Behind me, the chilling voice snapped to Ramirez, “Check her.”
Ramirez stepped in front of me, the murky light unable to hide the sly
satisfaction crawling across his face. He crouched at my feet and found the knife
I had no chance to use, stuck in my right boot, and then he found my empty holster. His hands left slime in their wake as he dragged them up my legs in a deliberately crude search.
My skin crawled, but I kept my face blank. He rose and shoved a rough hand
between my legs. My reaction had nothing to do with reason and everything with
rage. I slammed my cupped hands over his ears and yanked my knee up,
introducing his balls to his throat. His choked scream was music to my ears. He
stumbled back, one hand over an ear and one cupping his questionable jewels.
An arm wrapped around my throat, drawing me up on my toes and bending
my spine back. I dug nails into the skin-covered steel holding me up. Only when
the feel of cool metal kissed my temple did I stop struggling.
“Get up, dumbass.” The growl vibrated under the base of my skull.
“Fuckin’ bitch.” Ramirez straightened painfully. “You’ll pay for that.”
The arm at my throat blocked my response and my air. Little black dots
started a mad dance at the edge of my vision. Just when I thought I’d lose consciousness, the arm loosened, dropping me to my feet.
Unfortunately, he found a new grip, in my hair. There were reasons, good ones, on why some women soldiers cut their hair. This would be one. I wrapped
my hands around his wrist, trying to keep him from pulling my hair out by the
roots. He yanked me to my knees, and I hit the ground hard enough to bruise my
kneecaps. The gun never wavered. It was too close to try to get away, but I could
be patient.
Above me, Iceman told Ramirez, “You deserved it. Now get over here and
get the earpiece.”
Shit, shit, shit. How the hell had he seen it? Thankfully, Kayden was no longer yelling at me. That was the only good thing about this whole screwed-up
situation. Ramirez came close, careful to keep his vulnerable parts out of reach.
Not like I could do much with the cruel grip in my hair that kept my neck painfully extended. Then there was the gun that was too close to attempt anything but breathing.
Ramirez yanked out the earpiece, taking a few strands of hair with it. He dropped it and proceeded to crush it beneath his foot. With my head angled like
it was I couldn’t miss Ramirez’s glare aimed at the asshole holding me. “How long before her backup shows?”
“We’ve got time, they’re tied up with Hobbes,” Iceman answered.
How the hell did he know that? And time for what? Nerves edged out adrenaline, and the dull ache setting up shop in my head took a turn for the worse when Iceman used his grip to yank me to my feet.
Swearing, my hands flailed against that unrelenting hold, trying to lessen the
pressure. Once on my feet, I decided being bald would be better than whatever
they had planned. I swung back, twisting to bring up a knee, aiming for his thigh, even as pain became a white smear across my vision and what felt like
half of my hair remained behind.
The pressure on my skull disappeared, only to be replaced by a sharp knife
of agony over my kidney as Ramirez landed two sharp blows on my back. The
hit sent me stumbling forward where I took another blow from Iceman across my face. The combination sent me to my knees, then my hands. Skin tore, the sting buried under the wash of pain from my skull and face. I lost track of both
men, too focused on trying not to black out.
When things finally came back into blurry focus my arm was wrenched
between my shoulder blades. Every twitch sent a razor-sharp spasm through me.
