Accidental Affair (excerpt 2)

            “Open the doors, sweet cheeks,” Mr. Clean said with a growl, “and no funny stuff or you’ll live much longer than you want to.”

            Laine only nodded, and realized she might actually be able to blubber after all.  Her heart was hammering in her chest and her mouth was dry.  Her hands trembled as she got out of the car.  Once the barn doors were open she turned and looked at her captor.  He opened his window.

            “Drive her on in, honey,” he said with a sweet smile.  “Then we can close the doors and have us some privacy.”

            Laine closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded and got back behind the wheel.  The Rover passed through the doors, from light into darkness, from out in the open to hidden, alone, with him.  The first fingers of panic clutched at her heart.  She took several deep breaths, then parked and shut off the engine.

            “Close the doors,” he said again.  “Ain’t nobody going to see us way out here, but I prefer to err on the side of caution.”

            When Laine exited the vehicle so did Mr. Clean.  He moved to the side as she walked past him.  The next scene in this little drama played out in her head as she pulled the barn doors shut.  She wondered if she could possibly pull off what she was thinking.  Did she have even the slimmest chance of getting the drop on a trained mercenary?  Then again, she didn’t have much choice but to try.

            Laine had deliberately left her car door open, and Mr. Clean stood to the left of it, one hand resting on the top of the door frame.  She swallowed hard and tried to be as non-threatening as possible as she approached him.  He watched her out of the corner of his eye, and scowled when she leaned across the driver’s seat to reach for her purse.  Immediately the gun whipped around and found a tender spot between her shoulder blades.

            “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked in a deadly voice.  “I said no funny stuff.”

            “The keys to the cellar are in my purse,” she replied, holding her hands up.  “Unless you want to break down the door, we need them.”

            It was nearly ten seconds before he spoke.  “Fine, but watch yourself.  One wrong move and it will be days before I kill you.”

            Laine nodded mutely and reached for the purse.  She took the strap with her left hand, and put her right hand inside the bag.  The gun was easy to find since it was a lot bigger than a lipstick, and she wrapped her fingers around the grip, flicking the safety off with her thumb.  With exaggerated slowness she backed out of the Rover and turned toward him.  He growled, grabbed the strap, and jerked the bag from her.  Laine held her breath.

            “Give me those keys,” he said as he searched the inside of her purse, the muzzle of his pistol angling toward the floor as he did so.  He never noticed the gun in her right hand.  He didn’t even notice it when she leveled it at his chest.  Several seconds passed before he froze, his eyeballs swiveling to look at the pistol.

            Laine grit her teeth.  “I know you wanted to . . . explore this relationship,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “but I think I’m going to have to kill you.  Now.”

            She squeezed the trigger just as she’d been taught all her life, and there was a soft “pfft” as the pistol fired.  Mr. Clean looked at her in shock.  Laine fired again.  He seemed frozen, then the spell broke and he fell backwards.

            Strong fingers wrapped around her wrist and she nearly jumped out of her skin, the gun discharging again as she reflexively squeezed the trigger.  Jack stood to her right, on the other side of the open driver’s door, reaching around the frame, his eyes filled with concern and fear.

            “Give me the gun, Laine,” he said in a whisper.  “It’s over.”