She Can Kill (She Can Series) by Melinda Leigh Read Free Book Online Page A

moron. He’s the one we need.” Behind the counter, Blue Eyes glanced at Cristan.
    Why would they want him? They wouldn’t. Blue Eyes must have meant they still needed the manager to open the safe.
    “Get out of my way.” Blue Eyes struck the clerk across the face with the butt of his gun. “I’m getting some Twinkies.” He came out from behind the counter and sauntered down an aisle.
    The clerk’s legs collapsed. Blood welled from a cut on his cheek. The manager caught him and eased him to the floor.
    So much for nonviolence.
    In the corner of his eye, Cristan saw Kenzie gathering her child and slowly backing away. Smart girl, taking advantage of Cristan’s diversion. He wanted the child out of the line of fire in case someone started shooting.
    “One more fucking word out of you and I will blow your fucking face off,” Red Shirt screamed, taking another step toward Cristan, but not close enough to put the gun within reach. His eyes were overly bright, and drugs would explain the sheer stupidity of this robbery. Who would risk an armed robbery in broad daylight for a few hundred dollars? “If I want the woman, I’ll take the woman. Do you understand me?”
    “I do.” Cristan could see the desire to kill on the young man’s face. Red Shirt wanted to pull the trigger, but something was holding him back, possibly the fear of having the event recorded on a surveillance camera.
    “I think we’ll take you both,” Red Shirt said. “Hey, get back here, bitch,” he yelled to Kenzie.
    Cristan needed a weapon. Years of training and muscle memory took over. In one smooth and lightning-fast motion, he grabbed an ice scraper from the cardboard display next to him and arced it upward as if he were drawing a sword from a scabbard. The hard plastic handle caught Red Shirt in the forearm, a fraction of a second later the same motion carried the sharp plastic blade to his face. The gun flew out of his hands and slid across the tile. Blood spurted from his nose. The robber covered his gushing face with both hands. Cristan reversed the scraper in a circular motion. A downward strike brought the butt end of the hard plastic tool across Red Shirt’s temple. He fell to his knees. A kick to his ribs sent him into a face-plant on the tile.
    Cristan looked for the gun. Its momentum had carried it across the small store.
    “What the fuck is going on?” Blue Eyes emerged from behind a display, his arms laden with white Hostess boxes. His gaze darted around the store and landed on his unconscious partner. “Fuck.” He dropped the boxes and pulled his gun from his pocket.
    But Cristan was already moving toward him, closing the critical distance. He was on the robber before the gun was leveled. He grabbed the weapon with his left hand, wrapping his fingers over the slide and redirecting the muzzle toward the floor. A solid right cross struck the robber’s jaw. His head snapped back, and Cristan twisted the weapon out of his hands.
    Blue Eyes cradled his hand. “You broke my wrist.”
    Adjusting his grip on the gun, Cristan aimed at the center of Blue Eyes’s chest. “Get on your knees and put your hands on top of your head.”
    Blue Eyes complied. Cristan backed up and positioned his body to cover both robbers with the weapon. But Red Shirt was on his knees, a second gun in his hand. He pointed it at the manager.
    “We’re leaving or I shoot him.” He yelled to his partner, “Come on!”
    Blue Eyes ran out. Red Shirt backed out of the door, still aiming at the store manager. Cristan tracked him with the gun until both robbers ran around the side of the building, where they presumably had a vehicle.
    The store clerk and manager stared, both white faced and open mouthed.
    “Have you called the police?” Cristan asked without taking his eyes off the plate glass window, though he doubted the robbers would be back.
    The manager’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I hit the panic alarm. The police should be here any