Captive Of Lies Book 2(Imprisoned in my Heart trilogy...Larry)

Chapter 23

Niall had just finished fastening his shoe and straightened up, watching Harry slowly edge his way further down the corridor. He’d rocked back a little on his heels, shaking his head – and that was when he’d felt something cold and hard poking into the back of his head.

In hindsight, it wasn’t the best plan, but he’d whirled around in shock to see what it was and discovered that now he had the barrel of a gun pointing squarely in the middle of his forehead, ready to blow his brains out. All the colour had left his face and he started trembling; he’d never been at this end of a gun before. He’d thought he might vomit.

To him, the most unfair part was that the person holding the gun so calmly was not one of the tall, pink-faced men he’d expected; there was no square jaw or buzz cut in sight. The fingers curled around the gun were tanned and lithe, and the slim hand didn’t tremble. He was met with a confident gaze from someone with dark blue eyes, caramel brown hair and an almost insulting amount of nonchalance.

The woman had hair that cascaded wildly in tight curls down to the small of her back like a waterfall, and long eyelashes to compliment her blue eyes. Her mouth was a small pink shape on her face, fixed into a lazy pout, and she had high cheekbones. Her skin was lightly, evenly tanned, as if she had lived in a hot country for a number of years. She wore a kind of white jumpsuit with blue stripes, which was cinched in at the waist, sleeveless, showing her toned arms and giving enough indication of hidden curves to make you think about it but without being slutty. Her scarlet stiletto heels meant that she towered ridiculously over him, but she was tall enough that she would have been a good inch or so taller than him even without them. As she regarded him, she tilted her head to one side, almost flirtatiously, and her mouth quirked into a smile. Sliding a lipstick tube out of her pocket, she applied a layer of scarlet to her mouth with  frightening precision, despite having no mirror, and only having one hand free – then she replaced the tube and tapped Niall in the centre of the forehead with the gun.

The indication was clear: move. Niall hastily backed up a little, until the woman jerked her head to indicate the corridor behind her, with a toss of her curly hair. Quickly skirting around her, Niall obediently allowed her to press the gun to the back of his head and started walking in the direction she had pointed out. Hopefully she wouldn’t see how badly he was shaking. It didn’t help, of course, that she looked so much like a female version of Louis. Possibly that was why they’d sent her out; they knew it would be unsettling.

As they walked, the woman reached out and placed a hand on his hip, and Niall shivered lightly without meaning to at the undeniably flirtatious gesture – and then her slender fingers dipped into the pocket of his Chinos and she slid his gun out, examining it almost with boredom. She paused for a second, checking it out, then raised an eyebrow like she was reluctantly impressed and plunged the weapon into her own pocket. Inwardly, Niall swore. How could he have forgotten that? Admittedly, she would probably have blown his brains out before he could have gotten it out of his pocket, but it might have been useful later, and it had been a reassurance if nothing else. Odd, really, that something he loathed so much had become something he had depended on – without it he felt horribly vulnerable.

Guiding him around the corner, she seemed to delight in toying him: she tapped him lightly with her own gun, stroked his neck with the barrel of it, and basically taunted him with it at every opportunity to let him know who was in charge. Like he was going to argue with a woman who had a gun!

It didn’t take too long to get to their destination; even in the heels that clicked provocatively on the floor with every step, she set quite a pace, and Niall had to hurry to keep up with her. Not that he would dare to complain. She was chewing gum, he quickly noticed, and the constant snapping of gum and click of her jaw was annoying him, the waft of mint assaulting him every few seconds and making him feel strangely dizzy. One of the straps on her jumpsuit slipped off her shoulder, and the suit dipped a little, her hair falling off her neck to show a tiny nicotine patch fixed precisely on one shoulder. Was she trying to give up smoking? Why would a woman like this smoke anyway? Gang life was stressful, he supposed, especially for such an attractive woman. Maybe her life was hard. Maybe she was stick of the constant fug of cigarette fumes clinging to her pretty hair. Maybe she was struggling to kick a habit that had been with her for years. Niall felt sorry for her all of a sudden, but mostly he was comforted, because that little indication that she was a real, sometimes vulnerable human woman was reassuring. It made him feel like he had a chance to appeal to her, to talk his way out of this.