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“There are skylights up here.” Joe again. “I’m going to scout, see if I can spot her.”
Dimitri pressed his back to the stucco wall. The cold was barely noticeable. He held his gun up as he spun and checked his line of sight through the smashed window. Empty. A minute later he was up and inside the old classroom. The walls were covered in graffiti, the furniture was long gone. Torn paper and leaves littered the floor.
“I’m in.” He made his way silently to the door.
“I’m in.” It was Grunt.
“Northwest sector,” came Joe’s voice. “I count four men. Running.”
There was gunfire. “Two men. Northeast sector.” Lake’s voice.
“I see her,” Joe again. “Northwest.”
“Lake?” Grunt asked.
“I’ve got this,” Lake barked. “Get Megan.”
Dimitri kept low, back to the wall, gun high as he headed in the direction of his woman.
Gunfire? Gunfire! The noise cut through Megan’s bruised brain, her thoughts dulled from where she’d hit her head on the floor after being struck. She was being dragged along the corridor, her hands secured behind her back. Durand wasn’t taking any chances—the man walked behind her. She smirked at that. Ahead of her were two other men. Four huge men, all carrying massive guns. Yeah. It didn’t look good escape-wise.
On the other hand, it sounded like she didn’t have to escape. It sounded like she was being rescued. Yay for her.
Durand muttered something behind her and she realised he was talking into a comms unit. She caught the words, two down, and grinned. Her team were here and they were cleaning house.
“Change direction,” Durand snapped. “West exit. They’re heading to the north. Fritz,” he shouted at a man in front of Megan. “Get the vehicle. Keep it running outside the west exit.”
The guy jogged off. Megan looked up at the monster holding her. His fingers dug into her arm hard enough to bruise. “Is his name really Fritz?” The guy’s eyes were dead. As in, nobody home. He just stared at her. “Really,” she said. “It’s no wonder he’s taken to a life of crime. There can’t be that many career options open to you when you’re called Fritz.”
A hand grabbed her ponytail and yanked until her neck felt like it was going to break. Tears leaked from her eyes at the pain. It felt like her hair was being ripped from her head. Why did guys always go for the hair?
“No talking, bitch.” Durand’s face was just as ugly upside down.
“Or what?” Megan asked. “You’re going to kill me? Not much of a threat if you plan to do it anyway.”
Shark eyes gleamed. “Kill you? You’ll wish you were dead. But no, I don’t plan to kill. Not at first.”
That wasn’t reassuring. “Seriously though, how’s your backside? Healing well?”
A knife tip pressed against her throat. “You keep talking and I’ll slice out your tongue.” Blood ran down her throat as the point broke skin. “Or,” he whispered against her ear in a dark parody of intimacy. “Maybe, I’ll leave your tongue and slice off your nipples. That way I can hear you scream my name when they’re removed.”
Megan swallowed back the bile that shot up her throat. There was no doubt he meant every word. His eyes were a flat pond. There was no emotion there, no sense of moral judgement, only a determination to get what he wanted.
A shot rang out ahead of them. Durand swore and the men jerked left into a classroom. She fell to the floor behind the door.
“Status?” Durand barked.
The guy who’d been holding her, crouched in front of her as she struggled to sit. His head was shaved bald and tattooed with Nazi symbols. Very attractive—not. His smile was a leer that oozed toxic waste. One hand curled around her throat and held tight, keeping her in place. His other hand covered her breast and squeezed hard, laughing when she winced. Big fingers grabbed her nipple and pinched until tears ran down her cheeks.
“I’ll make sure I get to play with these before the boss removes them.” He twisted his grip.
Megan gasped in pain as he tightened his hold on her throat and her breast. She struggled to breathe. White lights flickered in front of her eyes and she prayed she wouldn’t pass out. Being unconscious around these guys was not a good idea.
“You have…” She forced the words out. “A really…tiny…dick…don’t you?”
The hold on her throat tightened before Durand pulled him off her. Megan gasped, each breath painful. Her breast throbbed and she wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t. Not here. Not for them.
“Leave her.” Durand glanced down at her. “You can play later.”
