Page 49 of Falling Fast

“Did he?” The man’s pale gray eyes landed on her, the almost gleeful light in them turning her stomach over. “Well for her sake, I hope she takes that advice. I’m not used to working over ladies. Especially not such pretty ones.”

His expression and the faint curl to his lips suggested that he was looking forward to the opportunity. Charlie refused to react.

“You can go,” he told the others with a dismissive jerk of his chin, and started to pull the door open wider.

Raw terror squeezed her throat shut, flooding her body with a surge of adrenaline. Every sense sharpened. Was he going to beat her? Torture her? She’d never been good at lying, and now with her life at stake, she didn’t think she could pull it off. If she told him she worked for the DEA, would it save her, at least for now? Or make things worse?

One of the men holding her released her wrists and shoved her forward with a hard blow between her shoulder blades. Stifling a cry, she stumbled and caught herself on the edge of the doorframe a split second before smashing into it.

Before she could straighten, a beefy hand reached out and curled around her nape, the thick fingers squeezing. She braced herself, gathered her strength to fight, and then the man jerked her into the room.

Charlie gasped and threw up both hands behind her neck to grip the cruel fingers digging into her flesh, but the pressure didn’t ease up. It clamped down tighter, the bruising force dragging her up onto her bare toes.

Wintry gray eyes stared down at her from beneath heavy black brows, making the room feel twenty degrees colder than it was. “I heard you’re a clever little thing. But not clever enough,” he mused, then whirled them around to face the center of the room, holding her tight to his front. The hard, unmistakable outline of a gun tucked into his waistband pressed into her lower back.

Turning her head, she sucked in a breath, a blade of anguish twisting between her ribs at the sight before her.

Jamie.

He was tied to a chair, hands bound behind him to the back of it. A strip of duct tape covered his mouth. Judging by the damage on his face, they’d already worked him over pretty bad.

Blood dripped slowly from a cut over his left eye, which was almost swollen shut. His other stared back at her with a mixture of fury…and regret. Another guard stood a few feet behind him against the far wall, casually clasping one wrist in front of his body.

Slowly, Charlie released the cruel hand vised around her nape and allowed her arms to fall to her sides.

“So, Mr. Baker seems to think James is much more than a neighbor to you,” the man holding her said in a low voice, the outline of the weapon digging into her lower spine. “If that’s true, then that should speed up this whole interrogation process.”

As if to emphasize the point, the man standing behind Jamie reached into his pocket. A quiet snick sounded as he raised his hand to reveal the wickedly-sharp switchblade glinting in the ghastly overhead light.

In that moment, everything crystallized for her. These men were going to torture Jamie in front of her to make her talk, and they wouldn’t stop until she told them everything they wanted to know.

Once she did, she and Jamie would both die. She knew it with a gut-deep certainty.

From across the room Jamie stared back at her through his one good eye, the anger and apology there clear. There was nothing he could do, and he would accept his fate in the hope that his death would save her. That was just the kind of man he was.

She bit back a shout of denial, rage and helplessness sweeping through her. She refused to let him die.

From out of nowhere, a strange sense of calm came over her. The raw edge of fear faded, replaced by determination. The man holding her prisoner thought she was helpless.

He was wrong. And underestimating her would prove deadly.

There was no time to think the plan through or second-guess herself. Her only weapon was the element of surprise, and she had to use itnow.

Afraid she might change her mind or hesitate if she waited a second longer, she pivoted, both hands driving downward to snatch the weapon from the man’s waistband. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, each movement separate, almost disjointed in her frozen mind.

Her right hand closed around the grip of the pistol. The man jerked and immediately moved to grab her wrist. His thick fingers curled around her bones.

Too late.

The muzzle of the pistol had cleared his waistband. She pulled the trigger, hitting him right above the belt at point blank range.

Blood spattered over her, warm and sticky. He grunted and stumbled back against the door, eyes wide. One hand flew up to cover the wound, an expression of shock on his face as blood streamed out of his gut.

Before he’d even slumped down, Charlie was already whirling to fire at the other man across the room.

The other guard lunged toward her, the blade held high, ready to strike. She raised the pistol.

A hard kick to the back of the leg by the man she’d shot knocked her over. She lost her balance, slammed into the ground.

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