8. Amy

8

AMY

T he man held a gun to my head, daring me with his evil glare to open my mouth. Earlier, he'd threatened to cut my tongue out, and that scared me. Having the end of his gun barrel jabbing at my temple terrified me more.

Gunfire erupted outside the room. So much violence. It sounded like a war out there. Shouts and screams. Orders and threats volleyed back and forth. Voices were muffled, but I knew there were many of them.

Help? I shook from the fear of having a bullet in my head, but I clung to the hope that all that noise out there meant someone was here to rescue us. That there was a god, and there was some good in the world. Anything. I'd be gullible and believe or pray to anything and anyone if it were true.

If all that commotion and chaos wasn't happening because of someone bursting in here to save me and these other women, I didn't want to consider what other trouble was coming our way. If all that fighting wasn't a case of the thugs battling to keep us captive, then what else could it be ?

Time didn't stand still now. It dragged out, stretching the fear and agony of wondering what was going to happen. These two men were warning us to keep quiet. Our room must not be obvious to find, and the pair of thugs wanted to keep our presence a secret. Seconds dripped into long, tense minutes.

I stood as still as I could, blinking and breathing through my nose while blood leaked down my calf. If I weren't tied to the wall, among the six of us in here, we could team up and try to get those guns from these men locked in here with us.

The tallest one with blood on the insides of her thighs likely wouldn't risk it. The guy singled her out to silence. His gun was rammed into her mouth. He'd shoved it there when he told her to shut the fuck up.

Her eyes leaked tears as she cinched them tightly shut, her cheeks no doubt aching around the forceful thrust of his firearm in her mouth.

The child was the one who gave in. She caved just when the gunfire died down. They had to all be dead out there. Voices sounded here and there. Footsteps too, as people marched quickly on stairs somewhere in this building.

Just as I thought things were settling, the young girl in the room buckled under the suspense and fear. She cried out. The sound of her sobs pierced my heart, but I soon had another pain to suffer.

The man pushing his gun at my head reacted. He glowered at me and backhanded me with a warning to be quiet as he ran to the girl and covered her mouth with his hand.

Keeping his gun in the one woman's mouth, the other thug glared at us and mouthed orders to keep quiet.

It was too late. Someone out there heard the girl.

Gunshots rang out at the door, and I flinched at the metallic sounds. All of us crept toward the wall, unable to flee as the two thugs approached the door with their guns ready .

They were no match for the intruders. Tall, muscled men filed it and shot them both dead, right between the eyes. So many of them filed in, all dressed similarly in all black. Their eyes held the coldness of killers, and as they began to sever the ropes that held us to the wall, their faces bore no expression of compassion.

I couldn't keep up with the blur of actions. From teetering at the brink of death, a trigger pull away from the end of my life, to… freedom? These newcomers wanted to get us out of here, but I realized they were not here as heroes. They didn't release us or offer blankets or first aid. No paramedics or crime scene techs came in after them. This was no grand rescue attempt from law enforcement.

I was being whisked from one bad situation to a worse one.

These men had no reservations about killing. Their guns were an extension of them, at the ready and with the willingness to be used.

A taller man with short blond hair and the bluest, iciest eyes I'd ever seen strode toward the girl. I couldn't look away. In a strange, prickling sense of déjà vu, I watched him. I knew him, those sloping, muscular bulges of his shoulders leading to his back. Those firm thighs that stretched the fabric of his pants as he crouched to cut the girl's rope free.

Even the fierce scowl that marred his face with a show of complete anger.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my ? —

I shook my head, rocked by the realization that I knew this man. Flashbacks of him removing his pants and lowering them to bare his thick legs like trunks of muscles. Then more, the memory of clawing at his broad back as he filled me. Even worse… I sucked in a deep breath, stuck on the visual of him narrowing his eyes with that gritty, feral expression of anger.

Nate .

The stranger.

No. No! I repelled the idea.

They were the same. Nate was my one-time lover, that man I couldn't forget, but somehow, he was the same person as that stranger who'd kissed me in the alley last night.

And here, right now, my eyes were deceiving me, making me think this killer, this criminal was the man I yearned for.

"Run home and don't tell the cops who you saw or where you were."

His voice. I froze at the tone of his voice. It was him. He'd spoken so roughly and with authority that night we'd shared.

"Go!" he shouted at the girl he'd rescued.

It's him. It's fucking him!

He didn't look the same. Not at all. His eyes were light blue, not dark green. His hair was golden and buzzed short, not long and brown. But his features remained the same.

Nate.

"I'm going to sample you, bitch," a man threatened to the woman trapped next to me.

"Please," she begged. "Please don't hurt me."

He grinned, and I watched in horror as he felt her up while cutting at her rope. "Yeah. We're going to have some fun."

My stomach clenched and roiled as I tried to shy back from another man reaching for me.

"Yeah. Nothing wrong with sampling a little here and there, huh?" he taunted as he reached for my rope.

"Let me go!" I shouted and tried to dodge his attempts to touch me under my dress .

We all cried out, almost in a chorus. "You released her , so let me go too! I won't tell anyone. I won't say a word!" another woman sobbed.

I didn't have time to get over the shock of realizing Nate was here. I had to survive. I had to get away. The soldier gave up trying to reach for me, and I kicked out and kneed at him, grunting and breathing hard to fight and escape with all my might.

I needed control. Something. I couldn't let this be my life. Taken and kidnapped, only to be taken captive by another who'd sample me and defile me. I refused to let that be my life!

"Let me go , asshole!" I gritted my teeth, pulling on the ropes that still bound me to the wall like I was nothing more than a leashed animal. Bringing my foot up, I kicked him square in the crotch, triumphant when he groaned and reached over to protect his nuts.

He straightened too soon, snarling at me with the clear intention to hurt me burning in his eyes. I tightened my muscles, bracing for the hit of his hand as he reared back his arm to slap me.

The pain never came.

His arm remained still in the air, held back with another man's strong fingers clutched around his wrist.

Nate.

He stared at me like nothing else mattered. Like he couldn't believe that he was looking at me. Surprise was an understatement. He looked shocked and rooted in disbelief that he'd encountered me here, like this.

"Don't even think about it," he growled at the other man.

The possessive wrath in his gaze chilled me as he flung the other man's arm away. Still grimacing and rubbing his crotch, the other man retreated, letting my former lover step up closer to me .

His gaze never left me. Looking me over, up and down, then every time returning to my face, he seemed to study me in further conviction that I was the woman he'd fucked so well that he'd imprinted himself on my soul.

"Let me go," I pleaded, quieter and hoping he would have some thread of compassion now that he realized we weren't strangers.

He didn't reply, seeming to ignore me as he cut through the ropes binding me.

The second that pressure was severed, I ran. My hands fell free, light and unencumbered, and I took my chance. I'd spent all that time missing this man, but he was a criminal . One more powerful thug who'd kill and cause violence, who'd look away unaffected at the thought that women were being captured and transported against their will.

I shot my arm back to better pump my stride, but I only accomplished one big step forward.

He halted my run, catching me in his arms and holding tight. It wasn't a sweet, sexy, or secure hold. This wasn't a repeat of how he'd kept me close as he pounded into me on my sweat-soaked bed after hours of filthy, good sex.

His muscles bunched tight as he strained to keep me captive. "You're coming with me."

Other men backed away, like he was in charge. A leader. He doubled down with his force on me before taking hold of the small length of rope that remained to my hands and pulling on it to guide me in exiting with him. "This one is coming with me ," he told them.

How? Why?

I dug my feet in the best I could, still wanting to get away as he led me out of the room. It made no sense. How could I ever have yearned for or desired a criminal like him? A murderous thug ?

"Let's go," he ordered from the doorway, pulling me after me.

"Fuck you," I spat, fighting to break away.

The sight of all the dead or dying bodies in the larger outer room silenced me. I tripped, staggering and stumbling at the horrific and gruesome carnage.

Nate growled, realizing the cause for my quiet sluggishness, and he reached back to wrap his arm around me, forcing me to leave with him.

The image of all those bodies. This man I lusted for and couldn't move on from… He'd caused this. He'd been a part of this. I fell into that numbing shellshock, not only dismayed at witnessing such violence and death, the sort I'd never seen firsthand or up close before, but also that I'd been so, so wrong about the lover I'd missed.

All that time I'd dreamed of seeing him again, I never imagined our reunion would be like this .

As he forced me into a car, I dreaded to know what would come next.