Undercover Badge 2; Girl With A gun (Badass with a badge ) UNDER CONSTRUCTION

***CHAPTER 5***

Recap:

JAMES;

WHACK!

I reared back, arching my neck back. I'd been lost in my own thoughts. Opening my eyes wide in shock, I saw that I'd been his across the face with the butt of an R one rifle.

I attempted to bring up my gun, but t was stopped by a second pair of hands and thrown. My arms were twisted behind my back, and I was vulnerable. The masked man with the rifle turned and took aim. At the last moment, a second before he pulled the trigger, I kicked up. Sadly, he shot the bullet while the gun was on its way down. The pullet hit about four inches below my heart, and the bullet proof vest stopped the kill, but not the pain. I heard a crack and I knew I'd fractured a rib, great.

The breath got knocked out of me, and my legs slumped slightly. The man gripping my arms held me up higher, twisting my shoulder blades.

I he took careful aim, slower this time.

A moment before he pulled the trigger, I saw it. A tan hand shot out and wrapped in his hood. The fingers spreading across his forehead. The head was yanked back hard, and I heard the snap, surprised the head didn't snap clean off.

The body fell to the floor, and I saw her. My sexy vixen. She raised her gun, a pissed off look on that face of hers. I heard the shot, and felt the guy behind me slump. She'd just killed two people.

Why was I imagining her naked?

***

***Chapter 5***

"You totally botched it!" I yelled, pacing back and forth. The room was square, white, with the usual industrial grey carpet. James sat in a steel foldable chair on the other side of a metal table, dabbing disinfectant on his wounds. He winced every now and then. Amy was pinching the bridge of her nose, her head tilted downward, her arms crossed.

A few of James's bosses were standing around and every one looked weary of me, voicing my ire. "What were you thinking!" I yelled. "You could have been killed, damn it!"

With irritation, I walked over to the hostage we'd taken, the one that had been holding James. He was handcuffed to his chair, still unconscious. I pulled buck my right fist launching it, and hitting the seemingly knocked out man on the jaw. He was suffering the brunt of my anger.

"Hey! That's illegal, and no way to handle a suspect." a high FBI official snapped at me. I whipped around, glaring at him. "I m a mercenary, an assassin for hire, and an Intelligence operative. I'm above the law. Second, he's far from a suspect, he was about to shoot James in cold blood. Your lucky he isn't on a concrete slab during Autopsy." I hissed, my eyes flashing.

James glanced up at the use of his name, those midnight blues curious, before returning to his wounds.

I growled in frustration. I was about to return to physically assaulting our "Hostage" when the previously mentioned awoke.

Finally, I could put my Pissed off personality to work on interrogation.

Twenty minutes later, we were all still shell-shocked. I had my head in my hands, my brain pounding behind my eyeballs. I could feel a bitch of a migraine coming on. "Duncan's in bed with the Mafia." I said through my hands, my voice becoming a mumble.

"And the Triads." Amy commented. She'd returned to her earlier position, pinching the bridge of her nose. Only now, her head was tilted back and rested against the wall.

"And the Columbians." James had his forehead to the metal table.

"And the Nigerians." Another one of James's colleagues imputed.