Darkness in a crowded room has a sound. It's the sharp intake of breath from three hundred people at once.
Then, the scream.
"Nobody move! This is a robbery!"
The voice was harsh, amplified by a megaphone. Beams of tactical flashlights cut through the gloom, blinding and disorienting.
I dropped to a crouch instantly. My hand went to my thigh, searching for a holster that wasn't there. Civilian setting. Adapt.
"Get down!" I hissed to Professor Harrison, pulling him behind a heavy marble pillar.
Three men. Balaclavas. Automatic weapons. They were moving toward the stage, toward the blue diamond I had just bought.
I scanned the room.
Julian was under a table. I saw his Italian leather shoes protruding from beneath the white tablecloth. He had shoved Seraphina aside to get there; she was huddled on the floor, sobbing, exposed.
Coward.
One of the gunmen, the leader, jumped onto the stage. He grabbed the diamond case.
"We got it! Let's go!"
But the second gunman, a loose cannon, turned his weapon toward the crowd. He was jittery. High on adrenaline.
"Shut up!" he screamed at a woman who was crying. He raised the rifle.
He was going to fire.
I didn't think. The equation in my head solved itself in a microsecond. Distance: 15 feet. Threat: Imminent. Cover: None.
I kicked off my heels. They skittered across the marble floor. I reached down and tore the side slit of my silk dress up to my thigh to free my legs.
I moved. Silent. Low.
I sprinted from behind the pillar, using the shadows between the flashlight beams. I hit the second gunman from the blind side.
My shoulder drove into his kidney. He grunted, the rifle swinging wild.
I grabbed the barrel with my left hand, searing my palm on the hot metal, and drove the heel of my right hand into his throat.
He gagged, his grip loosening.
I ripped the weapon from his hands. I spun, dropping to one knee.
The third gunman saw me. He raised his pistol.
Pop-pop.
I fired two controlled bursts. Not to kill. To disable. One round into his right shoulder, one into his thigh. He dropped screaming.
The leader on the stage froze. He looked at me-a woman in a torn backless evening gown holding an AR-15 with a grip that looked desperate but effective.
"Drop it," I said. My voice was calm. Too calm for a civilian, but in the chaos, it just sounded like shock.
He hesitated.
"Do it," I commanded. "Or I shoot."
He dropped the gun. He dropped the diamonds.
The doors burst open. SWAT teams flooded the room.
"Police! Drop the weapon!"
I placed the rifle on the floor, stood up slowly, and raised my hands.
"Clear!" I called out. "Bad guys are down! Don't shoot!"
The SWAT lead approached, weapon raised. Then he saw my face in the flashlight beam. He saw the way I stood. He saw the scar on my shoulder.
He lowered his gun slightly.
"Ma'am? Step away from the weapon."
"I'm stepping away," I said. "Just a civilian. I got lucky."
The lights flickered back on.
The scene was a tableau of chaos. Overturned chairs. Shattered glass. And me, standing in the center, soot on my face, blood on my hands (not mine), looking like a vengeful deity.
Julian crawled out from under the table. He stood up, brushing crumbs from his knees. He looked at the gunmen writhing on the floor. He looked at me.
His mouth opened and closed like a fish.
"You..." he whispered. "You touched a gun."
"I did," I said.
"But... you hate violence. You wouldn't watch action movies with me."
"I don't like pretend violence, Julian," I said, wiping my hands on a napkin. "And I certainly don't like dying."
Seraphina was being helped up by a waiter. She looked at me with pure terror.
A slow clapping started from the balcony.
We all looked up.
Asher Blackwood was leaning over the railing. The billionaire defense contractor. The "Madman of Manhattan." He was wearing a tuxedo that cost more than Julian's house, and he was looking at me like I was the most delicious thing he had ever seen.
"Bravo," Asher drawled. "Simply... bravo."
He walked down the stairs, ignoring the police, ignoring the chaos. He walked straight to me.
"Jade Sterling," he said, extending a hand. "I heard you were on the market. My security firm needs a consultant. Name your price."
I looked at his hand. It was steady. Dangerous.
"You can't afford me, Blackwood," I said.
Asher grinned. It was a wolfish, hungry thing. "Try me."
Julian stepped forward, finding his voice. "She's my wife! You can't just-"
Asher turned to Julian. The smile vanished. His eyes went dead.
"Your wife?" Asher asked. "Funny. I saw you under the table while she was clearing the room. If she were my wife, I wouldn't be hiding behind a tablecloth."
Julian flinched as if struck.
"Come on, Jade," Asher said, offering his arm. "Let's get you a drink. You look like you need tequila."
I looked at Julian. He was small. So incredibly small.
I took Asher's arm.
