When her stunned stillness wore off, her wriggling movement made him realize the sooner he got off of her, the better off he’d be.
Fuck.
He should have just used his gun on her. The cold muzzle of his Glock pressed against her forehead would have proven to her that she shouldn’t pull a weapon without planning to use it, especially when she was hesitant and standing in striking distance of a man who could so clearly overpower her. He didn’t point his weapon at anyone, though, unless he intended to use it.
Skye gasped for air beneath him and tried to knee him in the balls, but his knees were on her thighs, and his shins were pressing into hers. He didn’t give her the option of moving her legs. She tried to scratch at his eyes, but his elbows were pressing into her arms, pinning them down, while he covered her mouth with his right hand. He had at least eight inches of height on her and outweighed her by at least seventy pounds. He put every centimeter and most of his extra pounds to good use, thankful that he regarded his body as a weapon and treated it as such, and thankful that he was several months past July, when he had almost checked-out on life. He was leaner than ever, but damn glad that he was back to his fighting
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