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

Chapter 24

Harry clung to his gun as he edged closer to the corner, tensely shifting his weight, keeping his back pressed against the cool wall. Flakes of cheap, dirty white paint clung to the dark fabric of his hoodie, and he pulled a face. Dressing entirely in black might have been appropriate for the mood, but in a building painted completely in exciting shades of white, from boiled potato to sour cream, he was left dangerously conspicuous. He stuck out like a lump of coal in a snowdrift. Easing forwards on his tiptoes, he flicked off the safety on his gun and flexed his finger against the trigger, holding it at the height he’d been taught. It was unnecessary  to do all of this before turning the corner; Harry had proved many times during training that he had frighteningly fast reflexes, and could pull a gun and be shooting someone before they had even realized what was happening – but he found a strange reassurance in knowing that if someone took him by surprise, he’d already have blown their brains out in the time it should have taken him to raise his gun. Licking his lips, he poked his head carefully around the corner, checked behind him, then quickly slipped around the bend and kept sliding  along. So far, to his relief, he hadn’t needed to shoot anyone, and although he would have unhesitatingly put a bullet in the brain of anyone who tried to stop him from rescuing Louis – and, apparently, Niall – he was hoping that it wouldn’t come to that.

The spare gun in his pocket bumped ominously against his thigh, a deadly reminder, and Harry swallowed. Almost glad that Niall would have lost his first gun and would be needing the spare, he patted it carefully. The idea of Louis fumbling around with a weapon like that was…horrific. Harry cringed at the thought. Okay, so Niall recoiled every time he saw a gun, balked at the idea of shooting a target, let alone a real person, squealed every time he squeezed the trigger and was a crap shot – but at least he’d had some training, and knew how to handle himself around a gun, albeit very reluctantly. Louis wouldn’t have a clue what he was doing. He would bravely wave it around like an idiot and be more likely to accidentally hit someone over the head with it than shoot them. Harry almost laughed at the thought – until he remembered the most important rule of infiltration, extraction, and handling a gun in the first place: never get distracted. Suddenly sober, he pressed on.

Adrenaline-junkies, Harry swiftly decided, were idiots. His veins thrummed with an energy he couldn’t wait to be rid of; everything he saw was sharpened into uncomfortable focus. He loathed adrenaline, and the nervous, irrepressible enthusiasm that came with it. Adrenaline made Harry impulsive – which led to him acting too quickly and doing things he regretted. It never ended well. He was also left exhausted after it faded; when he had Louis safely in his arms, he would simply be wrapping them both in their duvet, clinging to Louis like a limpet and not letting go until his arms and legs fell off. Or when he fell asleep and Louis could make his escape. Hopefully, that wasn’t something he would be all too keen to do.

Something creaked, and Harry paled, gripping the cold metal in his hand so hard that his knuckles turned white. Noises in an otherwise silent building – not good. Speeding up, he cautiously approached the next corner, then paused to check his stance. It had been relentlessly drummed into him time and time again that the gun positioning was the important thing, not how you stood, but if you had plenty of time to ready yourself, you might as well get everything spot on and maximise your chances of getting a clear shot. Not that Harry had ever had problems with hitting his targets, but he had no intention of getting sloppy, especially not at a time like this. So Harry took a deep breath, placed his feet widely apart, and held onto his weapon with both hands. Rolling his shoulders to loosen them up a little, he steadied himself, focusing intently.

Make sure your gun is a safe distance from your body…

Before he could allow himself any time to think, before the fear could kick in like a punch to the stomach and incapacitate him, before he could be left immobilized by stupid pessimistic thoughts of who or what might be lying in wait for him around the next bend, Harry threw himself around the corner with a flinch and a harsh intake of breath –