Tennessee Takedown. Lena Diaz
other man.
She tightened her fingers around the grip. It was heavier than she’d expected. Her hands dipped beneath the weight. He grabbed her wrists and steadied the gun.
“Like this.” He adjusted her hold, making the gun more balanced. She nodded to let him know she had it this time.
“Only shoot as a last resort,” he whispered again. “To save yourself.”
“All right,” she assured him. But she had no intention of doing nothing if Iceman tried something. If it came down to it, she would shoot, but she didn’t tell Dillon that. He seemed too worried she’d shoot him. It was a bit insulting, really. How hard could it be to aim and pull a trigger from ten feet away?
He moved forward, keeping well clear of the other man’s legs. He suddenly dropped down with his knee in the small of the man’s back. At the same time he twisted the man’s arms up between his shoulder blades.
Iceman let out a low roar of rage. Whatever he’d planned to do was a moot point now. Dillon had immobilized him before he could even move. Ashley was thoroughly impressed.
Dillon snapped the cuff around one of the man’s massive wrists.
A loud boom echoed through the trees. Dillon stiffened and fell to the side, landing hard on the ground with a pained grunt.
A bald-headed man ran out of the woods holding a gun. Iceman jumped up from the ground, the handcuffs dangling from his left wrist.
Ashley aimed at Baldy and squeezed the trigger. The gun boomed and jerked in her hands. She fell back on her butt in the mud. Dang it. She twisted to the side and scrambled to her feet, expecting to feel the bite of Baldy’s bullet any second.
But Baldy didn’t have his gun anymore. Iceman had it. Somehow her shot, instead of hitting the bald man, had hit Iceman in the shoulder. Blood ran down his arm and dripped from his limp fingers. He must have taken the gun from his partner, because he glared at Ashley and started to raise his other hand, the one now holding the gun.
She braced her legs so she wouldn’t fall back this time and squeezed the trigger again and again and again. Both men shouted and dove to the ground. They took off running into the woods.
An arm snaked around her waist and the gun was plucked from her hands.
She jerked against her captor and tried to twist in his arms to get the gun back.
“Stop fighting me.” Dillon’s harsh command sounded near her ear. She hadn’t even seen him get up off the ground.
She blew out a relieved breath and stopped struggling. He let her go and she turned to face him. “I did really good! I scared them both away.”
“You scared all of us the way your bullets were ricocheting around the clearing. I told you not to shoot.”
“You’re welcome,” she grumbled. The least the man could do was be grateful since she’d probably saved his life. Her gaze dipped to his chest and she gasped at the sight of two bullet holes in his shirt. “That man shot you.” She ran her hands over the fabric, feeling the vest beneath. “Did the vest stop the bullets? Did the other guy shoot you, too? Are you okay?” She trailed her fingers to his sides and then down his arms.
He sucked in a breath and plucked her hands off him. “I’m okay.” His eyes widened and he stared past her across the dark clearing. “We can’t catch a break, can we? I hear them. They’re coming back. How much do you want to bet they probably both have guns this time?”
He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the trees behind him.
One of her bare feet came down on a hard rock. She yelped and tugged her hand out of his grasp. “My shoes. I need my shoes. They’re back over—”
The wood exploded on the tree by her right leg and a deafening boom echoed through the clearing.
Ashley took off running, leaving Dillon to chase after her.
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