“Ahhh! You—” He finished with a swift, reflexive backhand, landing me sprawled back on the ground, a tangle of arms and legs. A cry of shocked pain escaped me, my hair flying about my face in a blinding screen. Ranger was busy hopping up and down cursing, so I blindly closed my hand around a fistful of gravel ready to fling it in his face the moment he touched me.
Didn’t have to wait long, because he immediately reached over—with less care than a cowboy does a steer he’s roped and tethered—and grabbed me. “You’re going to regret that, young—”
I hurled the gravel in his face.
“Mother—fffoot!” He furiously spat on the ground.
I didn’t hesitate. I ran for it again—four fast steps—into another set of arms. Then started screaming my head off and was instantly rewarded by a couple of lights blinking on. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? A large muzzle clamped over my mouth. I strained and squirmed and screamed while muscled bands enfolded me tightly.
A low, soothing voice said, “It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”
Sure . . . that’s what they all say.
“Speak for yourself,” Ranger spat out, along with some gritty dirt. “You got her?” He began furiously rubbing at his eyes.
I tried screaming again, but it was hopelessly muffled by the hand sealing my lips shut.
“I got her,” he confirmed. “You drive. We’d better get outta here before someone calls the cops.”
I redoubled my efforts to get free again. Mama told me to never ever let someone take you off in their car. To fight to the death if you had to, because once they took you away to a secondary location, it was all over for you. The second attacker yelped as the back of my head made contact with his face.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” He loosened his grip enough for me to bite down on his hand. “Ow! Stop biting me!” His curses assaulted my ears while his fingers resealed my lips.
A barking cackle erupted from Ranger, who was sitting back watching the struggle with cold amusement. “I told you she was a hellcat.”
“Yeah, well . . . you didn’t have to hit her.”
“She’s lucky that’s all I did—she kicked the bejeezus out of me with her friggin’ cowboy boot!” Ranger whined, rubbing at his shin.
“No wonder she’s spooked out of her mind . . . the way you went after her. There’s no calming her down now.” With that said, my captor used the full force of his strength to carry me, kicking and screaming, into the truck.
To my utter bewilderment, he didn’t bind and gag me and throw me in the back. Instead, he somehow managed to hoist us both into the passenger seat, with me fighting him tooth and nail. But since he only had my arms pinned, my legs were still thrashing about like a lobster fighting the pot. I planted my boots on the doorframe, keeping my legs ramrod straight to prevent him from shutting the door.
My captor huffed out a chuckle. “A little help, please.”
Ranger barked out another exasperated laugh before removing my boots from the door and shoving them inside. I tried to kick him in the head, but he ducked.
“Unbelievable. We should’ve left her in the alley for the dogs—that poor bastard never had a chance anyway.” Ranger slammed the door and stalked around to the driver’s side, shaking his head and cursing. The headlights glinted off his glossy black head, spotlighting the blood on his mouth. Unnaturally blue eyes glared at me through the windshield.
My heart seized in my chest. I’d swear I’d seen those eyes before—before the diner.
And then another door closed, shutting off the memory flash. It seemed especially ominous to me under the circumstances—a final nail in my coffin. A sob tore from my throat. The fight was over. They’d won. I’d lost. Again. The Hummer gunned down the street, tires squealing in protest, the driver obviously taking his frustrations out on the road. Where are they taking me? Once we got there they could do with me as they pleased, as thy surely would. These were two guys who clearly always got what they wanted.
And for some inexplicable reason they wanted me.
And then I started crying, inconsolably, washing my abductor’s hand in tarry tears as he held me to him. All I could hear for a long while were the sniffling sobs leaving my body and the roaring engine driving us down dark, empty streets of the deserted town. My thoughts flew wildly around in my head: What do they want with me? What are they doing here? How did they know how to find me? My heart palpitated in rhythm to the questions. We went a few more empty miles in silence, each of us absorbed in our thoughts.
Suddenly, all the fight drained out of me like milk from an over-turned bucket. I quit struggling and slumped over. My aching muscles relaxed. In turn, his hand relaxed enough to allow a long, shuttering sigh to leak out. Closing my eyes, I leaned into him for support instead of fighting him.
The one holding me captive immediately responded again by readjusting me so that I was tucked up securely under his chin, my head now resting against his chest. I could hear the pounding of his heart and feel his slow, sure breath caress my face. It was calming—too calming. I felt an unexpected shift in my body’s responses. Breathing in deeply, I inhaled the masculine scent wafting from his neck. He smelled . . . like heaven. Some kind of intoxicating mix of expensive aftershave, healthy sweat, and good old-fashioned pheromones. At this point, I wasn’t sure I wanted to get away. Strangely, I felt protected by his solid frame, almost as if my nightmare had finally come to an end.
My God! Am I losing my marbles? Already suffering from Stockholm syndrome?
A flare of defiance bloomed in my chest—I refused to be such an easy mark for these two egomaniacs! I stiffened my resolve, and my muscles again, planting my boots against the dashboard to press back hard and crack his face with the back of my head.
“Oh, no you don’t!” He anticipated my move as soon as I stiffened back up, quickly wrapping his leg around my shins so that my feet dropped back to the floor. “I thought all the fight finally left you,” he said, sounding more amused than angry.
Ranger snorted. “Don’t let her loose for one second, Pete. I would say she’s completely outmatched here, but I don’t believe even Tyson could take her down tonight.”
I dared a peek and noticed, with grim satisfaction, that both abductors appeared a little worse for the wear. I wasn’t the only one battered and bruised by our encounter—at least I had that. Ranger was busy blotting his lip with a paper napkin, and the one named Pete was bleeding all over my new shirt. I must have busted his nose when I head-butted him. A quake of fear at all the awful things they could do to me in retaliation overcame me.
“She’s shaking like a leaf,” Pete said, sounding concerned now. He folded me into him and began murmuring in my ear.
The first stirrings of hope began to rise in my chest. Could they not be meaning to do me harm? I wasn’t sure of anything yet, but my intuition was telling me that the one holding me captive in his arms wasn’t going to hurt me . . . Besides, Pete didn’t sound like much of a serial-killer name. I snorted at that thought, on the edge of hysteria again.
“What are you doing over there? Choking her?” Amusement from Ranger.
“I’m going to let her go, so she can breathe better,” warned Pete.