Kayla turned around slowly to face her nemesis. "I wondered when you were going to show up."
He looked at the scene, "So, faking a heart attack?"
"Buys me another couple of hours to get away. Since it looks like natural causes, that will usually delay the autopsy. I'll take whatever advantage I can get," Logan answered arrogantly.
"Well, Kayla, I've tried to do this the easy way, but you leave me no choice," Eliot Spencer had stood in the shadows, light from the desk lamp illuminated his face. He was dressed in solid black from head to toe. The long-sleeved t-shirt clung tightly to a firm chest and muscular arms. The black cargo pants molded to his hips and faded into black Army boots. Even his hair was covered with a black knit cap. And, she couldn't help but smile, as much at the situation as to the fact that Eliot was still a damn fine-looking man.
"No, Eliot, I have no choice. We've been over this. This is my job. This is what I do," she explained.
"Not tonight."
If possible, her smile got even broader, "What are you going to do, Eliot? Hit me?" She shook her head, "Didn't think you hit girls?"
He returned the smile, "Not unless they hit first. And, since we both know you're no girl and you plan on landing a few punches of your own…" Eliot trailed off.
"That hurts but you're right." Kayla looked at her watch, "Alright. Enough talk. If we're going to dance, let's dance." Putting the hypo down on the nightstand, Logan kicked off her shoes and walked towards Spencer.
The Hitter took a step back, holding his hands out in front of him. He waved her forward with open palms, "Bring it on."
The team could hear the fight. It was brutal…vicious…and hard to believe it was happening between two people who were supposedly married. Well, maybe not that last part. They exchanged blows, each one delivering painful shots to the other. Eliot knew Kayla had cracked a rib and dislocated a couple of his fingers. Logan was certain she, too, had at least, bruised ribs. Spencer had also taken potshots at her knee, knowing Kayla had injured it on one of their missions, what seemed like, eons ago. She had gotten one more kick into Eliot's chest that had staggered him backwards, landing him close to the bed and his hidden weapon.
Kayla scrambled forward grabbing the syringe so she could administer the fatal dose. She wasn't counting on what she now saw. Eliot faced her once again, breathing hard from their fight. Only this time, he held a small-caliber handgun leveled at her chest. He had to give it to Kayla, if she was surprised, she hid it well. The only sign of distress was her own labored breathing.
"You don't like guns, Eliot."
"You're right, I don't like them. Doesn't mean I don't know how to use them.
"You're not going to shoot me. You've changed. You're not that man anymore."
"So everyone keeps telling me and yet, here I stand, with a gun firmly in my possession and aimed," he paused for effect, "at you."
"Once upon a time, yeah, you could have done it. Would have done it." She shook her head, "I've looked into the eyes of killers. You don't have it in you, Eliot. Not anymore." She looked down at Dominguez and then to the syringe in her hand, "But I do." She raised her hand to jam the needle into her target and then jerked as two gunshots echoed through the room. The Leverage team froze in their places when they heard the noise, just as surprised as Kayla that Eliot had fired.
Kayla Logan dropped the hypo and clutched at her chest. As she staggered to her knees and fell forward, the last thing she saw was the face of a man that she had obviously underestimated. And, it had cost her. Eliot caught Kayla before she hit the floor.