Page 7 of The Contract

Fuck.

Get up, Riley! Get. Up!

I roll, trying to get up.

Fast, greedy hands descend on me, covering my body like spiders.

Creeping across my breasts, slipping beneath my skirt. A zip tie biting into my wrists.

No!

Da’s voice punches through the haze like a beacon from heaven.

You’ve got one shot, darlin’. Make. It. Count.

So I do.

First kick—wild. A potent burst of fucking fury sure to take names and kick ass. And…

A miss.

One of them slaps my breast, hard enough to sting. “Is that the best you’ve got, sweetheart?”

God, is it?

Then, a switch flips, and all of a sudden, I’m pissed at Leo. He should’ve done more. Demanded life. A happy ending. For Kate to scooch the hell over six inches and give him a fighting shot.

A chorus of laughter erupts and a surge of adrenaline sharpens into rage. Albeit mild rage as dizzying waves lock hold, but rage nonetheless.

He’s close now. So close I can taste it—his breath leaking through the hood like cat piss mixed with rotting eggs.

I focus on him. His body and the way he’s lined up, crouching in.

Perfect.

My second kick comes fast and brutal, and harder than the first.

I don’t need to see where it lands. Because the moment his massive body drops and his collapse ripples around me, satisfaction explodes in my chest.

Groin. Dead center.

A string of ragged, broken grunts spills into the air. And the shift in his body weight is all I need.

I scramble out from under him, but I don’t get far.

Another hand snaps around my ankle, shackling me. Yanking me back so hard, my skin tears against the gravel.

My breath saws in and out, heart hammering. Because if I kick again, and miss? It’s game over.

Then, a voice. Deadly Low and…Russian? And with just six little words, he stops the world cold.

“Take your hands off my property.”

His…what?

CHAPTER 3

Riley

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