Page 97 of August

Gigi’s gaze widened on the closed switchblade. Her insides clenched and her heart thundered a mile a minute. She was vaguely aware of Marko moving behind the camera.

Alvarez’s rough hand locked on her jaw. He bent his head and closed his thick, rough lips over hers. His fingers squeezed her mouth and forced her lips to loosen. He swept his tongue inside. Revulsion spiked up her esophagus.

Using all her strength, she fought against his hold and chomped down. Hard. Alvarez yanked away and yelled. Blood dripped from his mouth, and rage unlike any she’d ever witness flashed in his eyes.

Gigi’s chest heaved with unspent adrenaline. She jerked against the chair. Her brain flickered, on the verge of blacking out.

The snapping sound of the metal blade flipping open made her freeze. The shiny steel glinted in the camera’s light.

Alvarez’s eyes glittered with excitement. He reached for her face. “Open up,” he taunted, in a singsong voice.

Gigi twisted away but he grabbed her chin. He worked his thumb into her mouth to pry open her teeth, ready to grab her tongue.

Ice-cold terror coated her skin in its frosty fingers. Gigi kicked him in the shin as hard as she could. He faltered, letting go.

And then she let loose a scream with the power to wake the dead.

***

August stood at the door, completely still, his fingers still on the doorknob. He hadn’t planned on killing a dog today. Really didn’t want to do that. Fuck.

He also didn’t want to get his face torn to shreds or alert the men inside the house to his presence. The dog didn’t bark. But the growls and snuffling sounds told August the animal was on alert and suspicious.

An ear-piercing scream tore through the house.

Gigi.

No longer giving a damn whether the dog attacked him, August blew through the door. The dog yelped and then began barking ferociously but didn’t attack. Instead, it ran through the kitchen toward the hallway ahead of August.

His gaze swept every nook and cranny as he ran, his AR-15 poised in front of him. Yelling sounded from the back of the house—from the bedroom he’d been right outside of.

A man spat orders in Spanish. August’s chest pinched. The scream had stopped. Why wasn’t she screaming?

He skidded into the bedroom on the tail of the dog. Gigi sat in a plastic chair beneath the window. Alvarez stood next to her, blood dripping from his mouth. Another man in the room pulled out his gun and trained it on August.

“Put it down!” August shouted, swinging the AR-15 around and aiming it at the young guy’s head. The guy immediately turned the gun to the ceiling, palms open, and lowered it. August didn’t dare look right at Gigi.

Not yet.

Her terrified eyes would cut him at the fucking knees.

“Marko. You fucking useless piece of shit!” Alvarez yelled, as he moved behind Gigi and swept a knife beneath her chin. He held the blade against her pale flesh.

August saw red. Flames licked around his vision. Gigi’s lips were pressed in a flat line, and her jaw was hiked as high as she could to alleviate the pressure on her throat.

“Drop the knife.” The command came out on a tremor, but the quake in his voice had everything to do with the unspent fury rattling his muscles.

The cold sweat on the back of his neck, the constriction in his chest, and the buckle of his knees—that shit was fear.

He didn’t dare take the shot that would end Alvarez. He stood too close to Gigi, was using her as a shield. August couldn’t take the chance yet. He needed Alvarez to move from his crouched position. If the guy shifted even the slightest bit higher, August would have a clean shot at his head.

“Fuck you,” Alvarez hissed. He drove the blade higher, pushing a white line into Gigi’s skin. Her slight frame was too fucking small to be under so much strain.

“August,” she mewled. The tiny catch in her voice undid him.

He locked his gaze on her hazel hues, trying with every fiber of his being to promise her that this was over. But he didn’t move his lips for fear he’d waste precious milliseconds. Gigi’s face hardened and her eyes narrowed.

Shit. He wanted to tell her to stay fucking still, but it was too late. Her shoulders wiggled as her hands did something behind her back and—

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