Page 5 of Rogue Mission
Not fast enough for him.
"Ouch!" The squeak escapes when he grabs my arm, jerking me the rest of the way up.
His ham-fisted grip strikes a nerve near my elbow. Lightning shoots up and down my arm, and for a second the microscope nearly slips from my other hand.
Asshole.
The surge of anger bolsters my resolve. My scientific brain catalogs the data about the man. He’s approximately 6'2" tall, 275 pounds heavy, with slower reflexes than he thinks.
He’s also arrogant, and hopefully underestimates me. I need that right now.
Standing in front of me, his breath huffs and puffs out of him, reminding me of an oversized dog. His gaze tips down to study my chest with undisguised hunger.
Predictable move, but still ick.
"Maybe I should take little scaredy cat with me," he says, voice gone thick and sickening. "They'd never know if I took you home for a little fun. Would they?"
The curveball freezes me solid.
All I can do is try to breathe through my mouth to stop the assault of his breath. Which also reminds me of a dogs.
"The guards would know," I manage weakly. "Mr. Westerly would be really mad if you hurt me. He needs me to do that special lab work. No one else knows how to?—"
He cuts me off by leaning down. Drawing his nose along my cheek and into my hair where he inhales deeply, growling out a volcanic breath.
The alarm bell in my head isn't just clanging, it's deafening. I’ve never heard it so loud in my life.
"You'd still be able to work," he says with a harsh laugh. His hand tightens on my elbow until my fingers go completely numb. "You'll be able to work, but forget walking right when I'm done with you. You're small and I don't fuck easy."
With one hundred percent certainty, I will projectile vomit if this goes any further.
But I’m not going to let it.
"You know," I say, voice steady despite everything screaming inside me, "a man like you is a real prize."
The microscope swings in a clean arc and makes a satisfying clang of metal when it meets the man’s skull.
It’s a solid sound, exactly how I imagined it.
His grunt is an awkward, surprised sound.
Only when he should fall, he just sways.
Did I mess it up? Is one hit not enough?
He teeters, torso bending like a palm tree in a hurricane and I consider shoving him, but my heart decides it's done.
DONE.
The poor organ leaps completely up into my throat.
And I barely have the wits to jump back in time to escape his fall.
The impact is seismic. Limbs buckling. Face going slack, he slams into the floor.
Yes!
“No! Oh my god!”
