“No, I won’t. Open your eyes.”
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. If he’d told her to hop on one foot, she would have.
“Back up, slowly.”
Shanice backed up, slowly.
The intruder edged forward, as well. Without taking his eyes off her, he picked up her phone and powered it off. He dropped it into his pocket.
“Now it’s just you and me, and no chance you’ll be able to call anyone, okay? You’re not going to try anything funny, are you?”
Shanice shook her head.
“Good girl. Now, tell me where that list is.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t—”
“Don’t bullshit me!” he snarled, anger contorting his face into a mask of reddened fury. “You have a list of names and dollar figures. That’s what you said. I need that list. Now.”
He knows I called the FBI office.
“I don’t know what you mean. You have the wrong person.”
“Listen, bitch, I’m being nice, but I’m not going to ask you again.”
The words had hardly left his mouth when Vicente entered the kitchen behind him. No glasses. No tie. Wearing a dress shirt and jeans. She had no idea how a man so large had managed to move so quietly.
Shanice blinked in shock. “Vicente,” she said, without thinking.
The intruder swung toward him, and Vicente hit his wrist sideways, knocking the pistol from his hand. It flew to the floor, sliding across the tile into a corner.
With an animalistic growl, both men charged at each other, and Shanice jumped back.
Vicente was fast, dodging a fist and following quickly with a blow to the man’s neck. He followed that with a powerful fist to the belly.
The man grunted and doubled over, and Vincente grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his face into the top of the island.
Shanice winced and covered her eyes.
He slammed his head again and again. When he was practically limp with blood leaking from his nose, Vicente grabbed his neck and head and twisted. She heard a crack and the man in black collapsed to the floor at his feet.
Her mouth fell open. “Oh my god! Did you kill him?”
“We need to get out of here. There will be others.”
“Others? Do you know him? What are you talking about?”
He looked so different. His eyes seemed darker and more piercing and his jawline firmer. Visually he was the same person, but now he appeared more in control and had an edge.
She backed up some more. “Where did you come from?”
“I’ll explain everything when we—”
A man in black crashed through the French doors. Shanice screamed and turned away from the glass that spewed through the room.
The newcomer, a blond with a buzz cut, lunged for the knife on the island. With amazing agility for a man his size, Vicente swung his body onto the island as the man swiped it up. He slid across the top and slammed his foot into the intruder’s chest, forcing him backward. Vicente followed, knocking his back into the edge of the counter and quickly following up with a series of jabs.
The blond swung the knife, but Vicente blocked the swipe with one meaty forearm while ripping the toaster out of the wall. He smashed it across the intruder’s head, eliciting a groan of pain, but the man didn’t go down. He fought back valiantly, swinging the knife in a wide arc.
But he was outmatched. Vicente was big, strong, and in control. He hopped back from the blade each time his opponent swung and, when he’d evaded the third swipe of the blade, followed up with a swift kick to the other man’s torso that sent him careening onto his back.
The knife clattered to the floor out of reach.
They stared at each other, two warriors contemplating the next move. Then Vicente grabbed the white plate from the island and smashed it on the edge of the counter. He swiped up a piece of porcelain as the man scrambled on his hands and knees for the gun in the corner.
The whole time she’d kept her eyes on them, Shanice edged toward the doorway, stepping over the dead body on the floor. She picked up her phone, which had fallen out of his pocket, and tucked it between her breasts as Vicente jumped on the man’s back and slit his throat with the jagged edge of the plate.
He snatched up the gun and rolled onto his back, gripping the black weapon in both hands. “Duck!” he yelled.
Shanice dropped low as the sound of bullets powered through the kitchen and shattered glass remnants that hung on the door. Vicente fired three shots over her head in quick succession, and Shanice slammed her hands over her ears to reduce the deafening noise.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw another man in black appeared upright, as if suspended by ropes, his eyes lifeless. Blood pooled like a dark cloud on his black shirt before he dropped dead.
Vicente jumped up right away and checked the magazine of the gun. Seeming satisfied, he stuck it in the back waistband of his jeans.
His dark eyes settled on her and he helped her up. “We need to get out of here. You have two minutes to go upstairs and get whatever you can.”
“What’s going on? I don’t understand what’s happening.” She trembled with fear and shock.
“Not now,” he said tersely. “Go upstairs and get your go bag.”
“How do you know—”
He smoothly spun them into the still open pantry as a shot blasted by her ear and shattered another piece of glass dangling on the broken French door.
Holy crap. Someone else had entered the house.
“Stay here,” Vincente commanded in a grim voice.
She didn’t have to be told twice.
He dropped low and darted out of the pantry, slamming the door behind him.
Shots rang out and Shanice backed as far as she could into the small space. Metal shelves pressed into her shoulders, spine, and buttocks as loud bangs filled the air.
It sounded like a war was taking place out there. Shaking uncontrollably, she heard loud whimpers and realized that was her.
“Calm down. Calm down.”
A thump against the door made her jump. Then there was another. Then the only sounds were the grunts of the men as they fought.
With only a sliver of light coming from under the door, Shanice searched the interior for a weapon. She grabbed a can of kidney beans and prayed she’d never have to use it.
Wait a minute, she had her phone. She didn’t doubt that a neighbor had already called the police because of all the gunshots. Hopefully they would be there soon and this nightmare would be over.
She took the phone from between her breasts, freezing when she heard a crash and a loud cry of pain. The sound was so gut-wrenching, her knees gave out and she collapsed into a crouch in the dark space. That wasn’t Vicente, was it?
Eyes squeezed tight, she prayed harder than she’d ever prayed before. If God got her out of this mess, she promised to start going back to church the way she’d been raised. She would turn over a new leaf.
Still gripping the can in one hand, she used the other to press the power button and turn on the phone. As the phone powered on, the door sprang open and her head snapped up. She hoisted the can in the air, ready for battle and whatever her fate might be.
Vicente’s gaze flicked to the can she held. His shirt was torn open to reveal a fitted white T-shirt underneath, and one sleeve of the dress shirt had been torn and hung loosely halfway to his biceps. Blood spatter was on his hand, shirt, and pants.