CHASING GHOSTS | BUCKY BARNES

11

A/N: Get ready for a +3500 word chapter. Oh, and this one's in a different pov ;)

Enjoy!
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"It was her chaos that made her beautiful."

BUCKY

For a moment, everything was quiet, except for the distant music that came from the ballroom. No one moved, they just stood there with their weapons pointed, wondering who'd make the first move. In hindsight, Bucky and Nadine must've looked ridiculous pretending that they stood any chance against automatic rifles, but they didn't budge. Minutes passed until François got bored with the standoff, and motioned for the men behind them to get closer. "My gem, please."

Bucky looked at Nadine, noticing the apprehension in her demeanor. She knew how much of a risk it was to give it back, but there wasn't much that they could do without getting shot in the head. "Where's Kaia?" she asked, her tone dangerously low.

"Where is she indeed?" he half-mocked, but by the way a muscle on his jaw tightened, it's clear he wasn't pleased that the French woman escaped his clutches once again. "It appears she ran once she killed Mr. Delacroix after discovering his deceit. If she's smart, she'd leave you and give herself more time to live. Now, the gem, if you will."

Nadine clicked her tongue, trying to act nonchalant, but her mouth twitched as she held back a scowl. Slowly, she lowered her weapon and extended her purse towards François, watching in anger as he snatched it from her grip. As he studied the glowing sphere, Bucky knew it was the best time to try to come up with a plan. They needed to do something, but they couldn't speak freely without being caught. So, he did the next best thing in hopes that it'd work. "Скòлько?" he asked in Russian, hoping that Nadine would catch on and understand what he meant.

She did. Thank you, Romanoff. "Я бы сказал, что около двадцати." Her Russian's clear and easy to understand, her twang-y American accent slipping through the last few syllables. She eyed the men that were on the first floor, weapons pointed at their direction from below. "Может быть, тридцать."

Around twenty men didn't seem like a terrible amount, but seeing the amount of weapons at their disposal didn't make it easy.

"Я очень хочу, чтобы мы принесли винтовки," he said as he lowered his weapon to the ground, never letting François out of his sight. He'd brought three of them, but handguns could only do so much in situations like this. He hoped they didn't check him for the other two.

"Винтовки более тверже скрывать в смокинге, хотя," she muttered in contempt, her eyes figuratively burning a hole through their opponent's head. Despite having only known her for a few weeks, he'd realized early on just how much anger she could put in her stare. It was actually intimidating; it's like she'd set the world on fire in order to get to those who've wronged her. And maybe she would; she certainly seemed capable of doing so.

"Stop your Russian conspiring before I shoot your pretty face," François snapped, zipping the purse back up after being satisfied that his prize was in one piece. His gaze was focused on Nadine, and by his wolfish stare Bucky knew exactly what he was thinking, and was ready to kill him for it. "And it'd be a shame to do so. With a face like yours, the possibilities are endless."

Bucky decided to ignore the innuendo and instead try to distract him. Maybe if they kept him talking they could stall their eventual execution. "Does he always talk this much or are we getting the special treatment?"