The Big Guns. HelenKay Dimon
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She’d experienced more violence in the past hour—or maybe minutes, she wasn’t even sure how much time has passed—than in her entire life up until that point. The good news, what little she could find, came from her ability to breathe. Whoever hit her hadn’t killed her. The only question was how long her good fortune would hold out.
“Mornin’, sunshine.” The feral voice shocked her into opening her sore eyes.
The brightness sent a new bolt of pain ricocheting around the inside of her brain. The harsh glow from the overhead light screamed through the room and forced her out of her slumber. She saw her attacker face-to-face and immediately missed the false safety of darkness.
A squeal raced to her lips, but she swallowed it back down. Greasy brown hair, narrow yellow-brown eyes and a dirt-stained blue jean jacket. The burly vermin balanced in front of her on his haunches, his stale breath hissing against the bruised skin on her face.
He was her nightmare.
Heck, he was every woman’s nightmare.
“Wake up, sweetie pie. It’s time for us to have some fun.”
She ignored his grim words as her gaze darted around the room. She needed an escape or something big enough to knock him over.
“What’s the matter? You not gonna talk?” His booming laugh filled the small space as he leaned in closer.
What he found so funny, she had no idea.
“I could make you talk. Scream for me, even.” Instead of following through with his threat, he pushed against his thighs and stood.
Sela let out the shaky breath suspended in her chest. From what she could see, she was in a one-room cabin with two possible exits—a window above the kitchen sink that was caked with filth, and the front door off to her left. A very solid-looking wooden door and she had to go through a disgusting guy to get there.
A metal card table and two folding chairs sat in front of the kitchenette lining the wall to her far right. The path to the front door looked miles away, even though the room could not have been more than fifteen feet wide.
She tried a second time to heave her aching body to a sitting position when a brisk knock at the front door stopped her. Her captor whipped out a small gun from behind his back and aimed it in the direction of the sound. Before Sela could scream for help he grabbed her shoulder and lifted her off the sofa.
The jarring move sent a new wave of pain rattling through her battered body. She whimpered but her captor silenced any sound by locking his elbow around her neck and dragging her, half-choking, across the room.
With his back against the door and the muzzle of his gun pressed against her forehead, he called out. “Who is it?”
“Open up,” came the muffled reply.
Sela struggled to identify the voice. From her attacker’s frown, she assumed he couldn’t place it, either.
Her attacker’s grip eased enough for circulation to rush back to her neck. She debated whether or not she could land a swift kick in this guy’s crotch. The idea of him falling to the ground in agony sure sounded good right about now.
“Johnnie? Let me in.” The door muffled the other man’s voice but his words were clear.
Her captor pressed the tip of the gun against the wooden door. “Who are you?”
“The boss sent me.”
“Not possible.”
Boss? The contents of Sela’s stomach spun and swished. The situation went from awful to unbelievable. She had to get out of there, and having two attackers wasn’t going to make that easy.
“This is your final warning. Open up,” the mystery guest yelled through the door.
When Johnnie unlocked the door, Sela felt the last of her hope shrivel.
Chapter Two
Zach heard the lock click and nearly ripped the cabin door off its hinges in the rush to get to Sela. He surged through the door and stopped. His gun never wavered. It aimed right at Johnnie’s forehead in a weapons standoff.
Adam had tracked this guy, Johnnie Weed, down and sent over his criminal record via secured text. Sounded like Johnnie liked to hurt women. Zach decided on the race through back roads that he wouldn’t need backup to take care of Johnnie if he touched Sela. He would tear the other man apart with his bare hands.
Right now the shock on Johnnie’s face matched the fear on Sela’s. “I don’t know you,” Johnnie said.
Zach forced his lungs to inflate, then slowly released his held breath. His gaze moved over her, checking for any sign of injury. A fierce bruise already marred her cheek. Her short skirt was hiked up high on her thighs, and it looked as if her scuffed pumps were the only things holding her tattered panty hose to her legs.
Rage filled his brain until he had to fight the urge to kill Johnnie right there. Instead, Zach nodded in Sela’s direction with a studied coolness he didn’t feel. “Let her go.”
Johnnie kept his arm locked around her slim throat as he held her just out of Zach’s easy reach. “This ain’t your business.”
Johnnie’s gun shifted next to her face. Zach concentrated on the weapon so he didn’t have to see the confusion move over her.
Yeah, she knew him. He could tell by the way her eyes narrowed and her mouth fell into a grim line. Identifying him sure didn’t mean she was happy to see him. She looked the exact opposite of relieved.
And Zach could guess why. The Recovery Project made it a priority to discover everything about Trevor Walters and it would be dumb to assume he didn’t return the favor. Zach guessed his team’s photos were all over Trevor’s office and since Sela was Trevor’s assistant she knew all the details.
“Put that thing down before you hurt her.” Zach issued the order as he plotted a way to inflict some hurt of his own on Johnnie.
“Why do you get a say?”
“Just do it.”
“Do ya think you’re in charge?”
Zach’s hand snaked out with lightning speed. He grabbed the barrel of Johnnie’s gun and snatched it away. With the other arm, Zach elbowed Johnnie under the jaw. The man’s head whipped back from the offensive strike, and he lost his grip on Sela. She spun to the side and landed on the dusty floor with a soft groan.
Zach moved in. He slammed Johnnie in the nose with the heel of his hand. The sudden whack worked as planned. Johnnie howled in pain as blood spurted.
“I’m in charge around here, Johnnie. Don’t forget it.”
“Why did ya hit me?” The guy practically squealed the question.
“You’re lucky that’s all I did.”
“Did