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Rubbing his hand up and down his baby daughter's back, John Smith placed a soft kiss to Antoinette's crown. 'I'll put her down,' he said quietly to his wife.
Jane Smith nodded as she left father and daughter making their way up the stairs. Entering the kitchen, she placed the bottle on the bench and opened a drawer.
Sensing movement behind her, she swiftly reached into the drawer and brought forth a gun. It was trained on the intruder in seconds. 'Who are you and what do you want?'
The man was clad in black, a balaclava over his face as he stepped into the moonlit room. There was confidence in his step. 'I think you know.'
'I think I don't,' declared Jane, firing a warning shot that sunk into the tiles exactly five centimetres above the unwanted visitor's head.
The silencer dulled the noise, but as the man ducked a concerned call came down the stairs. 'Everything alright down there honey?'
'Everything's just fine sweetie,' Jane replied, as the man charged toward her. Easily trapping him, she maintained a calm voice. 'Put the baby to bed.'
When John Smith came into the kitchen ten minutes later, he saw a man trussed up on the floor and his wife calmly sipping a cup of coffee. 'Problem?'
'Made a little mess,' replied Jane as she stepped over the prone body – her foot accidentally slipping and making contact with the intruder's abdomen.
'A little one?' asked John incredulously watching as the trapped man jerked away from his wife's foot, before said woman wrapped her arms around his neck.
'Mm,' Jane confirmed, pressing a kiss to his lips. 'And by the way, I think it's time the Smith family went on a little holiday.'