Slap of a folder on the desk.
He jolted awake and was instantly alert—
Hand stifling his breath as it clamped over his mouth.
He made a quick move for his gun, but another hand was faster. He looked up at the owner of the gun-reaching hand and saw a man he'd never seen before. It was clear he was under attack.
Wetness of his tongue against the stifling hand; however, it refused to budge.
He opened his mouth to try and speak through the cover of flesh, but the hand was removed and his own gun was jammed into it. Tried to turn his head away, but a second hand, from the person who had held his mouth captive, grabbed his chin and turned it back.
He looked at the stranger who had possession of his gun. Couldn't recall who it was at all, or why anyone would want to take him hostage.
Parker—
Tessa—
Bones—
Images of death flooding his brain: his blood and grey matter spattered on the wall behind him, face blown away into a gruesome caricature of death; jaw shattered, eyes obliterated.
Unwanted face makeover.
The gun-holding hand had a glove.
Suicide.
The face-holding hand had a glove.
Would they notice the red marks around his throat?
Unwanted face makeover would cut them out.
"You sentenced my partner to death, you son of a bitch," the gun-holding stranger hissed.
Fetid, evil breath.
"Now I'm sentencing you to death."
Click of the hammer.
Gun cocked and loaded.
Death pressing in on him.
Brown eyes a mess in a bloody face—
Booth looked straight into the stranger's eyes.