Free The Perfect Hostage (A Super Agent Novella) (Entangled Edge) by Misty Evans

against a gun.
    A flash of silver near the island caught her eye. The cake server. She released John’s hand and stretched out a leg. If she could extend her foot a few more inches, she might be able to get it…
    A pressure on her hand stopped her. John’s hand was wrapped around her wrist. His eyes were still closed, his breathing shallow, but something had changed.
    He was awake. Alive and lucid, by the force of his grip.
    The scrape of chair legs warned her Saunders was getting up. Lucie braced, waiting for him to yank her hair or shoot her in the back.
    “Time to go, Lucie,” he sing-songed, his presence looming behind her like her nightmare. His voice was light. Proud, even.
    There was no way she was going anywhere with him. She stared at John, willing him to know that she loved him. That her last view was of him. “You have my money. Leave and I won’t tell the FBI or the police that it was you. If you’re as good as you say you are they’ll never catch you.”
    “True. But I can’t take the chance that you’ll grow a pair and tell them anyway.” He shoved the laptop in a backpack and hoisted it onto his shoulders. “So you and I have to take a little trip outside. The blizzard’s over and I have transportation waiting for us. You’re coming with me until I’m out of the country. Call it a security precaution. A good hacker always covers his tracks.”
    Lucie was about to tell him to go to hell when the jerk to her hair finally came, hauling her to her feet. Her wrist broke free of John’s hand, but he didn’t move. Didn’t open his eyes.
    “Let’s go,” Saunders demanded.
    He tossed her coat at her, once again aiming the gun at John’s head. She obeyed, her mind racing for some way to end this. No way was she leaving John’s side.
    “Go put on your boots.”
    Boots. Her boots has super thick soles and some righteous heels. Good for pummeling a bad guy. And maybe leading him away from the kitchen would give John the chance to do something. If he stayed conscious. “They’re in the living room.”
    He waved the end of the gun at her. She led the way.
    She sat on the bench under the security system and tugged on one boot, then the other. Saunders opened the door and stood looking out at the snowy lake, tinged blue in the dark. Cold air snaked inside and wrapped around Lucie’s legs. She kept one eye on the kitchen doorway. No John.
    Standing, she decided this was her best chance. Saunders’s back was to her. She could jump him from behind and…
    John appeared, his face set in grim determination and a gun in his hand. He aimed it at Saunders, hand trembling, and pulled the trigger.
    Click .
    Lucie flinched, but there was no loud bang. No bullet.
    John’s brows slammed together and he pulled the trigger again.
    Click.
    Lucie’s heart slammed hard in her chest. Either the gun was out of bullets or it had misfired.
    Saunders whirled, his eyes going wide as he saw the gun pointed at him. His own gun came up, but John wasted no time tossing his weapon aside and rushing by her to tackle him. The impact sent both men out the door, Saunders’s gun firing uselessly into the air, as together they plunged into the snow.
    They rolled once, twice, three times. John, in nothing but sweatpants, was quickly covered with snow. Saunders’s gun went flying, disappearing into a snowbank, as he landed with his back against the ATV sitting on the edge of the lake. John head-butted Saunders, smacking him backward into one of the wheels.
    The hit stunned him for half a second, and Lucie rushed out onto the lawn to look for the gun. Scrambling through the snow, she heard the sound of muffled fighting, shouting and grunting, both men trying to rise to their feet and gain the upper hand. She did the opposite, dropping to her knees and sweeping snow away from the spot where she thought the gun had landed. Nothing. She dug harder, and as she glanced over at the fight, she saw Saunders land a punch in John’s injured