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I wrench myself out of her grasp. “I don’t fucking want tea! You people are all insane!”
I race up the stairs, past my personal security detail, and into my room. I lock the door behind me and shove a chair under the knob in case anyone decides they’re going to follow.
I take the gun out from under the mattress and the magazine. I count eight bullets. I know enough from TV to know you have to rack the slide to make the gun ready to fire and think it’s probably best if I don’t do that quite yet. I slam the magazine in and conceal the gun in the waistband of my pants and pull my shirt over it. I take a few steadying breaths, remove the chair from under the door, unlock it, and step out into the hallway.
“Mrs. Stryker, is everything okay?” Luca, one of my door goons asks.
I don’t think he’s asking because he’s concerned about me. He’s asking to see if I’m done “making a scene”. He’s trying to gauge and assess the situation and if I’m going to have some sort of hysterical meltdown—if they’ll need to restrain me somehow.
I take a deep breath and smile stiffly. “I think I’m going to take Cora up on that cup of tea,” I say.
The guard nods warily. I walk down the hallway like I’ve got all the time in the world. I descend the stairs into the main entryway, taking in my surroundings. Cora has gone back to the kitchen. There are five armed guards in this room. Two by the double doors that lead outside, and another three scattered around at doors that go into other parts of the house.
One of the guards is about twenty feet from me and isn’t paying attention. I pull the gun out and aim it at him.
“Take me to my father.”
He just looks at me, as do all the other guards in the room. They all pull their guns out and aim in my direction.
I glance around the room at the drawn weapons. I should be scared, but I’m not. “What exactly do you think Aidan will do if one of you shoots me? You may as well put your guns away because he’ll kill you if you hurt me. And I’m sure you know more about him than I do, but from what I do know, I’m pretty sure he’ll kill you slowly.”
“Mr. Stryker said…” one of them begins.
“It doesn’t matter what Mr. Stryker said. He’s not here right now, and I said put your goddamned guns away or I’ll shoot this guy.”
The guard standing closest to the one I’m aiming the gun at says, “You won’t get very far with the safety on.”
“Ciccio?!?”
“What? This little girl isn’t a killer. She doesn’t have the stomach for it.”
I take the safety off, remember to rack the slide, and shoot the guard twice in the head.
He falls, and I fight the urge to vomit. My brain is screaming I killed a person. I killed a person. I killed a person! But I can’t let Aidan kill my dad. I have to hold it together and get out of here. Also I’m beyond enraged that after I’ve been treated like cargo for the better part of the last four months, they think I’m some “little girl” who can’t and won’t fight back.
I point the gun at the next guard closest to me. “I’m pretty sure I told you all to holster your fucking weapons!”
Four pairs of wide eyes are locked on mine as they all put their guns away.
I take a deep breath. “Okay, am I killing more of you or what? Who is taking me to my dad?”
My security detail races down the stairs, their guns drawn. “Drop the guns,” I say, aiming at them. I’m not actually sure if them dropping the guns is wise. Will they go off? But the stairs are carpeted, and taking a cue from the other guards, they drop them and slowly descend the stairs, their hands in the air. This pair are at least smarter than the other guys, maybe because a gun actually went off and someone is dead now.
I point to one of my goons. “You. You’re taking me to my dad.”
“I… I can’t do that,” Nino says.
I shoot him in the foot then aim at Luca. “How about you?”
“Y-yes, Ma’am.”
“Great. I saw some zip ties in my husband’s study. I need you to zip tie everybody else’s wrists and ankles so they don’t follow us.”
I spot Cora lurking in the doorway, and I’m not sure whose side she’s on so when the guard comes back with the zip ties, I get him to secure her as well.
“I’m very sorry, Cora. I just don’t know if I can trust you.” I really am. I feel terrible about tying a nice old lady up like a criminal, but she’s known Aidan his whole life. If I’m willing to kill to protect my father, I don’t know what she’s willing to do for Aidan.
Claude has retired to his cottage for the night, and I’m glad he doesn’t have to see this.