Jack Hardy The Legacy Returns

004 Bullet for the Bitch

Juliet was overcome with conflicting emotions. She had miraculously escaped fatal gunfire from the assassins— and yet Jack still held her firmly in his lap, with a romantic intimacy she had never experienced with a man before.

"Get your hands off me!" Juliet snapped at him, struggling like a fish out of water. He chuckled and let her go.

The young heiress's first inclination was to scamper out of the vehicle. However, Jack's piercing gaze and heavy hand on her shoulder rooted her in place.

"Stay inside no matter what," he told her, stepping out himself. "It's a bulletproof car. Don't be stupid again."

"Are you crazy?" Juliet grabbed his arm, digging her nails into his muscular biceps. "You'll get killed! My bodyguards signed up to die for me, but you have nothing to gain from being a martyr!"

He gave her a quick, confident grin. "Trust me, darling. Your hubby has this handled."

Before she could argue more, he slipped out of the Bentley and closed the door behind him. The assassins, still dressed in police uniforms, immediately swung their weapons towards him.

Jack surveyed the scene calmly. Fourteen enemies, and none of them were common street thugs. They were professional, trained killers, paid to ambush the Forbes motorcade.

Juliet's sudden disappearance had rattled them for a minute, but now they had gathered their composure again.

"Who the fuck are you!" the leader barked, his gun aimed straight at Jack's chest. "Ask your mistress to stop hiding and come out!"

The young man stretched his arms lazily above his head, his ripped muscles flexing under the gray T-shirt. "You guys picked a bad time to disturb me. I was in the middle of a romantic moment with my fiancée."

One of the other assassins chuckled, thinking this man was crazy. He didn't waste time and fired three shots in quick succession. "Die!"

Jack's body moved too fast, disappearing from his position. The bullets slammed harmlessly into the road, sending puffs of dust into the air.

One moment he was standing far from his enemies; the next he was up close in a blur of motion.

Jack's hand shot out in a casual flick, twisting the man's arm at an odd angle. The gun clattered to the ground as Jack landed a palm strike to his chest.

The shooter was lifted off his feet, crashing backward into two of his buddies with a yelp. Inside the Bentley, Juliet had her face pressed to the window, her beautiful features twisted in shock and fear.

"This can't be real," she whispered to herself. "How is he fighting like that?" The man she had mocked as a loser was moving like an action movie hero.

More assassins opened fire on Jack. He ducked under the stream of bullets with blinding speed, his body bending in ways that defied physics.

He came up right in front of a shooter and delivered a sharp kick to the knee. The leg buckled with a sickening snap, and as the man fell, Jack grabbed him by the collar and threw him like a rag doll into the side of the overturned truck.

Two came at him from the front with tactical knives, while another tried to circle from behind. Jack's thoughts were calm, almost bored.

The young man sidestepped the first one's knife jab, grabbed the arm, and used the man's own momentum to slam him into his partner.

His movements were carefree and almost playful. As the two staggered back, Jack followed with two rapid strikes—an elbow to the jaw and a knee to the stomach. The men dropped like stones.

The one behind him fired his gun. Jack heard the shot and reacted instantly, dropping low and sweeping his leg in a wide arc.

The assassin's feet were knocked out from under him, and before he could hit the ground, Jack was above him, landing a fatal elbow drop.

He moved through the group like a ghost, his speed leaving afterimages in the flashing lights.

Juliet's heart was in her throat. Every time a gun was pointed at Jack, she felt a strange twist in her chest.

This was the same guy who had agreed to a marriage contract for cash and luxury. Now he was out there risking everything for her.

*Why is he doing this? He doesn't even know me.*

Only one assassin remained standing—the leader who had been coordinating the attack. He looked nervous now, as Jack stood in the middle of the road without having broken a sweat.

The leader suddenly lunged for Juliet's chauffeur. He wrapped an arm around the elderly man's neck and pressed the gun to his temple.

"Come out, Juliet Forbes, or the old man dies!" he shouted towards the Bentley. "Stop hiding inside the bulletproof car while your people get knocked off! If you surrender, I won't kill you — only take you hostage."

Jack crossed his arms, standing a safe distance away. Inwardly, he laughed at the assassin's stupidity. Rich heiresses like Juliet Forbes don't trade themselves to rescue their ageing servants.

To his surprise, the door of the Bentley opened slowly.

Juliet stepped out into the open, her hands raised above her head. Her long, dark hair moved slightly in the breeze, her expensive coat elegantly hugging her slender figure.

"Let him go, please," she begged. "Henry has been with the Forbes family for thirty-five years. I won't let him die for me. Take me hostage."

The old chauffeur's eyes widened in horror. "Miss Juliet, no! Get back in the car! My life has no value compared to yours!"

Jack was genuinely surprised. This wasn't the haughty, spoiled CEO who had looked down on him in the cafe. This was a woman willing to risk her life for her old driver.

The assassin cackled maniacally, realizing his simple plan had worked. He had never wanted to take Juliet hostage—his only objective was to kill her. He shoved the chauffeur roughly to the side and swung his gun towards her.

"Stupid rich bitch," he snarled and pulled the trigger. "Die!"

Juliet winced, expecting to be shot, but instead something odd happened. The assassin's gun erupted in his hand.

The man screamed in agony, dropping to the ground as blood poured from his mangled hand and face. He twitched once and lay still.

Juliet gasped and staggered back, turning her head to look at Jack for answers. He stood there, completely calm, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

His right index finger, however, seemed to be smoking and blackened with soot.

Casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world, Jack brought the finger to his lips and blew on it, sending a small puff of smoke into the air.

Juliet stood frozen, her eyes searching for an explanation but falling short. What just happened?