Cam jerked against the guards holding him. One rammed a vicious punch into his lower back.
Gritting his teeth, he rode through the pain. He’d had plenty of training and experience at it.
As long as they didn’t find Saskia, everything would be fine.
The two guards he’d killed were laid out by the disabled ATVs.
Mikhailov stepped forward.
He didn’t look quite as neat and put together as he usually did. He was bundled up in a thick coat, his face lined with stress.
“Where is the woman?” the man asked.
Cam didn’t make a sound.
Mikhailov’s face twisted. “My men know many ways to inflict pain.”
Cam just stared impassively.
“Hmm.” Mikhailov paced. “There is no need for your blood to spill, Mr. Morgan. Just tell me where she is.”
Cam waited him out. These assholes always liked the sound of their own voices.
Mikhailov grunted and waved a hand.
The third guard stepped in and punched Cam in the gut.
He groaned. That wasn’t fun.
“I know you’ve had military training. I promise you, it won’t help. My uncle was former FSB, or KGB as it was known in his time.” Mikhailov’s smile was slow. “I know lots of tricks.”
Cam just lifted his chin.
“You are a noble man.” Mikhailov nodded, like a friendly, understanding uncle. “You feel the need to protect women. I know you were in some secret American military team, but it won’t help you now. You’re all alone.”
“Secret team?” the American guard asked.
“I could not find all the information.” Mikhailov waved a hand. “Some rumors said it was called Ghost Ops.”
The American jerked. “Ghost Ops. Fuck.”
The guard blanched and Cam hid his satisfaction. You should be afraid.
“Do not worry,” Mikhailov said. “He is not so scary now.”
“Ghost Ops…they can do anything.” The American guard sounded shaken.
“Pfft, he is outnumbered.” Mikhailov stepped closer. “You can’t protect her from me. I will have her.”
“You can’t have her,” Cam said. “Because she’s mine. She’s been warming my bed, taking my cock. Mine. Always will be.”
Mikhailov growled. A vein in his temple throbbed. He turned to the guard beside him and took the man’s hunting knife.
“You should not have touched my dancer, Mr. Morgan.”
The older man ran the tip of the knife across Cam’s unscarred cheek. It stung.
“I think you need another scar here. Even things up.”
Cam forced himself to stay still.
“My uncle said the best way to convince people to talk is to keep things simple. Slice off an ear—” the knife moved past Cam’s ear, then down the side of his neck. “Nose. Or other vulnerable body parts.” The knife moved lower. Then Mikhailov jammed it against Cam’s genitals. He couldn’t help but jerk.
“No man wants to lose his cock and balls, Mr. Morgan. And out here, you’ll bleed to death.”
The knife pressed in harder. Cam made a choked noise.
“Where is she?”
Cam just stared, not uttering a sound.
“Take his pants off.” Mikhailov laughed. “I’ll start with his balls.”
Cam bucked, trying to fight the guard off as the man reached for his belt.
“Stop. Stop!”
No, dammit. His muscles solidified. “Saskia, no. Run.”
She crawled out from under the cabin, covered in dirt. She held her hands up, her face a mask of terror.
“Don’t hurt him,” she cried.
“Saskia.” Mikhailov turned to her. “Finally.” The man strode to her. “You’ve made my life very difficult.”
“Your life?” Her eyes sparked. “You kidnapped me, you shit-for-brains asshole. You’re a rapist.”
Mikhailov sucked in a breath.
“You think you’re special because you have lots of dirty money?” she continued. “The only way you can get a woman is to steal her, against her will. You are scum.”
Then he sank a hand into her hair and tugged. She cried out.
“Be quiet!” he snarled.
Cam jerked, and the two guards tightened their grip on him.
“I want payback.” Mikhailov lifted his other hand, yanked her coat’s zipper down, and reached inside to roughly paw at her breast.
Growling, Cam wrenched free, but the guards tackled him, driving him to the ground.
Two boots pressed into his back, keeping him pinned.
Mikhailov’s smile was smug and pleased.
“Now, I need to decide. Do I take you here, in the dirt, and make him watch? Or do I make you watch while I put a bullet in his brain?”
Saskia cried out.
Mikhailov took a handgun from one of his guards.
Fuck. Fuck. Cam tensed, his mind racing. He searched for a way out. If he died, Saskia would be left in Mikhailov’s hands. That was unacceptable.
He’d failed Kris, but there was no way he’d fail again. No way he’d fail Saskia.
He searched for any chance to attack.
But Saskia beat him to it.
She lunged and grabbed for the handgun.
She surprised the man, snatching it away from Mikhailov. She whirled, lifting it with both hands. She fired at the guards. The bullet came close to Cam, but thankfully hit one of his captors.
One guy dived away and the guy who’d been hit jerked back with a shocked yell. Cam broke free, rolled, and landed a hard kick to the other guard’s midsection.
The man flew back.
Cam leaped up and whirled. Saskia was playing tug-of-war with Mikhailov for the gun.
The other guard, the American, stood frozen, not sure what to do.
Cam attacked him. But he only got one hard punch in before the man recovered. They traded blows.
Then a gunshot echoed through the clearing.
Saskia.
Cam ducked, and landed another desperate hit. The guard doubled over with a grunt. Cam spun.
Mikhailov was clutching a bleeding arm. Saskia was still holding the gun.
“Get them!” Mikhailov screamed.
Cam raced toward Saskia. A guard tackled her. She hit the ground with a bone rattling force.
Cam kneed the man, but the guard with a bullet wound reappeared. He rammed the barrel of a gun into Cam’s lower back.
“Don’t move,” the man growled.
Freezing, Cam choked back a curse.
The other guard dragged a dazed Saskia to her feet. Her gaze met Cam’s.
There was defiance still there. He held her gaze.
“Blyad.” Mikhailov threw a hand up while his other one stayed pressed over the wound on his arm, blood oozing through his fingers. “Enough. She’s too much trouble.” He sniffed. “Kill them both.”
Chapter Nineteen
Saskia stumbled to Cam. He yanked her close and she clung to him.
His heat and strength were reassuring, but they had no weapons. Tears pricked her eyes. Blood was running down his arm.
Mikhailov’s remaining guards fanned out in front of them.
“I want them both dead,” Mikhailov roared. “Leave them here to rot, for the birds and the bears to pick at them.”