Page 15 of Holiday Hostage
My self-defense instructor had taught me a couple tricks for getting out of zip ties, but none of them worked when I factored in the ropes around my waist, wrists, and even around my ankles.
A whisper of cloth snapped my head up.
The outer door creaked open, and two men rushed in on silent feet.
One shut the door, and both men straightened. “Get her.” The taller of the two jerked his head in my direction. “I’ll keep watch.”
“The fuck you will.” I rocked my chair side to side, trying to knock it over.
If I broke its legs, I could get my feet free. After that, well, I’d have to rely on the instincts that had gotten me this far in life.
“Don’t make a sound.” The shorter one approached me and pulled a wicked looking knife from his boot.
There was just enough light to highlight his eyes. Blue.
Not just any blue either, but the kind of blue that reminded me of the ocean at daybreak, with an inviting lure that promised you might have a good time, or you might die depending on the water’s mood that day.
This man had seen some stuff. Bad stuff.
To him, I was nothing more than a tally mark on the hilt of that knife.
I could see them from here when he angled the blade downward.
Deep gouges that scored the dark wood. Groups of five, and five groups before they disappeared beneath his hand.
Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’d really done it this time.
I should have kept my mouth shut. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as panic set in.
I whimpered against my will and threw my entire body weight backward.
The chair tipped, and right as I would have crashed, he grabbed the rungs and brought me down to face him.
“Stop.” He slashed the knife toward my feet.
I winced as I waited for the pain. It came with a tingling sensation, the pins and needles tickling of circulation returning. “What do you want?”
Stupid question. I knew what they wanted.
Several of them had asked about spoiled goods. I wasn’t naive enough not to realize what they meant.
The man outside might have decided he’d had enough of my bullshit and turned his men loose on me.
Over my dead body.
I waited, breath held, as the man shifted to my side and hacked through the ropes and zip ties binding me to the chair.
“Let’s go.” He grabbed my elbow and pulled me to my feet.
The touch was almost gentle, but that didn’t mean anything.
These were rogue mercenaries intent on taking what they wanted would not be gentle.
I skirted around the thought and lunged toward the door where the second man had his back to me.
An instant later, I landed on my stomach, the breath knocked clean out of my lungs as a weight settled on the backs of my legs and ass.
“Get off me.” My voice screeched higher.
