What started in Paris

Chapter 2: A raised gun Part 2

Chapter 2

"Stand down!" The blond shouts, trying to get a clean shot, but I knew that the only one he could get would be through me.

"No Declan, you stand down or I will shoot this girl, you know I will." The man says, his grey eyes boring into mine as he starts to walk slowly toward me, a small smirk spreading across his thin lips as I open my palms in defeat.

"Leave her out of this White, no need to make this any messier than it already is." The blond spats, not lowering his gun, thanks a lot.

As the man comes closer I notice that his thin shoulders are squared and he focuses on me instead of the men to my right, but I see just the smallest hint of nervousness in his eyes as he keeps looking past me where two guns are pointed at him. When his grey eyes are on mine again they're cold and lifeless, uncaring. I look down and I notice that his pants are covered in mud, as if he's been crawling around Paris

My skin pales even more as I feel the blood draining from my face; my instincts are telling me to run but my mind is screaming to stay still, so I close my eyes, willing myself to calm down before I do something rash. I breathe in and out slowly, opening my eyes when I hear the man behind me again shout, more desperate now, "Stand down White!"

White looks at him, then back at me. His lips pursing as he looks me over, buying himself time.

I swallow hard, struggling to keep my features expressionless, trying not to show him just how much I hate him as he closes the distance between us and puts the barrel of his gun to my forehead. The metal is cold and heavy, the click that rings in my ears as he cocks the gun sends a shiver down my spine and echoes through my mind.

"Last chance Declan, are you going to let me go or do you want the death of this woman on your conscious?"

I can't see what the man does but he the gun is slowly taken away from my forehead, but he doesn't lower it as he slowly starts to back away. I take in a sharp breath as I watch as he starts to run, but in an instant I'm nocked off my feet so hard I feel like I've just been hit by a truck. As I'm falling I hear two guns shots echo off the buildings around us.

My ears are ringing and I swallow down a scream as the sensation of falling stops and I slam into the hard cobblestone, skidding backwards a bit and feeling the rough stones tear into my back, hearing something break beneath my shoulder, inserting its self into the torn flesh. My head hit the ground too hard, making me feel light headed and sticky as I feel blood leaking slowly down my neck. The weight on my chest lifts and I can finally breathe again but I'm in too much pain to sit up.

"Are you okay?" I hear someone ask but I can't focus enough to answer.

I blink my eyes a few times, trying to focus, but my vision is turning foggy; all I see is the outline of a man's face hovering over me, shouting something but all I hear is the ringing in my ears as the world starts to spin around me. I close my eyes once more and when I open them things slowly start to come into focus again.

"Are you hurt?" The man is screaming once again, but I really just want to shut him up so I can clear my thoughts; seeing that is not happening I shake my head slightly and that little bit of movement sends my head spinning again.

"Where are you hurt?" He shouts again.

"Dude, I'm like three inches from you, I can hear you just fine." I say, holding a hand up near his mouth.

"Fine. Where are you hurt?" He asks quitter, as he keep glancing behind me.

"My shoulder, I think I landed on some glass." I say, feeling the sharp pain in my shoulder, the nonsensible side of me wanting to just close my eyes and pretend this isn't happening.

"It's going to be okay, but you have to sit up now." He says and puts his hand firmly on my back and forces me to sit up, causing me to let out a grunt through gritted teeth.

"Thanks so much for being gentle." I say sarcastically but force myself to lean on him anyway when I start to feel more light headed; fearing falling backwards again. He shakes his head and I feel him examining my shoulder as I look over his. Finding the copper headed man on the ground, bleeding from two bullet wounds in his leg, but he's alive.

"We need to get her out of here before the police start swarming." The blond who had been shouting says.

"She's injured Declan, we can't just throw her out somewhere." The man supporting me says, defensibly.

"She wasn't shot how can she be injured?" This 'Declan' person asks, unbelieving.

"When I knocked her out of the way she landed on a glass bottle, most of which is imbedded in her shoulder at the moment, and she must have hit her head as well because it's bleeding and she's disoriented. She could very likely have a concussion."

The man he called Declan sighs and I bite my lip, willing myself to not freak out about how badly he thinks I'm injured. Where am I supposed to go to get this fixed anyway? I'm alone in Paris and the nearest hospital will take long enough to find let alone to treat me. I swallow back the lump in my throat and lean more on him, feeling a cold sweat creep over me.

"Where are you staying?" Declan asks me, squatting down to meet my eyes.

"La Elyees." I say quietly, trying to pronounce the name correctly, hoping that maybe they would be able to find that godforsaken hotel that had gotten me in this mess in the first place.

"Who else is staying there?" He asks again.

I try to think that one over, is it really advisable to tell a bunch of thugs that I'm here alone? But they at least seem to be the good thugs at the moment and I would really like for someone to take all of this glass out of my skin before I bleed to death.

"No one else." I finally say watching as the two men exchange a look before turning back to me.

"You're here alone?" The man I'm leaning on asks, his dark eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes." I say hesitantly, not knowing why it would mean anything to him.

Declan nods, as if talking himself into something. "Ok, grab a med kit and take her back to her hotel room; treat her there. The last thing we need is someone finding out we're here."

As he walks away the man supporting me looks down at me, his eyes soft.

"We're going to stand up okay, just stay with me." He says, supporting me by the waist and pulling me up with him as I swallow down my groan of pain. He shrugs off his leather jacket and puts it around my shoulders to hide the bleeding; holding onto my waist tighter as I lean into him as he guides me across the small park and out to another street.