Private Beijing

Chapter 71

We stayed there, me panting heavily, the assassin and his accomplice gauging me, trying to figure out if they could take me down before I killed Liu. He lay with his hands clamped above the hole in his thigh, eyeing me with hatred. Zhang Daiyu looked defiant. I glanced over my shoulder to see Shang Li, disheveled, dirty, and slick with sweat. I felt immense relief to be reunited with the friend I’d feared dead. He looked as though he’d been beaten and battered by days of captivity, but he was alive.

I kept my gun on Liu. The assassin who’d bested me twice was alternating between targeting me and menacing Zhang Daiyu, while his accomplice kept his gun trained solely on me. Their wounded colleague in the doorway was still crying out in agony, adding to an extremely tense situation.

Time seemed to slow as we faced down each other. My perception became heightened as adrenaline surged through my body. The assassin’s fingers curled around the trigger, and his accomplice developed a tic in his right eyelid. I noticed Liu Bao looking pointedly at his men, doubtless trying to communicate something. The longer this went on, the worse my odds.

I needed to break the deadlock.

I waited until the assassin swung his gun on me then brought my own round to shoot his accomplice. The man went down as a volley of bullets hit him in the gut.

Zhang Daiyu used the sudden violence to turn on the startled assassin and wrestle him for possession of his weapon.

I yelled, “Zhang Daiyu!”

She glanced back and understood my intent instantly. She let go of the man and stepped back.

He realized he was exposed and tried to bring his gun round to shoot me, but I already had him in my sights and squeezed the trigger, unleashing a short burst that caught him in the chest.

He staggered back, dropped his gun, clutched at his heart, and fell to his knees. An instant later, he collapsed face-forward and there was a sickening crack as his skull hit the concrete base outside the container.

I rounded on Liu Bao, who was fighting the pain to try and pull himself toward his weapon. He stopped and raised his hands.

Zhang Daiyu grabbed the assassin’s gun, ran over to Shang Li, and removed his gag.

“Jack, Zhang Daiyu,” he croaked. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

His voice was dry and rough like sandpaper. I dreaded to think how he’d been treated by these people.

Their cruelty only fueled my anger.

“Why did you target us?” I asked Liu, closing on him. He forced himself to his knees, and I raised my gun and pointed the barrel directly at his head. “Answer me!”

He glanced at his dead henchmen and fear filled his eyes.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “Don’t kill me and I will tell you everything.”