Chapter 11
(Pt 1)
Cold hard fingers of despair closed around her heart like a vice, suddenly robbing her of her breath, and Xandrie gasped sharply for air, gulping like a fish out of water. A strangled, broken �NO� escaped her lips, bringing her out of her daze, and she pushed herself forward on weak uncooperative legs; forward to where the man to whom she was finally prepared to declare her love lay unmoving on the floor by a bedpost.
She dropped to her knees before him, gasping as she noted the ugly gash just above his temple and the trail of blood, already partially caked, that covered the side of his face, accentuating its deathly pallor. Her trembling fingers slid down his neck in a frantic desperate attempt to find a pulse. Christian was still, so frighteningly still�.
She bit her lip, trying to push back the unsettling thoughts. He couldn't be dead, he just couldn't!
Finally, after an agonizingly long and terrifying moment of absolute quiet, when the only sensation she felt was the painfully cold numbness of her fingers against his pale skin, she felt it � a faint quiver under her fingertips. It was a pulse; weak and barely noticeable, but still a pulse.
�Oh, thank God!� she breathed, dizzy from the overwhelming sense of relief that washed over her.
He is alive.
Keeping her mind focused solely on the unconscious man in her arms (she would have time yet to grieve about Robert), Xandrie occupied herself with checking for other injuries. Not finding any, she gave a quick prayer of thanks for her good fortune and leaned over him, pressing her hand gently against his cheek.
�Wake up, Christian, please. We need to get out of here. Please.�
But her plea fell on deaf ears, and despair crept back into her heart.
Suddenly, she heard the front door squeak loudly, and she jumped, her eyes automatically searching for the dropped weapon. She saw it on the floor only inches away, and reached for it, the cool metal slipping into her hand just as two shadows fell on the threshold.
She fired without thinking, her mind registering a strange sense of vindication at the sight of one of her hunters crumpling to the floor with a pitiful groan. She rose slowly, taking a step forward, her weapon trained on the second man. The latter, his posture replicating hers exactly, smiled a tense but threatening smile, throwing a passing glance at his fallen colleague.
�Very nice work, Xandrie,� he acknowledged grimly. �Your instincts have always been very sharp.�
�If I followed my instincts, Henri, you would have been dead a long time ago,� she bit back, her eyes glowing dangerously.
Henri gave a small shrug, dismissing her threat. �Well, ch�rie, I could say the same thing about you. My instinct was to stay here and wait for you to come to us. But that idiot Raymond,� he nodded contemptuously at the still convulsing body at his feet, �thought we should go out and look for you.� He moved forward, stepping over the dying man, and causing Xandrie to recoil involuntarily.
�I suggest you put your gun down, ch�rie,� he said calmly, his dark eyes carefully observing the petite woman before him.
�Why would I do that?�
Henri shrugged again, as if attesting to the plain obviousness of the response, and pointed his gun somewhere just behind Xandrie. �If you don�t, I will shoot � your friend there.�
Xandrie shuddered inwardly, as she stepped back closer to Christian. �I won�t let you do that. I�ll kill you first.�
�Well, maybe your bullet will stop me before I get a chance to fire, or maybe it won�t. Are you prepared to take that chance?�
Even before she opened her mouth to respond, Xandrie knew the answer. She wasn�t. And Henri knew it too, for his smile grew ever wider, as he watched the crumpled expression on her face.
Xandrie closed her eyes briefly, resigning herself to her decision, and threw her gun forward at his feet.
�So are you going to shoot me now?� she asked, crossing her arms defiantly on her chest.
Henri shook his head. �No. I think M. Debray would mind if I did. I�m pretty sure he�d like to do the honors himself.�
�You killed Robert. You think he wouldn�t mind that ?�
Henri shrugged, throwing a quick disdainful glance in the direction of the old man. �He was getting to be a liability. Besides, M. Debray does not tolerate traitors, and by helping you the old man was going against the Boss�s wishes, so� my kill was absolutely justified.�
�Is that the line you�re gonna feed Debray?� Xandrie asked, fighting to suppress the wave of panic that was beginning to take her over. She knew that if Debray got his hands on her, she was dead, and that he would be sure to make her death very slow and very painful. She�d seen it before � how he �handled� those who dared to cross him; the mere thought of it made her shudder. But she was doing the right thing, she kept telling herself. She needed to get this man away from Christian. Maybe she could make a run for it later. With just Henri to accompany her, she had a chance. But first she needed to make sure that Christian was safe.
�That and the fact that he killed one of Boss�s men.� Henri motioned impatiently with his gun. �Enough small talk, ch�rie. We shouldn�t keep the Boss waiting. I can answer the rest of your questions on the way.�
The moment of respite was over. It was time to face the music, and maybe, just maybe, she'd get the chance to lead her last dance (maybe even live through it).
Throwing a wistful farewell glance at the unconscious man at her feet, Xandrie squared her shoulders and walked with the confidence she did not feel past Henri to the doorway.