the gritty cement with an oddly loud clatter. Jake kicked it away even as his grip on the wrist tightened painfully. He glided forward a pace, turning as he did so, and delivered a vicious kick to the groin. With a breathless gasp, Baseball Cap fell to his knees, his free hand cupping his injured area. Beneath the rim of his cap, the man’s face went starkly white under the blood dripping from his broken nose.
Jake swiftly searched him. Unlike Katarzyna, he didn’t have any handcuffs on him. Making do, Jake unceremoniously lifted the other man, shoved him against a wall, sealed a hand over his mouth and, without flinching, very efficiently, very dispassionately, twisted the captured wrist until he heard something snap. The howl of pain was muffled.
Jake kept his hand clamped over Baseball Cap’s mouth until the sounds died down to the whimpers of an injured animal. When he loosened his grip, the other man slid down the wall to huddle on the ground, cradling the broken wrist against his chest.
Jake bent down, ripped off the baseball cap and bored into the other man’s eyes with his own. “Let’s talk.”
Minutes later, a ball of ice in place of his gut, Jake reached for his cell phone, keyed in ten digits and, since the connection wasn’t secure, left a brief message in a tone with barely leashed fury and fear. “She’s here.”
* * * * *
Katarzyna’s body was heavy with a lethargy that didn’t encourage movement. It took more effort than it should’ve to lift her head and straighten her aching neck. Her arms were tingling with numbness. She tried to draw them forward—and heard the familiar rattling of metal on metal.
God, she hoped the handcuffs weren’t her own. If any of the men she worked with got wind of her being restrained with her own handcuffs—not once, but twice—she’d never live it down.
The rest of her was tied to a straight-back chair, which explained why she wasn’t an ungainly heap on the floor.
Biting back a moan, which would’ve been pitiful out loud, she forced her weak limbs to test the bonds. They were secure. Memories of waking up tied to Jake’s bed stirred, but she didn’t think her current situation was his idea of kinky sex games.
No light pressed in on her lowered eyelids, but she lifted them anyway and saw only a claustrophobic blackness. Despite the drowsiness abating at a mere snail’s pace, Katarzyna could feel panic stirring at the edges of her consciousness. She closed her eyes and pushed the elemental fear back. It felt like trying to force her way through an ocean of molasses.
In bits and pieces, the haze drifted away, dissipated, allowing the memories to return. After Jake had gone on the supply run, there’d been a knock on the door. She’d answered it and found two genetically engineered goons who’d screamed Euro trash, despite the jeans, plaid shirts and hiking boots. One of them had smiled as he said her name. Before she was able to respond to the alarm that had sounded inside her head, hands had reached for her and she’d felt a pinprick on the side of her neck.
Katarzyna tried rolling her shoulders. Whatever had been in the syringe hadn’t completely worn off yet. She still felt like she’d taken an extra large dose of Nyquil.
Slowly, sounds filtered to her ears. She caught snatches of low voices speaking in a language she didn’t recognize. Not quite Russian, she decided. Ukrainian, perhaps?
Definitely not someone she’d busted in the past, now out for a little vengeance. And it sure as hell hadn’t been random, not if they knew her name. But how—
Fear suddenly made her pulse pound. It wasn’t about her. She was only the bait. Three bullets to the chest and Jake Duquesne was still alive. They’d come to rectify that.
Katarzyna’s hands were suddenly like swimming pools. She curled her fingers, balling her hands into fists that felt too small.
Jake was going to
Jake swiftly searched him. Unlike Katarzyna, he didn’t have any handcuffs on him. Making do, Jake unceremoniously lifted the other man, shoved him against a wall, sealed a hand over his mouth and, without flinching, very efficiently, very dispassionately, twisted the captured wrist until he heard something snap. The howl of pain was muffled.
Jake kept his hand clamped over Baseball Cap’s mouth until the sounds died down to the whimpers of an injured animal. When he loosened his grip, the other man slid down the wall to huddle on the ground, cradling the broken wrist against his chest.
Jake bent down, ripped off the baseball cap and bored into the other man’s eyes with his own. “Let’s talk.”
Minutes later, a ball of ice in place of his gut, Jake reached for his cell phone, keyed in ten digits and, since the connection wasn’t secure, left a brief message in a tone with barely leashed fury and fear. “She’s here.”
* * * * *
Katarzyna’s body was heavy with a lethargy that didn’t encourage movement. It took more effort than it should’ve to lift her head and straighten her aching neck. Her arms were tingling with numbness. She tried to draw them forward—and heard the familiar rattling of metal on metal.
God, she hoped the handcuffs weren’t her own. If any of the men she worked with got wind of her being restrained with her own handcuffs—not once, but twice—she’d never live it down.
The rest of her was tied to a straight-back chair, which explained why she wasn’t an ungainly heap on the floor.
Biting back a moan, which would’ve been pitiful out loud, she forced her weak limbs to test the bonds. They were secure. Memories of waking up tied to Jake’s bed stirred, but she didn’t think her current situation was his idea of kinky sex games.
No light pressed in on her lowered eyelids, but she lifted them anyway and saw only a claustrophobic blackness. Despite the drowsiness abating at a mere snail’s pace, Katarzyna could feel panic stirring at the edges of her consciousness. She closed her eyes and pushed the elemental fear back. It felt like trying to force her way through an ocean of molasses.
In bits and pieces, the haze drifted away, dissipated, allowing the memories to return. After Jake had gone on the supply run, there’d been a knock on the door. She’d answered it and found two genetically engineered goons who’d screamed Euro trash, despite the jeans, plaid shirts and hiking boots. One of them had smiled as he said her name. Before she was able to respond to the alarm that had sounded inside her head, hands had reached for her and she’d felt a pinprick on the side of her neck.
Katarzyna tried rolling her shoulders. Whatever had been in the syringe hadn’t completely worn off yet. She still felt like she’d taken an extra large dose of Nyquil.
Slowly, sounds filtered to her ears. She caught snatches of low voices speaking in a language she didn’t recognize. Not quite Russian, she decided. Ukrainian, perhaps?
Definitely not someone she’d busted in the past, now out for a little vengeance. And it sure as hell hadn’t been random, not if they knew her name. But how—
Fear suddenly made her pulse pound. It wasn’t about her. She was only the bait. Three bullets to the chest and Jake Duquesne was still alive. They’d come to rectify that.
Katarzyna’s hands were suddenly like swimming pools. She curled her fingers, balling her hands into fists that felt too small.
Jake was going to
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