the panel to light up as many floors as I could, and almost lost my balance as the elevator jerked into motion. I dug through my pocket and pulled my pepper spray out, frantically thinking how I could subdue him with it without subduing myself. Pepper spray in enclosed quarters—bad idea. My Sig was tucked into the waistband of my pants, but I couldn’t shoot him. Yet.
Max had just given me the best five minutes of making out I’d ever experienced. Shooting him right now wasn’t an option, especially since there was a chance we’d get to do it again soon. And, yes, that’s a horrible way to think, but my dry spell couldn’t be counted, in days, months, weeks or years…it had officially moved into decade territory. Plus, I kind of liked him when he wasn’t being all murderous.
My gaze shifted to him briefly before going back to focus on the doors. He was still on his knees, panting in shallow breaths. I watched the elevator numbers decrease to the next floor and knew I’d be getting off in the next ten seconds. I fidgeted and stepped forward only to hear the telltale sound of a palm hitting the elevator panel. Max stood, leaning heavily against it.
And when I saw the look on his face, hot make out session or not, I slowly slid the Sig from the back waistband of my pants and rested the gun at my thigh. His eyes flared bright red as he watched me, like a lion hunts the gazelle.
“That won’t stop me,” he said casually, like we were passing acquaintances.
In response to that I depressed the decocker and pulled the hammer back on the gun. He smiled, a brilliant, blinding smile that brought tears to my eyes. If we were in another place, another time, and he smiled that way at me, there would be no hope for my heart. But this time, in an elevator stuck in between the 43 and 44th floors, that smile meant he knew he was probably going to win. There was no way out. I had two choices—use the pepper spray and incapacitate us both, or shoot him.
My heart pounded with fear and indecision. I didn’t want to shoot him. He took a step in my direction, then one more. I raised the gun at his chest level. “Don’t make me do this, Max.”
A flicker of indecision crossed his face. He blinked, the redness gone temporarily. His body shook with effort. “I cannot help it,” he said through clenched teeth.
I took the opportunity of his coherence to step around and behind him and slap my palm on the button again. He stood stock-still, allowing me to do so, and shuddered again. I had maybe seconds before Naomi’s influence took over again. So I did the only thing I could have done to ensure my safety. I raised my hand up as high as it could go and cold-cocked him in the back of the head with my gun.
Max fell like a stone, and I took a deep, shaky breath. That had been way too close.
I watched him for any movement and then leaned down closer to make sure he was breathing, although I knew it would probably take much more than a blow to the back of his head to take him down, especially when Naomi was amping up his natural power. His breath was shallow, but there.
“Good,” I muttered, tucking the gun back into my waistband, and straightened to await the opening of the elevator doors. When the glorious ding of the elevator finally came I exhaled with effort, stepped over Max’s body and almost ran right into Giles, our old family butler.
One silver eyebrow rose as he took in my disheveled state and the unconscious Huntsman at my feet. “Well,” he said dryly, “at least you didn’t shoot anyone this time.”
I heard the elevator doors close behind me as I gave Giles a shaky smile. “He started it,” I said. It was something I always said when I found myself in trouble with him. His good nature had saved me from some spankings when I was little, especially when Mother came around and would want to know why I was scratched and dirty. Usually it involved me getting into a scrape of some sort with a village boy, but
Max had just given me the best five minutes of making out I’d ever experienced. Shooting him right now wasn’t an option, especially since there was a chance we’d get to do it again soon. And, yes, that’s a horrible way to think, but my dry spell couldn’t be counted, in days, months, weeks or years…it had officially moved into decade territory. Plus, I kind of liked him when he wasn’t being all murderous.
My gaze shifted to him briefly before going back to focus on the doors. He was still on his knees, panting in shallow breaths. I watched the elevator numbers decrease to the next floor and knew I’d be getting off in the next ten seconds. I fidgeted and stepped forward only to hear the telltale sound of a palm hitting the elevator panel. Max stood, leaning heavily against it.
And when I saw the look on his face, hot make out session or not, I slowly slid the Sig from the back waistband of my pants and rested the gun at my thigh. His eyes flared bright red as he watched me, like a lion hunts the gazelle.
“That won’t stop me,” he said casually, like we were passing acquaintances.
In response to that I depressed the decocker and pulled the hammer back on the gun. He smiled, a brilliant, blinding smile that brought tears to my eyes. If we were in another place, another time, and he smiled that way at me, there would be no hope for my heart. But this time, in an elevator stuck in between the 43 and 44th floors, that smile meant he knew he was probably going to win. There was no way out. I had two choices—use the pepper spray and incapacitate us both, or shoot him.
My heart pounded with fear and indecision. I didn’t want to shoot him. He took a step in my direction, then one more. I raised the gun at his chest level. “Don’t make me do this, Max.”
A flicker of indecision crossed his face. He blinked, the redness gone temporarily. His body shook with effort. “I cannot help it,” he said through clenched teeth.
I took the opportunity of his coherence to step around and behind him and slap my palm on the button again. He stood stock-still, allowing me to do so, and shuddered again. I had maybe seconds before Naomi’s influence took over again. So I did the only thing I could have done to ensure my safety. I raised my hand up as high as it could go and cold-cocked him in the back of the head with my gun.
Max fell like a stone, and I took a deep, shaky breath. That had been way too close.
I watched him for any movement and then leaned down closer to make sure he was breathing, although I knew it would probably take much more than a blow to the back of his head to take him down, especially when Naomi was amping up his natural power. His breath was shallow, but there.
“Good,” I muttered, tucking the gun back into my waistband, and straightened to await the opening of the elevator doors. When the glorious ding of the elevator finally came I exhaled with effort, stepped over Max’s body and almost ran right into Giles, our old family butler.
One silver eyebrow rose as he took in my disheveled state and the unconscious Huntsman at my feet. “Well,” he said dryly, “at least you didn’t shoot anyone this time.”
I heard the elevator doors close behind me as I gave Giles a shaky smile. “He started it,” I said. It was something I always said when I found myself in trouble with him. His good nature had saved me from some spankings when I was little, especially when Mother came around and would want to know why I was scratched and dirty. Usually it involved me getting into a scrape of some sort with a village boy, but
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