Page 92 of Single Malt Drama

“He could have the place surrounded.” We didn’t have time to argue. Sooner, rather than later, my brother would come in and drag us out.

“It’s too dark back there.”

For once, I was glad he’d refused to turn on the floodlights for fear of attracting bugs. I stared from Marco to the gun. “Give that to me. You get help.”

“No freaking way.” He kissed me quickly and crawled toward the front windows. “Go.”

“Not without you.”

Marco glared, and I glared right back.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

Giancarlo continued to shout from the front of the house. “You have two minutes, Nico. Two minutes to come outside, or we’re coming in.”

We made our way to the bathroom.

Marco peeked out the window and scowled. “I can’t see anything down there.”

“That’s probably a good sign. They’d have flashlights, right?”

“Maybe.” He slowly unrolled the rope ladder. “You first.”

Uh uh. No way. “So you can turn around and create a distraction?”

“Is this really the time to start bickering?” He arched a brow.

I folded my arms.

“It’s a good thing I love you, because you’re starting to piss me off.” He kissed my cheek before handing me the gun and climbing out the window.

I stood and squinted into the darkness. If anyone, or anything, rushed him, I’d have no qualms about shooting first and identifying the body later. If I was pregnant, I had no intention of raising the child alone.

I waited until the ladder stopped moving, ejected the magazine and stuffed it one pocket before stringing my belt through the trigger guard. The last thing I wanted to do was accidentally shoot myself, my possible unborn child, or my husband.

My hands were so sweaty, I slipped a couple of times on the way down the ladder. When I reached the ground, Marco pulled me toward the path leading to Cyril’s.

When we were a safe distance away from the cabin, I stopped and whispered, “Wait. Let me reload the gun.”

“Why is it unloaded?” He crouched and tugged me down with him.

I gave him a hard look.

He sighed. “Just hurry.”

I’d managed to get the magazine back into the pistol when a flashlight beam blinded me.

“I found them!” a man I didn’t recognize called over his shoulder. He had his hand on his gun, but mine was in my palm. I had the advantage.

More shouting came from inside the cabin. Giancarlo must have made good on his word and gone inside to get me.

I raised the pistol. “Put your hands up.”

The guy laughed.

I fired a shot close enough to his head that the bullet would disturb his hair.

His hands went into the air.