Alexei And Grace

07 | Operational Issues

IT ALL HAPPENED VERY QUICKLY. Just as the man beside Alex allowed his finger to twitch on the trigger, Alex forcefully shoved him to the side. "Nyet!" he bellowed, wrestling the other man's arm so that the bullet whizzed past me and planted itself in the wall with a cracking sound.

          (No!)

          I hardly had time to scream or think - to really think about the fact I'd almost just been shot. Instead I dropped to my knees and curled my arms around them, preparing myself for further fire. I wasn't familiar with guns nor the idea of being around them; unlike America, my country had strict gun laws and so walking into a room full of them was even more terrifying.

          I'd never seen one before, let alone been fired at by one!

          Between the group of men an intense conversation broke out in a language I didn't understand. I watched, still shielding half of my face, as Alex raised his own gun to the man who was now scrambling off the marble floor, disarmed.

          "Grace," he spoke lowly, voice perfectly level and calm. I noticed that he'd taken up a British accent again. "Come here." I couldn't move. I couldn't. It was like I'd gone into shock, my body still shaking from a rush of adrenaline stronger than I could handle. Alex's gaze flickered my way for a second, his spare hand extending in a "come here" motion. "Grace," he repeated firmly.

          Unsteadily, I rose to my feet. My pulse had quickened until it throbbed in my temples, drowning out the tense silence of the awe-struck room. I kept my eyes trained on Alex as I took a step closer; I knew if I looked anywhere else I would see prying eyes, and that would only make my panic worse.

          I hesitated drawing closer to the table. Approaching a man with a gun went against my natural instincts; no matter what I thought about Alex, did I really know him? Could he be trusted?

          "I won't hurt you," he promised, and for some reason, I believed him. Just like it had been two years ago, it was as though he could read my thoughts and answer them accordingly. "Nobody will hurt you."

Somehow I managed to stumble towards him through my shock. He drew my body into his and I practically collapsed, but with inhuman strength he held me up one handed. He cradled my head into his chest and for just a second the smell of his cologne hit me, bringing back memories of our last meeting two years ago, when he'd said it's for the best. Now I could believe him.

His fingers worked through my shoulder length blonde hair soothingly as I felt his body stiffen. All my senses were muffled by his close proximity and the soft cotton of his white shirt. There was a loud bang that hardly registered followed by a small jolt as Alex's body absorbed the shock of his gun. I didn't need to see to know that the man who had shot me was himself now dead.

I drew back half an inch to watch as Alex aimed his gun at each of the other men in turn, rotating around the table. "Nobody touches her, da?"

(Yes?)

Slow murmurs of what I assumed was assent travelled around the stunned table as each man faced the looming barrel of Alex's handgun. Pressed to his hard chest, I knew that my own body was shaking violently but I was beyond caring. In my drunken state, I'd never bargained on this happening, not in a million years. Suddenly all the time I'd spent hoping Alex would call me felt like it had been wasted. I wished I'd never found him at all.

He tucked the gun into his waistband and proceeded to wrap his other arm around my waist. "Come on," he said lowly, just to me, his lips brushing against my ear. He guided me away from the table and towards another door at the back of the room, through which a set of stairs ascended. We emerged from them onto the top level of the club.