Page 115 of Under His Guard

Do anything. Anything to keep him away from her.

“Oh, yeah, and what big men you must be to go after a woman and her kid. Real tough.”

It works, and Marco snaps his attention back to me.

As he does, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.

The loss of focus doesn’t allow me to prepare for the blow coming for my nose, and Marco swings down, shoving my face toward the ground with the effort.

My eyes water as the pain screams at me, and I have to spit another mouthful of blood onto the cement.

I don’t immediately pull my head up, letting it hang because fuck, I’m ready to pass out right now.

From there, however, I can see Clara working harder to free herself from the ropes.

She’s thin, perspiration making her slender wrists more slippery, and she’s already made it a few inches.

I need to distract Marco, keep his focus here.

A rough grip cuts through my internal calculations, and Marco hauls my head up. I still let it hang there, and I feel warm blood seep down my nose and to my mouth.

It’s definitely broken. Good thing you know a doctor.

“Where are they, Shaw? I’m getting impatient.”

My head swims, making everything sound slow and off.

“Timbuktu, fuckface. No, wait, Zimbabwe. Yeah, that’s it. Go fetch, mutt.”

With a searing yank, my neck is craned backward as Marco forces me to look at him.

“You know, I’ve been nice.” He slams the heel of his shoe into the bullet graze on my thigh; fire explodes through my veins, and I know the steady blood loss is worse now. “Fucking. Talk. Now.”

Another blow to the face, his foot still squeezing down on the slash through my leg.

I’m too close to passing out. This isn’t good.

Crack!

The loud snap of wood against something just as hard cuts through the haze surrounding me, and I look up to see Clara standing behind Marco.

She’s holding a broken piece of pallet in her grip, and he’s stumbling to his knees, his head bleeding.

Clara lets him have it again, and Marco drops like a sack of potatoes.

“Oh God. Okay.” She drops the wood, kneeling down by me and holding my face in her hands. “Shit, yeah. Your nose is broken. We need to get out of here. Hold on.”

She’s out of my eyeline then, and I have to struggle through several breaths to clear my head.

It loosens my tongue, almost like being drunk.

“Damn. That was hot as hell, doc. Fuck, I’m in pain.”

There’s silence for a hair too long, and my pulse quickens. Where is she?

Chapter 37

Clara

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