Page 98 of Zain

But she’d heard her name. Right before the jerk had taken her to the ground, she’d heard a man scream.

Zain.

She had to be delirious. There was no way he’d found her. No way she was on the cusp of rescue. But her heart’s knowledge was stronger than her doubt.

Zain, I’m here. I’m alive! I knew you’d come for me.

Rough hands seized her shoulders and rolled her onto her back.

Her head lolled, and her consciousness slipped from her fingers like dust in a windstorm. A menacing face glared down at her. Sharp. The flash of a gun caught her eye, and her saliva turned to acid.

She opened her mouth to scream, but his palm slammed over her lips.

“This won’t look like an accident,” Smith cautioned his colleague.

Dana kicked—his shins, his thighs, his groin. Her captor didn’t even flinch. He shoved his knee into her stomach, anchoring her in place as he said something unintelligible to Smith. The gun hovered inches from her temple.

This was her only shot.

She chomped down. Her teeth sunk into the meaty tissue of his palm. She locked her jaw as he howled. He jerked his hand away, and the metallic taste of blood coated her tongue. She threw back her head.

“Zain!” she bellowed, using the power of her diaphragm. Her vocal chords shook.

Using all her strength, she pulled her knee to her chest and jammed her foot between his legs. Her shoe connected with the man’s junk, and he careened back. Dana kicked free, but with herarms behind her back she couldn’t get up. Smith grabbed her.

He held her down on her knees, his fingers biting into her biceps. “Fucking shoot the bitch already!” he yelled.

Sharp brought the gun to her head. Dana stared down the barrel of the weapon. Her surroundings faded away. Tunnel vision allowed only the sight of the tiny hole that’d take her life any minute.

This was it. There was nothing she could do. A sob escaped her. Her mouth filled with the salty taste of her tears, and anguish twisted her heart. She closed her eyes. Zain’s name was like a prayer on her lips.

Crack!

The blast of the gun jolted her body. Dana screamed, the sound shaking her core. Her lips trembled as the wail of terror pulled itself from her chest.

But she wasn’t dead.

She opened her eyes to see Sharp fall to the ground. Blood trickled from the left side of his head, where a huge chunk of his skull was missing. Vacant eyes stared at Dana as he landed in the dirt.

“Fuck.” Smith yanked her to her feet. He held one arm across her chest, covering his front with her back.

Dana’s head swam, and her legs wobbled beneath her. If it weren’t for Smith using her as a shield, she’d crumple to the ground. He withdrewa gun and pressed it against her head. The cool, hard steel ground against her sensitive skin.

Movement on the hill made her lift her gaze. Zain came down swiftly, a gun held confidently in his muscled hands, his shoulders so wide and rigid her mouth went dry. She blinked, but he didn’t disappear. Didn’t fade into her imagination. “Zain!” she choked, needing to say his name, to make his presence stronger.

His golden eyes landed on her, and a red tint crept across his cheekbones. “Let her go!” he bellowed.

Smith retreated. Each step dragged her further and further from Zain. “Put your gun down and I won’t shoot her.”

Zain didn’t move and didn’t lower his weapon. “I said let her go,” he commanded, his tone deadly.

Smith’s arm holding the gun shook. “Back up or—”

A vicious snarl came from her left. Something slammed into Smith, and the weapon dropped away from Dana. She fell to the ground and immediately scooted away. A dog—Micha!—was tearing at Smith’s arm.

Smith screamed, and a gun went off.

Dana clapped her hands over her ears. Micha whined and skirted to Dana’s side. Blood pooled on Smith’s chest.

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