Grey didn’t bat an eyelash as he stared down the barrel twenty feet ahead of him. Surely, Bexley couldn’t be that good of a shot. The man’s hand shook something awful. Perhaps he might get an arm or even a shoulder at this range if he were lucky. There was only a small chance he would get a fatal shot off. Still, there was a chance, and the last thing Kathryn needed was someone else shot and killed in front of her.
“Kathryn, you need to leave,” Grey ordered softly.
“Absolutely not!” she protested.
“Kathryn,” Grey said patiently with a slight tremble. “For once in your life, listen to me.”
For the first time in a long time, he had no desire to die, but if he did die, he could not allow her to witness it.
“No!” Kathryn spat out defiantly, stepping out into the middle of the room between the two adversaries.
Grey blanched of all color as he stared at her, crippled with fear before torrid fury took over.
“Kathryn, what the bloody hell do you think you are doing?”
Kathryn frowned at him as if she was the one who ought to be angry. Then she turned to face Bexley, who looked more than a little annoyed.
The voice of reason piped up from behind Grey.
“Kathryn, you really should not see this,” Nick advised.
“I am not leaving.” Her simple, quiet refusal only seemed to unnerve Bexley, who was still aiming straight at Grey’s heart, the heart Kathryn was standing in front of.
“You don’t want me to waste my bullet on you, now, do you?” Bexley spat out as his hand flexed over the gun anxiously. “Move aside!” Bexley stomped his foot to emphasize his point, and a small explosion rent the air.