Page 13 of Zain

The back passenger door flew open, and rough fingers grabbed her arm and dragged her from the back seat to land with a thud on the road. Someone ripped the turban from her head and shouted in Pashto. A hand sunk viciously into her hair. Fire lit her scalp as she was hauled to her feet. She let out a howl. The scream opened a bottle of rage, and all her training rushed to the forefront of her mind, chasing away the fear.

She tightened her grip on the knife and swept it at her attacker. The man leapt out of reach and the knife licked his shirt, missing his flesh. He let go of her hair but her scalp pulsed from his abuse. The man’s eyes turned dark and his fist smashed against her cheekbone, but she caught herself before she fell.

She dove for him again. This time the knife sliced across his forearm. He roared through gritted teeth. His eyes, fiery coals of death, were pinned on her. She threw her weight to her left leg and landed a roundhouse kick to the side of his head. He staggered and fell to the road.

A grunt sounded from the other side of the vehicle, and Dana’s heart rate spiked. Was Zain hurt?

The man on the ground dove for her legs, taking her out at the knees. She landed hard on her back and air whooshed from her lungs. A burning sensation spread across her chest and wrappedaround her neck, but she forced the paralyzing wave from her muscles and drove the knife into the man’s side.

His face contorted as he looked down at the dagger sticking out of his torso, beneath his ribs. Blood spread across his white shirt. Murder flashed in his eyes, and he caught her throat in his hand, his weight bearing down on her jugular. Harsh words flew from his tongue, and spit sprayed her face.

Warmth spread across her cheeks. Her blood stagnant around her ears, trying to move through her body. Her chest ached. She twisted and squirmed, small sounds of desperation coming from her mouth. Consciousness flickered, and she struggled to hang on, to focus on something—anything that would keep her tethered to awareness.

His soulless eyes blocked out the beautiful night sky. He brought his face close to hers and shouted words she couldn’t understand, hatred she couldn’t deny. He produced a gun and ground the nozzle beneath her chin. She closed her eyes, waiting for the bullet to enter her head. Tears leaked out of her eyes, but she swallowed the plea on the tip of her tongue.

Wham!

The sound was familiar. Fist on bone. The grip on her throat went slack, and the gun beneath her jaw fell away. She sucked in a ragged breath andquickly opened her eyes. Zain stood over them, a fierce, towering mass of masculinity. His body seemed to vibrate with fury, and his eyes shimmered with disgust.

He delivered another punch to the man who’d nearly killed her. The attacker’s body folded on the gravel road, and blood dribbled from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Zain picked up the weapon, aimed, and fired a bullet into the guy’s head. The sharp noise made her jump.

Tremors took over her body. Her scalp throbbed, and tears coated her cheeks. The poignant taste of near-death clung to her tastebuds. Zain pocketed the gun, then bent close to her.

His gaze searched her face, and his knuckles touched her jaw. “Are you hurt?”

She didn’t nod. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do a damn thing but stare at the savage savior who’d walked through blood and death yet still looked at her in awe.

Blood stuck to his ebony eyebrow and snaked around his eye. Dirt marred his olive skin, and menace gave his amber eyes an ethereal glow. He was the most dangerous, alluring human being she’d ever faced.

She didn’t answer his question. Her gaze darted around the road. “Where are the others?”

“Dead.”

She looked back at him. He didn’t even blink. “Can you stand?” Concern swaddled his words, the softness a blaring contradiction to his rough appearance.

“Yes.” The syllable came out weak. Strained. Pathetic.

But it didn’t matter because right now she was all of those things. His arm came around her waist, supporting her weight as he gently lifted her to her feet.

Cortisol infused her cells, her body still anticipating another attack. Zain kept his hand firmly on her side. Her gaze lowered to the split tire. “We don’t have a vehicle,” she said. As that revelation settled, the forest seemed to close in around them.

Zain held up a set of keys. “We’ve got a new ride.” He led her to the attackers’ truck, almost identical to the one that’d just been wrecked, and opened the passenger door.

He moved his hand to her bicep as she climbed into the front seat.

“I lost your knife.”

“You saved yourself. There’s a difference.” His body hovered close to hers as he grabbed the seatbelt and stretched it across her waist then clicked it in place. He shut the door, rounded the truck, and jumped in the driver’s seat.

She wanted to correct him. To tell him she hadn’t saved herself at all. He had. Stabbing the man had weakened him but not enough. Had Zain not shown up, she’d be dead by now.

A distant rumble sounded. The blood drained from her face. She clamped her hand on Zain’s arm. “Do you hear—”

“There’s more of ’em.” He started the truck and peeled away from the scene. In seconds, they turned down a narrow dirt road. Zain’s focused gaze stayed on the road, and he gripped the top of the steering wheel. “One of the guys made a call on his radio before I could get to him. We need to hide.”

Fear pierced her tongue with the sharpness of one thousand needles. This was far from over.

CHAPTER 5

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