Miss No One, Mark Ayre [romantic love story reading .TXT] 📗

the building, Smoker (Winston) and Orion were edging backwards down a slope. A hundred metres away, Abbie could see two cars. She knew, if she allowed Isabella to disappear into one of those, it was game over. Orion and Winston would be gone, the child would die.

Through the smoke, Winston's man appeared, having jogged the length of the building to rejoin his team.

"I wouldn't come any further if I were you," said Winston to Abbie. "Bit of friendly advice."

Winston's guy passed directly by Abbie and Ndidi. Twisting his head, he raised a hand, waved, and gave a nasty smile.

Then, from somewhere nearby, there was a crack, and that nasty smile disappeared as its wearer's head popped like a blood-filled balloon.

Winston was shouting.

“No, no, no, you idiot. Be more careful. What the blazing hell was—“

Another shot fired. Blood splashed from Winston’s head as he spun like a top and hit the ground.

Eyes widening, Orion looked towards the watchtower. Then, grabbing Isabella like a rugby ball, he turned and bolted down the hill towards the cars.

Xavier lay face down on the metal grate of the watchtower platform.

A little earlier, before Evans' car had exploded, Moore had stepped from the control room and had inadvertently distracted Winston. While the two men conversed, Ana had released her seatbelt. Greedy gravity had clutched her as the harness whipped away and dragged her to the other side of the car with a thud.

Already, Ana's body was racked with pain. Every movement was agony, but somehow, her determination to live overcame the pain, which might otherwise have been debilitating.

As Moore and Winston argued, Ana had climbed through the shattered windscreen and, under cover of the smoke, sprinted away from the car.

Which promptly exploded.

Ana had made it far enough that she was struck by neither flames nor debris, but the shockwave still floored her.

For what might have been seconds or hours, Ana lay in the grass, taking deep breaths, recovering.

When she eventually sat, all she wanted was to lie back down or go home, but she couldn't. Winston was alive. So far as Ariana knew, so were the Beckers. Ana didn't know what state Abbie was in but her partner, her Holmes (was that right this time?), needed her help.

Stumbling, staggering, she had crept towards the watchtower. On the way, she'd found something heavy and smooth. A huge pebble, if pebbles could be this big. With as much care as her injured form allowed, she had snuck up the watchtower steps towards her target.

Earlier, Winston had focused on the wrong thing, allowing Ana to escape the car without getting a shotgun slug in the back. This time, Xavier was so focused on the exit from where he expected the enemy to spill that he didn't hear Ana’s approach until it was too late.

Gun in hand, he spun as Ana brought the pebble crashing onto his skull.

The rifleman went to his knees but wasn't out of action. Two more blows and he was unconscious on the watchtower floor, his blood seeping through the metal grate, dripping to the grass below.

A month ago, Ana had tried to kill Abbie. Her determination to do so had led to the death of her boyfriend. Most people would probably count Gray, the boyfriend, as Ana's first murder, but Ana couldn't take credit. It had been an accident.

She didn't know if Xavier was her first murder because she hadn't checked for a pulse. If it wasn't him, it was most certainly Victor.

The smoke was already thinning as Ana took up the rifle. She heard Winston's radio transmission and was glad he didn't ask for Xavier's input. When the boss raised his hand in salute, Ana considered shooting, but she wasn't ready. The glass from the windscreen had cut her palms, and she was bleeding all over the gun, making the grip slick and hard to hold. The pain in her back flared up when she leaned in to put her eye against the rifle's scope, and her vision was still a little blurry.

Forcing herself to take deep breaths, Ana kept her eye against the scope and watched as Winston disappeared into the building. A minute or so later, he reappeared. Ana had hoped, when he reemerged, she would be able to end his life. No such luck. Seconds after he left the building, Orion appeared. The two men remained close together, and Orion held the child. Ana had never fired any kind of gun, and while it seemed simple enough in practice, Isabella's proximity to Orion and Winston made Ana beyond nervous.

The building's second exterior door opened, and Victor exited into the night.

This was a more promising opportunity.

Spinning the gun, almost letting it slide through bloodied hands as she did, Ana located Victor with the scope. She wanted to take him out ASAP but, by this point, he was jogging. She tracked his progress down the building's length as best she could but knew she stood next to no chance of hitting him while he moved at his current speed.

The smoke billowed around Victor as he progressed, but by this point, it had thinned enough that Ana didn't lose him.

When the crook reached the opposite end of the tube-shaped building, he slowed. Through the scope, Ana watched him raise a hand in a wave to someone out of sight and knew she would never get a better chance.

She pulled the trigger.

Her body was still shaking, her vision was blurred. Luck more than impressive marksmanship carried the bullet through Victor's skull, ending his life.

Ana had managed to convince herself she hadn't killed her boyfriend. Until she checked for a pulse, Xavier may well be alive.

There was no chance with Victor. Ana was officially a murderer.

She felt funny inside. It was as though a strange hollow spot had opened and was sucking everything around it in. Victor was undoubtedly a nasty person, and Ana's shot might save Abbie's life. Regardless, she felt a tear run down her cheek.

Abbie had been right. Falling