Page 17 of Tactical Lies

Couldn’t.

It was like agreeing to let these men do whatever they wanted to her.

No longer was she the sweet, innocent girl she’d been back when she was twenty and raped. Now she knew the world wasn't sunshine and roses, you couldn’t just smile, offer support to someone, and make things better.

The real world was full of darkness and people hurt one another just because they could. Because they prioritized themselves and what they wanted above all else.

These menwouldhurt her.

Because they could.

No one would stop them.

And Connor had already given up their only chance to fight.

When she didn't comply with the order she’d been given, the man who was standing closest to her swung his assault rifle at her. It slammed into the side of her head hard enough that she saw stars, and with a groan, she swayed and fell to the ground.

“Touch her again and I will rip you to pieces,” Connor growled in a low and dangerous tone she’d never heard him use before.

Stupidly, the man who had hit her laughed like Connor was joking.

Only he wasn't.

She could tell by his voice that he was deadly serious, and it sent a cold shiver through her.

The boy she once knew wasn't this man kneeling beside her, calmly staring down eight armed men. Her Connor had been sweet and supportive, she’d seen him angry plenty of times, over what happened to his mom and stepdad, and with Dylan after her rape, but he’d never sounded like this. Like a man perfectly capable of ripping another human being to pieces.

It would scare her if she hadn't been absolutely certain he would never lay a hand on her.

The idiot who hit her obviously wasn't very smart.

Because he didn't leave it at just laughing mockingly at Connor’s threat.

Nope.

Instead, he rammed his weapon into her ribs, knocking the air from her lungs, and Becca crumpled, gasping as she tried to suck in air.

Vaguely, she was aware of a commotion happening around her, but it was taking all her effort just to breathe through the piercing agony in her chest.

Her vision cleared enough to process that the shouting was coming from the men and was directly aimed at Connor, who was no longer on his knees beside her. He’d moved and was proving he was good at following through on his threats because his arm was around the neck of the man who had hit her.

How he’d managed to pounce without anyone shooting him she had no idea, but fear for him flooded her system.

He was going to get himself killed.

While looking the man who appeared to be the leader directly in the eye, Connor snapped the man’s neck.

“Connor, no!” she screamed, positive she was about to witness his death. No matter how she felt about him, all the hurt, anger, and betrayal, she didn't want him dead. Not ever. A part of her heart would always belong to Connor Charleston because he was her first love, possibly even her greatest love.

As though they’d forgotten she was even there, weapons spun in her direction until they were all aimed at her, and she curled in on herself, trying to make herself as small a target as possible. Although how that would help her if seven assault rifles all opened fire on her at the same time, she had no idea. Well, actually, she did, and it wouldn't help her at all.

Not looking the least bit concerned, Connor released the now-dead body of the man who had hit her twice. “Told you what would happen if you touched her,” Connor said calmly, that same deadly undertone evident.

“You will pay for that,” the man in charge snarled, but Connor merely shrugged like he didn't care. He’d made his point, and he seemed happy with that.

When two of the men jumped at Connor, swinging their fists, hitting him over and over again, he didn't make a sound. Didn't so much as grunt in pain.

Unlike her.

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