Chapter 4 - Blood on the Floor|
The towels blinded the killer for a fraction of a second. The suppressed pistol discharged, shattering the EKG monitor beside Vincent’s head in a burst of sparks and plastic.
Before the assassin could recover, Tessa seized the heavy iron base of an IV stand and swung it with all her strength. Metal slammed into ribs with a sickening crack.
The assassin grunted, staggering back, but instinctively lashed out with a backhand fist that caught Tessa across the jaw. She hit the floor hard, blood pooling at her lip.
Vincent’s hands clenched into fists beneath the sheets. Rage burned through his veins, but his drug-dulled muscles refused to move fast enough.
The assassin kicked Tessa violently in the stomach, knocking the air from her lungs. "Stupid bitch," he spat, raising the gun toward her head.
Desperate, Tessa reached out and yanked the power cord of the heavy, cart-mounted defibrillator. The machine crashed down directly onto the assassin's knees.
He roared in pain, losing his balance. The suppressed pistol slipped from his fingers, skidding across the floor and stopping right beside Vincent’s bed.
Tessa scrambled onto his back, biting his ear and clawing at his face in a wild, chaotic bid to keep him from reaching the weapon. The assassin slammed his weight backward against the wall, throwing her off. She hit the floor, dazed and breathless.
The assassin panted, wiping blood from his face, and reached down for the gun beside the bed.
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His hand touched the cold steel.
Then, a hand as hard as iron clamped around his wrist.
