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The distinctive sound of the blade slicing through fabric had her trembling. She refused to open her eyes and see herself exposed to these assholes.
“Fuck you!” Mav screamed. His chair teetered back and forth, making a sound rivaling gunshots in the room.
Her bra was next, sliced at the center. Then Lobo’s hand was on her bare skin.
Stephanie couldn’t keep the sob in any longer. It burst from her in a choked mix of fear and desperation.
“I’m gonna use that knife on your fucking dick, Lobo!” Maverick screamed.
A loud clattering had Stephanie’s eyes flying open.
Mav lay on the ground, still bound to the chair. Pain was etched across his face, but he continued to struggle like a madman as he tried to inch his way over to her.
“Get him up,” Lobo barked. “Fucking silence him.”
They righted Mav, who continued to holler, spit, and curse at Lobo. Digger punched Mav in the face. It was as though her husband didn’t even feel it. He thrashed and shouted like a man possessed.
Another punch had blood pouring from his nose.
“Mav!” she cried. “Stop! Leave him alone. Mav, I’m okay. I can handle it.”
Who the hell knew if that was true, but she’d say damn near anything to keep them from hurting him.
She understood the genius of Lobo’s plan. It wouldn’t be long before one of them was desperate enough to do what he wanted to save the other.
Goddammed sadistic psycho.
Mav ignored her, taking punch after punch and continuing to spew hatred at their captors. Damn stubborn fool did it to keep their attention off her.
Lobo watched, laughing his fucking evil laugh. His hands grew bolder, groping and squeezing her. She barely noticed anymore, too concerned with what Maverick was enduring.
“Stop!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. The once quiet room now echoed with her and Maverick’s enraged screams.
“Pants are next,” Lobo whispered in her ear as he brandished the knife once again.
No!
She struggled, same as Maverick, wrenching her body in the chair. Fiery agony bit at the skin of her wrist and ankles.
Her gaze locked with Maverick’s. A mixture of fury and self-loathing stared back at her. He’d blame himself for not protecting her. Meanwhile, he’d kill himself trying.
“Stop, Mav,” she whispered, unable to shout anymore. “Close your eyes.”
“Stephanie!” he shouted.
The knife moved to the waistband of her pants.
“Close your eyes. Please.”
Grief filled Mav’s face.
“Please.”
“Such a tale of love,” Lobo said with a laugh.
“Fuck you!” Mav yelled.
“Pretty sure that’s what I’m about to do to your wife.”
Maverick roared a primal sound that chilled her to her bones. She’d remember it for the rest of her life, waking in the night to that animalistic cry.
With a loud bang, the door flew open.
Men flooded in.
Shouts came from every angle.
Stephanie’s head spun as she tried to process what was happening.
Guns were pointed, fists flew, and the noise reached unbearable.
Lobo’s hands left her body, making her cry out in intense relief.
“Steph first, Steph first,” Mav said, sounding frantic. She blinked her flooded eyes to find Tracker kneeling at her feet.
“You’re safe now, sweetheart,” he said in a soothing tone. “We’ve got you.”
“I-it’s over?”
“Yeah, honey. Let me get these ropes off so we can take you to your man.”
Action happened all around her, but all she could do was crane her neck to get a glimpse of Maverick. Curly and Scott stood between them, blocking her line of sight.
“Mav?” she called.
“Just a second, honey,” Tracker said. He had her feet freed quickly, then went to work on her hands.
The moment she felt the ropes give way, she jumped to her feet. Pain like she’d never felt shot up her legs, buckling her knees.
“Whoa! Easy there,” Tracker said. He caught her around the waist then swung her up into his arms, damsel-in-distress style.
She didn’t have enough brainpower left to be embarrassed. All her energy was focused on getting to Maverick.
With a few long strides, Tracker had her over to her husband, who was being lowered to the ground by Curly.
“Mav!” she shouted. It came out as more of a croak, probably due to all the screaming she’d been doing.
Curly moved out of the way while Tracker moved in. The man deposited her into Maverick’s arms as gently as if she were a newborn kitten.
Every muscle in her body hurt, but she paid it no attention.
“Fuck, baby,” Maverick said. “I love you.”
She wrapped her injured arms and legs around him tight as she possibly could. He returned the embrace with crushing ferocity, but she didn’t care.
“You are so fucking brave, baby,” he whispered to her. “So fucking brave, my Stephanie.”
His sweet words broke the tenuous dam containing her emotions. Burying her face in his neck, she let it all out in a torrent of loud sobs.
“There you go. Let it out.” He rubbed up and down her back in an awkward caress. Most likely, his hands and feet felt as messed up as hers. “We’re safe. It’s over now.”
