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“Don’t you worry,” the other man jeered, his double chin wobbling unattractively. “You’ll get your turn.” He returned his focus to Bindi, licking his lips and saying, “Now you’re gonna know what it’s like to have a real man between your legs.”
“Hey,” Mack said, louder this time. Still on his knees, he picked up a rock with his left hand and ditched it at the man. It missed its mark, which’d been the spot right between his eyes, but struck the man on the shoulder, instead. Not a bad shot, considering. Then Mack hauled his good foot out in front, balancing for a second on one knee, until he pulled himself to standing. The other man didn’t know about Mack’s ankle. If he could bluff him long enough, it might give Bindi a chance to break free.
“Bindi,” he yelled. “Bindi, do something. Don’t let this asshole win.”
Bindi turned her head to look at him, but otherwise, didn’t move.
Come on, he pleaded silently.
“Bindi, you can do this. Get up. Move,” he implored. “Please. Do it for me.”
The other man got to his feet, and pulled up his jeans, the gun in his right hand.
Mack swayed on his feet, putting as little weight as possible on his injured foot, but hopefully making it look like he was about to make a charge at the man with the gun. If he could just distract him long enough…
Bindi twitched, and then sat up as if suddenly coming back to life. Like an internal switch had been turned back on.
Elation surged through him. She was listening to him. Fighting back.
“Mack, don’t,” Bindi squeaked, terror flooding through her beautiful, brown eyes. “He’ll kill you,” she warned.
“Yes, I will,” the man confirmed, raising the gun and pointing it at Mack. Which was exactly what he wanted him to do. Paunchy Man wasn’t real bright, was he? Because if the gun was pointed at him, then it wasn’t pointed at Bindi.
Mack sought her gaze, fixed his eyes on her face. Run, he pleaded silently. Just get out of here. He’d dragged her into this whole sorry mess. The least he could do was to offer his life to let her gain her freedom. Bindi’s eyes went wide as sudden understanding flooded through her. But instead of relief, her lips pursed in determination. No. What was she thinking? She needed to run. Mack took a step forward, forgetting for a second about his ankle, he was so intent on her. But his step-hop became more of a stumble and the fat man laughed.
“You can’t even walk, can you?” The man leered at him, showing a missing tooth. “Like I said, I’ll get to you in a min—”
The man’s words were cut off as he landed heavily on the ground, butt first. Bindi had taken him out at the knees, sweeping her feet low and catching him behind the soft spot in the middle of his legs. But Bindi didn’t stop there, she scrambled up and punched the guy full in the face, blood spurting out of his nose. Her move took him so much by surprise, the fat man howled in pain and covered his face with both hands, forgetting he still held the gun in one hand, so that it clashed against his cheekbone and he let out another howl of pain. While the thug fumbled with the gun, trying to get it pointed in the right direction, Bindi kicked it out of his hand, where it landed close to Mack. With a supreme effort, Mack conquered his pain and dizziness enough to bend down and retrieve the gun.
“Maybe I should push you down the shaft instead,” she growled.
That was his brave girl. He was so proud of her, he could almost burst. He watched with interest to see if she would indeed follow through with her threat, holding the gun by his side. The threat of it should be enough to keep the other man compliant.
Bindi glared so hard at the man, Mack thought he might well burst into flames. “But I won’t,” she finally said, and retrieved some of the twine she’d used to make a harness for Madonna and bound his hands behind his back, tying his feet, as well.
Then she stood and smiled at Mack, a smile so bright and triumphant, his heart leapt into his throat. That was it, they’d won. She was safe, and so was he.
Mack collapsed in a heap on the ground, his legs no longer able to hold his weight.
