TYRELL
Tyrell's gun was already up, trained on James’s chest. "Move and I'll kill you."
"No, you won't." James’s smile widened. "Not while you're standing so close to her. Bullets have a funny way of going through people."
Tyrell's mind raced. The staircase was narrow. No cover. James had the high ground or rather, the low ground. Better angle.
They were trapped.
"Ziva." Tyrell kept his voice steady. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head slightly. Her hand gripped the back of his tactical vest, trembling.
James tilted his head, studying them like specimens. "She's fine. Better than fine. We've been getting to know each other. Haven't we, darling?"
Ziva didn't answer.
Tyrell's finger tightened on the trigger. "If you've touched her..."
James laughed. "I have every right to. She's my
