Erasing Faith(105)

I was ready to end this.

Our gazes locked together, I counted down, hearing Wes’s voice inside my head, rattling off numbers with me. Chasing away the fear.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

I lifted the gun and fired.





Chapter Fifty-Eight: WESTON


BRAVE



Faith’s aim was true.

In my peripherals, I saw her shot tear into the flesh of Benson’s left leg, just above his knee. He fell to the ground screaming like a coward, his lack of field training to withstand pain never more apparent than that moment. Before he or Bordas could even think about returning fire, I was out of my chair, kicking the gun from Benson’s limp hand into the far corner of the room, where it was inaccessible to him. He was so incapacitated by his shattered kneecap, I doubted he’d be able to fire a gun, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

“Bitch!” Bordas cursed, turning to Faith. Lifting his gun in her direction.

There was no choice. Not a single thought or hesitation.

Not when her life was at risk.

He never saw me coming. My hands wrapped around his head from behind and I exerted just enough pressure to snap his neck. I heard the sickening pop as his spine cracked in two, the thin vertebrae there no match for the strength and fury of my grip. He fell to the ground like a rag doll.

I could’ve simply incapacitated him.

I chose not to.

As soon as he’d threatened to kill Faith, he was living on borrowed time. A dead man walking. Maybe it made me a bad person, but I found great satisfaction in knowing Istvan Bordas was no longer walking this earth, posing a threat to the woman I loved.

My eyes flew to Faith, who was huddled against the cabin wall, fear and shock shining clearly in her eyes. I hated seeing it there — knowing I’d been the one to put it there. I’d never wanted her to see me like that.

As a killer.

Even though that’s exactly who I was.

“Red,” I whispered, my voice soft. “I’m sorry you had to see… I never wanted—”

My words broke off when she lifted her gun, hand trembling with the effort, and pointed it at me. I felt something break inside me, as I realized I no longer had her trust… or her love. As I realized that, to her, I was just another one of the bad guys.

“Faith.” The word was hollow, the plea of a broken man.

I closed my eyes when I heard the shot go off, waiting for the burn of the bullet as it tore through me.

It never came.

Instead, I heard a thud and turned to see Benson falling back to the ground, his hand bleeding profusely. The gun he’d grabbed from Bordas’ body fell beside him. I’d been so distracted, I hadn’t even seen him take the gun. If she hadn’t intervened… I’d be dead.

God, I loved that woman.

Leaning down, I collected the gun and shoved it into the back of my jeans. With a disgusted look, I stepped over Benson’s wailing form. Judging by the mangled flesh that was his right hand, he’d never be able to zipper his fly again, let alone fire a gun.

By the time I’d retrieved the handcuffs from my bag and cuffed his uninjured wrist to a table leg, he’d passed out, which was fine by me. His shrieking was getting on my last nerve and it was easier to convince myself to tourniquet his injuries when I didn’t have to listen to his voice.

I wiped my blood-streaked hands on my pant legs before I approached Faith. I moved slowly, my gaze locked on her face. The gun was still wrapped tight in her hands. Hunching, I forced her eyes to meet mine as I slowly tugged it from her grip.

“It’s okay, Red.” My voice was gentle. “It’s over.”

As soon as I took the pistol, she let out a mewl of relief and melted against me. I wrapped my arms around her and held tight.

“He—he was going to hurt you,” she whispered needlessly, panic and shock lacing her tone. “I shot him… I shot him.”

“You saved my life.” My words were fierce, my mouth pressed hard against her hair. “I’d be dead if you hadn’t. And so would a hell of a lot more people, if his scheme for Szekely’s weapon had gone as planned.”

She was trembling, so I tightened my arms around her, crushing her to my chest in an unbreakable hold. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head.

“I have to call this in. The sooner that bastard is locked up, the happier I’ll be,” I growled, casting a glance back at the man who’d been my handler for more than five years. “Will you be okay for a minute, while I call?”

She nodded.

I looked into her eyes and what I saw there worried me — that faraway, distant look told me she was still processing what had happened. I reminded myself she wasn’t used to this kind of violence, that she’d never really been in a situation like this before, except for the Hermes fire.

“Faith Morrissey,” I said, waiting for her to look up and meet my eyes. When she did, I cupped her cheeks in my hands. “You are the bravest person I know. Do you realize that?”

I saw a tiny bit of light return to her eyes and I knew, then, that she’d be okay. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I turned to fish the cellphone out of Benson’s pocket and call Command. It was past time they knew what this prick had been up to.