since Adam was working with the good guys now, capturing over killing was going to win him some points in the TRUST ADAM column.
That, he desperately needed.
He waited where he was, putting his faith in the armored door he’d installed to keep him safe.
The doorknob rattled as the attacker tried to turn it. Locked.
The man reached in through the broken glass and worked the lock. Adam let him. It was better to have the confrontation go down behind closed doors, where his neighbors couldn’t see it happen.
Not that any of them were still awake at this hour. He’d purposely picked a neighborhood filled with elderly inhabitants so that they were less likely to hear anything he did and less likely to stay awake during the hours in which he did his best work.
The door swung open slowly. Adam moved to allow it.
The man led with his gun. Before his head could clear the door, Adam grabbed the man’s gun and broke his wrist with one hard twist.
The gunman let out a gurgled cry of pain and rage as he charged. He knew exactly where Adam was now, and wasted no time in attacking with his good hand.
Adam dodged the blow. He didn’t even realize that there was a combat knife in the man’s grip until it went sailing past his eyes with only an inch to spare.
Usually, a cold, calm logic took over Adam at this point. He would analyze options, assess his enemy’s skills, and plan his attack, all in the blink of an eye.
This time, all he could think about was what would happen to Mira if he let this man win.
In the cold place where his logic usually lived, a hot kind of frantic concern blazed to life. It made him faster, stronger. He felt his body reacting more quickly, even as his mind was a distant, hazy thing.
Instincts took over. He closed into close-quarters combat with the man. Within seconds, the knife went flying across the room.
The intruder snarled and reached for a holdout weapon on his ankle. His left hand was slow, unused to the action of drawing the gun. That slight hesitation gave Adam the space he needed.
He drew his silenced weapon, aimed for the man’s knee, and fired.
The gunman crumpled on a cry of pain, but fury was still riding his features. He wasn’t giving up simply because he was shot.
The small revolver cleared the ankle holster. No suppressing that noise. One shot from that loud weapon, and the whole neighborhood was going to be awake, dialing 911.
Adam charged. He kicked the man’s weapon hand, but the gun stayed in his grip. His aim was way off, pointing far too close to the pantry where Mira hid for Adam’s comfort.
He dropped to his knees, pinning the unbroken arm to the floor. As soon as Adam shoved the suppressor on his weapon into the man’s cheek, he went still.
“Who sent you?” asked Adam.
“Where is Dr. S.?” demanded the man.
The question surprised Adam, but he tried to hide it. “Dead. Who sent you?”
The man said nothing, so Adam punched him hardenough to break his nose. A fine mist of blood hit his chest, and the man choked as he tried to keep the blood out of his throat.
“Who sent you?” asked Adam again, his voice calm.
“We know you have Dr. S. Where is he? With his daughter?”
For some reason, even that nameless reference to her pissed off Adam until all he could hear was a buzzing in his ears. This man had no business talking about her. Even thinking about her was too much.
Mira was in Adam’s protection now. Bella had given him a precious chance to prove himself, and that was exactly what he was going to do.
He slammed the butt of his gun into the man’s temple, knocking him unconscious.
Only then could Adam pull in a full breath once more. Whoever this man was, for whatever reason he was here, he could no longer hurt Mira.
If Adam didn’t walk away from him now, his chance to prove himself was going to start with a dead body.
Chapter Eleven
A fter what felt like an hour but was probably more like three minutes, Mira heard a deep voice from
That, he desperately needed.
He waited where he was, putting his faith in the armored door he’d installed to keep him safe.
The doorknob rattled as the attacker tried to turn it. Locked.
The man reached in through the broken glass and worked the lock. Adam let him. It was better to have the confrontation go down behind closed doors, where his neighbors couldn’t see it happen.
Not that any of them were still awake at this hour. He’d purposely picked a neighborhood filled with elderly inhabitants so that they were less likely to hear anything he did and less likely to stay awake during the hours in which he did his best work.
The door swung open slowly. Adam moved to allow it.
The man led with his gun. Before his head could clear the door, Adam grabbed the man’s gun and broke his wrist with one hard twist.
The gunman let out a gurgled cry of pain and rage as he charged. He knew exactly where Adam was now, and wasted no time in attacking with his good hand.
Adam dodged the blow. He didn’t even realize that there was a combat knife in the man’s grip until it went sailing past his eyes with only an inch to spare.
Usually, a cold, calm logic took over Adam at this point. He would analyze options, assess his enemy’s skills, and plan his attack, all in the blink of an eye.
This time, all he could think about was what would happen to Mira if he let this man win.
In the cold place where his logic usually lived, a hot kind of frantic concern blazed to life. It made him faster, stronger. He felt his body reacting more quickly, even as his mind was a distant, hazy thing.
Instincts took over. He closed into close-quarters combat with the man. Within seconds, the knife went flying across the room.
The intruder snarled and reached for a holdout weapon on his ankle. His left hand was slow, unused to the action of drawing the gun. That slight hesitation gave Adam the space he needed.
He drew his silenced weapon, aimed for the man’s knee, and fired.
The gunman crumpled on a cry of pain, but fury was still riding his features. He wasn’t giving up simply because he was shot.
The small revolver cleared the ankle holster. No suppressing that noise. One shot from that loud weapon, and the whole neighborhood was going to be awake, dialing 911.
Adam charged. He kicked the man’s weapon hand, but the gun stayed in his grip. His aim was way off, pointing far too close to the pantry where Mira hid for Adam’s comfort.
He dropped to his knees, pinning the unbroken arm to the floor. As soon as Adam shoved the suppressor on his weapon into the man’s cheek, he went still.
“Who sent you?” asked Adam.
“Where is Dr. S.?” demanded the man.
The question surprised Adam, but he tried to hide it. “Dead. Who sent you?”
The man said nothing, so Adam punched him hardenough to break his nose. A fine mist of blood hit his chest, and the man choked as he tried to keep the blood out of his throat.
“Who sent you?” asked Adam again, his voice calm.
“We know you have Dr. S. Where is he? With his daughter?”
For some reason, even that nameless reference to her pissed off Adam until all he could hear was a buzzing in his ears. This man had no business talking about her. Even thinking about her was too much.
Mira was in Adam’s protection now. Bella had given him a precious chance to prove himself, and that was exactly what he was going to do.
He slammed the butt of his gun into the man’s temple, knocking him unconscious.
Only then could Adam pull in a full breath once more. Whoever this man was, for whatever reason he was here, he could no longer hurt Mira.
If Adam didn’t walk away from him now, his chance to prove himself was going to start with a dead body.
Chapter Eleven
A fter what felt like an hour but was probably more like three minutes, Mira heard a deep voice from
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