Agent 13

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Chapter 9

THIRTEEN

I barely have the chance to duck before he fires the gun. I jump to the side so I’m ducked behind one of the couches, just as the bullet embeds itself it the wall I was previously standing in front of.

I’m grabbed from behind before I can do anything more, and the gun in my hands is knocked from my grasp. I throw my head back into the person holding me, and he curses, releasing me as his hands fly up to his nose. Another gun comes at me and I pull a knife from my boot holding it firmly in my hand. I gesture for the guy to come at me. He lunges and I dodge to the side, swinging the knife out as I do so, it cuts into his side.

There’s a gunshot and pain suddenly flares up across my side. I take a quick second to look at the wound. Just a graze, not a big deal. Yet another guy comes at me and this one has a knife of his own. He swings out at me and I dodge. He swings again and I dodge yet again. This seems to continue on for a while before I finally get the opportunity to drive my knife into his chest.

Lucas is suddenly right in front of me. His knee comes up into my stomach causing me to double other, and then he brings his knee up again, only this time it connects with the side of my head. I fall backward and land on my back, my head pounding. Before I can get back to my feet both my arms are grabbed and restrained by two guys. They force me to my knees and each one holds one of my arms, outstretched from each other.

Lucas glares at me and holds the gun up to my head. The barrel pressing into my forehead. Before I can do anything or he has the chance to fire, the door to the hotel room is thrown open.

I resist the urge to scream in frustration as none other than Jackson Storm comes walking into the room.

He looks around the room, a look of utter confusion plastered across his face. He turns himself in circles a few times, taking everything in.

“Well,” He says finally. “This most certainly isn’t my room,” He scratches at his head and looks down at the keycard. “I apologize gentlemen. Lady,” He says to us, his gaze lingering on me for a moment. “It seems the desk clerk got my room number confused.”

He turns as if he has every intention of leaving, only to widen his eyes as if he just now noticed the gun pointed at my head.

“Oh . . . OH. Well, clearly I’ve interrupted some very, er, important . . . business. So, if it’s alright with you gentlemen, I’ll just be on my way now.”

One of the guys clamps a hand down on Jackson’s shoulder. Jackson winces under the pressure. “You’re not going anywhere,” The guy says.

Jackson then starts dramatically flailing around as two of the guys start dragging him back away from the door.

“No! No! I won’t go! Please good sir, I didn’t see anything! NOOOOOOO!” He screams as they continue to drag him.

I bite my tongue to keep from yelling at him to shut up.

They deposit him in front of Lucas, and Jackson wastes no time in getting on his knees and clasping his hands together. He shakes his clasped hands vigorously at Lucas. “Please sir, I swear I won’t tell a soul. I didn’t even see anything!” He unclasps his hands only to fist them into Lucas’ suit jacket.

I have to bite my lip from saying anything as Jackson actually starts letting out a few tears, his eyes wide with terror. He buries his face into Lucas’ jacket, still holding it tightly, and Lucas is unable to move away. He’s finally able to shove Jackson into the floor.

Jackson then goes on to “sob” rather loudly as he curls himself up into a fetal position on the floor, mumbling things like, ‘I’m too young to die,’ ‘Why me?’ and ‘This can’t be happening.’

I’m surprised no one’s killed him yet. I would’ve done it by now.

I groan out loud as Jackson continues on with his sobbing and pleading. “Can you please just shoot him already?”

Lucas seems to actually like my suggestion as he aims the gun at Jackson instead of me. Jackson abruptly ceases making any sounds, gets to his feet, and brushes himself off.

“Ok, I’m good now,” He says. He eyes the gun aimed at his head. “I don’t like guns,” He states seriously. Lucas looks at him as if he’s completely lost his mind.

It really wouldn’t surprise me if he has.

“I’m serious,” He growls. “Get that damn gun out of my face.”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise at his tone. Jackson’s a conman. He’s used to talking himself out of any situation. He does not fight and I’m not even sure if he can fight. Which is why it surprised me that he was stupid enough to barge into this room to begin with.

Lucas doesn’t move the gun away from Jackson. I barely even see Jackson move as he grabs the gun, twists it out of Lucas’ grip and aims it at Lucas’ chest. Immediately every other gun in the room is pointed at him.

Jackson lets a cocky smile cross his face as he tosses the gun off to the side and slides his hands into his pockets. “I told you I don’t like guns,” He says by way of explanation. Everyone keeps their guns aimed at Jackson.

“Who are you?” Lucas question.

Jackson holds out his hand as if he completely expects Lucas to take it. “Wyatt Franklin.”

I resist the urge to groan yet again and I shoot him a glare. He, wisely, ignores me.

While everyone’s focus it on “Wyatt Franklin” I take my chance. My leg swings out, knocking the guy on my left down to the floor. I twist myself free from the other guy, grabbing another knife from my boot as I do so.

As soon as I move, all hell breaks loose. Gunshots echo out as they fire away at both Jackson and me. We both rush out into the hall, and duck into the empty elevator, bullets spraying up the walls next to us.

“I was handling it,” Jackson tells me and I give him a blank look. “Ok, so it could have been going better, but come on Babe, you’ve got to admit, I make a good distraction.”

He takes a gun from his waistband and I raise my eyebrows in question.He rolls his eyes. “I got this off one of the guys.”

“I thought you don’t like guns.”

“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use one,” He peaks out and begins to fire. His isn’t bad. Not the best in the world, but definitely not bad either. Surprising, since I know he’s not a fan of violence. I throw a few of knives as the gunshots continue to lodge themselves into the back of the elevator. Eventually, all gun fire ceases.

Jackson tosses the gun on the floor as we exit the elevator. “Well,” He says as he surveys the bodies, most of which have knives imbedded in their heads or chest. Several of them have bullet holes in various parts of their bodies, but what I had noticed as Jackson was shooting, was that he hadn’t been shooting to kill anyone. He’d simply been shooting in an attempt to stop them from getting any closer.

“That could’ve gone worse,” He says and I roll my eyes. I notice Lucas on the floor a few yards from me and still alive. I walk up to him and he tries to scoot back away from me. I notice three bullet holes in his leg.

“Nice shooting Storm,” I tell him as I reach Lucas. My hands begin to twirl my dagger.

Jackson eyes Lucas. “I take it you can take care of things from here?”

I nod in response as Lucas continues to try and scoot back, only to hit the wall. Jackson nods as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through the screen.

“Well,” He says after a moment. “I’ve got to go. I really have no desire to watch what happens next . . . but, if you were to need someone to help you wash up after, then I guess I could be persuaded to stick around,” He gives me a suggestive smile and waggles his eyebrows at me. “You know, you might need some help getting all that blood out while you’re in the shower.”

“Get lost Storm.”

He winks as he walks off towards the stairs. “One day Babe. I’ll win you over.”

I shake my head. “In your dreams Storm.”

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