Piers stood between her and Novalight’s agent, the laser dot still there and trained on the back of his head now. The sight of it made her stomach flip over. Piers gripped the knife wielder’s forearm. He squeezed so hard the man grimaced. A second later, Sophie heard a crack.

The hired gun gasped. “Holy… Fuck!”

“Come after her again, and I’ll break your neck instead,” Piers growled. He threw her assailant six feet using nothing but one hand and the man’s mangled forearm.

Sophie’s jaw dropped. People all around them screamed and scattered. She didn’t know whether to be impressed or horrified. She decided on impressed. Who needed Thor? She had a freaking gladiator protecting her.

Piers turned to her just as the dreaded shot finally rang out. He winced and grabbed his shoulder.

She lunged for him and pulled him down beside her. “Are you hurt?”

“Not much.” He shoved her in front of him and propelled her along the barrier, both of them keeping low as they ran away from the ice rink and melted into the crowd as soon as possible.

“I’m looking at that not much back at the room.” Her breath came hard and fast, the cold air stinging her lungs as they fled Rockefeller Center.

They should never have left the hotel. First, it was to eat, but she could’ve ordered room service, even at the exorbitant prices. Holiday sparkle definitely wasn’t required for the body to function. Neither were croissants. She’d just wanted one.

Sophie hated herself and her choices as they sped back to their room. She’d decided to play tour guide in the middle of a crisis, and Piers got shot for it. Shot! This wasn’t a game. And this wasn’t her life. Her life was teaching French to semi-motivated high-school students, cooking moussaka with her mother who lived practically next door, and streaming too many TV shows.

“This isn’t my life,” she said aloud. “It can’t be.”

Piers slowed at the revolving door to their hotel, pulled her through with him, and dragged her into the lobby. His new jacket had a hole in it. She touched the dark material, finding it hot and wet. Blood. Spots swam in Sophie’s vision.

“Easy now.” Piers swept her into his arms. He kicked the button for the elevator. Kicked it! Still holding her, he strode into the first box that opened, elbowed the knob for the twelfth floor, and waited, hardly even breathing hard while she hyperventilated.

“You’ve been shot,” she panted.

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm?” Sophie tried to slip out of Piers’s arms, but his grip tightened. “We need to go to a hospital!”

“If this hospital is an eating establishment with meat, then I agree. Otherwise, we’re going back to the room to look at the Shard of Olympus.”