Page 79 of Broken Trust
“Yeah, you did.” The tiniest, terrified smile ghosted over her mouth and died. “Liam…are you okay? You’re bleeding.”
“Seen worse.” It wasn’t a lie. It was only a lie when it came to him. He’d experienced bullet grazes but never something like this, and unfortunately it missed his body armor. But the truth wouldn’t help the situation, and pain was something he knew how to bury.
He tried to push into a sitting position and found out why his body wasn’t obeying like it should—his good wrist was cinched with a steel cuff to the desk leg. The other shoulder had a hole in it.
Fantastic.
He braced his boots on the floor, clenched his stomach and heaved himself upright, hoping he didn’t pass out like a rookie. Fire lanced his shoulder, and a harsh growl ripped out of himbefore he could stop it. The room grayed at the edges, then snapped into sharper focus.
He leaned upright against the desk, breath rasping through his nose.
“God, Liam…”
He caught Elin’s gaze and held it. “At least we got some alone time.”
Her eyes looked brighter thanks to the tears sparking in them.
“Now you can’t get away from me. We can have that talk we’ve both avoided, thought we didn’t need or got interrupted in the middle of.”
She shook her head, another lock of hair slipping free from her ponytail. “We need to get free. Then we can talk.”
“We can do both.” If he didn’t say the things now, he feared he would find a way not to later.
“Later.” She cut a glance to the closed door and back. “Where is your team?”
“Wish I knew.”
“Tell me how to get out of these.” She twitched her wrists, but grimaced as the ties sliced deeper.
The son of a bitch had bound her hands together, then used another zip-tie to attach her to the chair leg, pulling her arms to the side at an awkward slant. When Mason got hold of the motherfucker, he was going to wish Cipher had gotten to him first.
He focused on Elin and nodded once. “Plastic will give. Brace your wrists against the chair so you’ve got slack. Tuck your chin.”
She did.
“Bring your elbows close to your ribs if you can. That’s it, angel.”
Her gaze shot to his, the green pools full of courage and emotions he was going to get out of her.
“On my count, drive your hands down fast and hard. Along your thigh. You’re tied at an odd angle. You want sharp force behind the move. Think about breaking a cheap broom, not pulling taffy.”
Her throat moved. “Okay.”
“On my mark, angel. Three…two…one. Now!”
She brought her hands down with a fierce cry. The sudden crack of the ties snapping made his chest heat with pride and love and so many things he would never be able to put into words.
She gasped, eyes wide. Then she lifted her hands. Red lines branded her skin.
She jumped up and shuffled toward him with her ankles till tied, dropping to her knees at his side. Her hands trembled over him, hovering over his shoulder, but she didn’t touch him.
“Why did he have to handcuff you?” she almost wailed.
His handcuffs were the old-school kind, solid and unforgiving. He rattled the chain to feel the play. Then he rotated his wrist, testing the lock. He could snap the leg off the desk, except it was metal bolted to metal.
That left one option.
He looked at his hand. “You might hear a popping sound.”
