Page 97 of S.O.S. Billboard

She backed away from the grill, skirted it and took one step toward the door.

“Ethan. Run,” she screamed. “Call Billboard.”

A flying body hit her from behind, and she fell hard to the patio, landing on her knees with a jarring thud, but the man’s forward trajectory worked against him. He sailed over her shoulder as she tucked, but unfortunately the tool she thought might be helpful, went spinning away at the same time.

At least she was still upright.Sort of.

O’Shea scrambled to her feet just in time. The initial attacker had regrouped, and approached again. She aimed a kick into his gut. He gave off a pained grunt.

“You want more?” she taunted, her fists raised. But when he paused, his eyes darting behind her, O’Shea knew the second guy was planning to attack. She waited until she felt his hands close on her shoulders, and… O’Shea sent her head back sharply into his face, hearing a satisfying crunch as she broke the bastard’s nose. It worked only because she was tall, and he was short, but she’d take the win.

“Shit!” her new assailant wailed as he fell back, which gave O’Shea a chance to regain her edge. She darted around her initial attacker, headed for the back steps, wanting to make sure that Ethan had successfully fled, and was able to take one glance inside to reassure herself that the front door was open, before she was grabbed around the waist and hauled back.

The first guy really meant business this time. He wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed.

O’Shea, knowing not to fight it, went with the flow even though it chafed against every one of her instincts. She relaxed her body so the prick ended up supporting all her weight. That’s when she sent a hand back to his junk, grabbed, and twisted.

His high-pitched squeal was just what she was hoping for. He let go, and she took a moment to gasp for air. Her hesitation, however, was not helpful. Perp number one was back behind her, giving O’Shea a vicious kidney punch that sent her back to the ground. He straddled her, wrenched her arms behind her back and bound her wrists with something she knew wasn’t zip-ties. It was more like a stout rope; something she knew she wouldn’t be getting off herself anytime soon.

“Go find the boy,” her captor barked to his accomplice, and O’Shea heard limping footsteps stomp by her to enter the house.Good.His egress sounded painful. She hoped she’d emasculated the fucking asshole.

“He’s not in here,” the reply came after no more than thirty seconds had passed.

Even as she heard the perp confirm it, O’Shea was gloating that Ethan was long gone, and would be able to hide, successfully. It was the only thing about the situation that seemed to be going her way.

“Go after him,” her current assailant ordered, then yanked O’Shea’s head back by her hair.

“Where are the documents, bitch?” He slammed her head to the ground and…fuck. That hurt. But she had some satisfaction, seeing the blood from his nose dripping on the flagstones beside her.

“What documents?” she grunted, and got smacked on the back of her cranium for her troubles.

“You know exactly what documents I mean,” he growled. “Now if you want to live, you’ll tell me where they are.” He planted his knee on the small of her back, and ground it in as if to make his point.

“Okay. Fine. Just stop hurting me,” she wailed as loudly as possible. Even though there were no extremely close neighbors, maybe her perp would spook.

He let up, but not much.

Still, it was all she needed to feel like she was semi-in-charge of things again.

O’Shea had to waste as much time as possible, considering Ethan would hide before he called in the cavalry. He’d been coached on what to do, and he’d follow orders to a T. He was a bright kid.

O’Shea almost grinned, thinking of those bad-ass SUV’s pulling up. She couldn’t wait for these two pricks to get a load of the SOS team. They wouldn’t be quite so ballsy when faced withmore opposition. Not that she’d done badly, but two against one was always a crap shoot, and this pair was tenacious, despite their newly sustained injuries.

She wanted to keep them talking. “Who are you and who sent you?” O’Shea asked.

As if she couldn’t guess. But the longer she could draw out the moments before she gave them the safe, the longer SOS had to mobilize, and if need be, the more time she had to plan her eventual escape.

“None of your fucking business,” the man atop her snarled. “Now tell me where those papers are Mrs. Jakes.” He punched her again, this time right between her shoulder blades. It knocked the wind out of her for a moment, and she gasped to regain her breath.

But…

Well, hello.They thought she was Anna?

That was a complete game-changer. Her brain going into overdrive, O’Shea thought maybe she should play this a little differently.

“Let me up,” she finally was able to gasp. “I’ll show you.”

Bracing herself—because she knew the asshole wasn’t going to carefully lift her from the ground—the man removed his knee, grabbed her bound wrists, and yanked her up. If she hadn’t been ready, he might have dislocated her shoulders, but she’d firmed up her joints, so it was just hella uncomfortable.

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