Delaney looked right into his wide, terrified eyes. She did not smile. She did not blink.
"Va en enfer, bâtard," Delaney whispered softly in French. (Go to hell, bastard.)
She pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The loud, deafening sound of the gunshot echoed violently through the quiet, cold woods. A bright flash of orange fire burst from the barrel. A thick cloud of gray, sulfur-smelling smoke filled the small space between them.
Without missing a single beat, Delaney cocked the hammer back with her thumb and pulled the trigger a second time.
Bang!
The second shot was just as loud, just as deadly.
Lucas's body jerked violently backward with the massive impact of the lead bullets. The physical shock of the terrible wounds shot through his entire system.
The tight, crushing grip of his hand around her throat instantly began to loosen. His long fingers slipped away from her skin, leaving dark red bruises on her pale neck.
