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Unlike Mateo, or even Niko for that matter, this manlookslike a killer. He’s not a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He’s just a wolf, teeth barred, the snarl on his face enough to make even the bravest person quiver in fear.
He’s older than a lot of the men I’ve seen. I’d say he’s at least in his mid-fifties. He’s a short, stumpy man with overgrown salt and pepper hair and a scar that runs from the corner of his right eye all the way down to his jawline.
“Thought you could run away, did you?” He lets out an angry chuckle seconds before his free hand tangles in my hair.
Strands rip and tear as he drags me from the boat, dropping me hard onto my knees.
“Mateo is on his way.” I don’t realize there’s another person until I hear the second voice. I glance up, watching the second man make his way down the dock toward us. This man is younger. Younger than me, if I had to guess. And even through my blinding fear and the pain throbbing through my scalp, I wonder what could ever make someone that looks like him, a run of the mill, average everyday boy, get involved with people like this.
“Good.” The older man tugs my hair tighter, forcing my face to look at him. “You hear that? You’ve really gotten yourself into a mess now, haven’t you?” He smiles, like he’s really enjoying himself.
I thought I was going to get away. For a brief moment I thought maybe I could do it. Not that I had any idea what direction to go or where I’d find help. But none of that mattered. I would escape and figure out the rest as I went. Yet it would appear as though this man had me pegged from the moment my feet hit the dock.
I never stood a chance.
“Get up.” He forces me to my feet by my hair. The gun is still securely latched in his hand.
My legs tremble as I try to stand but I have trouble finding my footing. The man doesn’t care. He takes off down the dock, his fingers still tangled in my hair as he drags me alongside him.
I meet the younger man’s gaze as we pass and I can tell he wants to say something, but for reasons I probably couldn’t even begin to understand, he keeps his mouth shut and watches as the other man forcefully pulls me into the sand.
Once there, he releases my hair and I stumble backward a couple of paces. I’ve barely recovered my balance before his hand is around my face, squeezing so hard around my jaw that I swear it might crack into pieces at any moment.
“Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” He leans in so close that his foul breath invades my nose and mouth, causing my eyes to water.
“Let go of me.” I muster all the strength I can to try to pull his hand off my face.
A deep laugh rumbles through his chest at my failed attempt.
I was right. Heisenjoying this.
Without a moment to think it through, I raise my knee as hard as I can, connecting with the man’s thigh rather than his groin. It’s enough that he releases his hold on my face, but once I catch his expression I know that I’ve only made this situation a hell of a lot worse for myself.
I watch his hand lift as if it were moving in slow motion. My eyes track it as it travels through the air. Yet, I can’t seem to move quick enough to escape it.
His closed fist connects with my cheekbone as he backhands me. The blow causes my teeth to chatter as it knocks me backward. I stumble, landing in the sand. I roll onto my side in an effort to get up, but he kicks me... Hard. The side of his massive boot connects with the lower part of my ribcage, my stomach taking the hardest impact.
All the air leaves my body in one swift motion.
I gasp, trying to pull in a breath. The hit to my face is a distant memory as the pain in my abdomen and the burning in my lungs takes the forefront.
“Stupid bitch.” He towers over me.
I curl inward, trying to protect myself.
I see his leg move and know that another kick is coming. I brace for the impact, squeezing my eyes shut.
And that’s when I hear the sound of a gun cocking for the second time this evening.
This is it. This is how I’m going to die.
Only when I peek one eye open, I realize it’s not me the barrel is pointing at.
Niko’s nostrils flare as he holds the gun to the back of the man’s head.
“Touch her again and I pull the fucking trigger,” he warns, his voice so grave that I wouldn’t have even recognized it if I hadn’t seen his mouth move.
The man drops his gun in the sand before lifting both of his hands to either side of his head.
