Chapter 12 - Captured in the Crossfire
Panic overtook Thomas. Knowing he was dead if he stayed, he whipped out a concealed pistol, fired two wild shots into the ceiling, and lunged forward.
In the ensuing chaos and sudden darkness as someone shot out the main overhead lights, Thomas grabbed Penelope by the arm, dragging her behind an industrial conveyor belt.
"Move and she dies!" Thomas shrieked, pressing the cold barrel of his gun against Penelope's temple.
Larkin didn't flinch. He lowered his weapon slightly, his voice dropping into a register so dark and lethal that even the seasoned capos around them fell silent.
"Let her go, Thomas. This is between you and me."
"You took everything from me for her!" Thomas spat, his hand shaking violently against Penelope's head. "She's nothing! A little mouse who should have stayed behind a desk!"
Penelope didn't scream. She looked Larkin directly in the eyes. In that silent gaze, a lifetime of understanding passed between them.
"Thomas," Penelope said quietly, her voice chillingly calm.
"Shut up!"
"A stiletto heel tipped in real steel," Penelope whispered, "generates approximately two thousand pounds of pressure per square inch."
Before Thomas could process her words, Penelope slammed her steel-tipped heel straight down onto his foot with all her weight, crushing his toes.
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Thomas howled in agony, his grip slipping as his gun jerked upward.
Penelope drove her elbow back into his throat, spinning out of his grasp with flawless agility.
