Page 72 of Fast Kill

His fist slammed into her jaw. Her head snapped back, pain exploding through the side of her face. Dazed, she momentarily stopped fighting.

“We’ve got a live one here, Raul,” he said on a laugh as he carried her to the cot. The other man responded in Spanish.

The man carrying her tossed her into the air. She twisted in mid-fall and bounced as she hit the mattress on her side, the impact on the hard surface knocking the air out of her lungs. As she jackknifed into a sitting position, Raul snagged her feet.

She kicked and screamed but it was no use. Within moments he had her legs tied to the end of the cot. She remained in a seated position, arms bound behind her, quaking so hard her muscles hurt, and stared at her captors.

“They’re coming for me. The DEA and the cops, probably the FBI.” It had to be true. She couldn’t bear the thought of going through whatever these two assholes had in store for her if there was no hope whatsoever of rescue. “You need to let me go.”

The dark-haired one cocked his head to the side and studied her with an amused look on his face. “I don’t think so,chica. You’ll be dead long before anyone finds you.”

Her chest constricted.

“But first, we’re going to get all the information out of you that our boss needs.” He stepped up next to the bed and his eyes were no longer flat. They gleamed with a cruel light that told her how excited he was about what they were going to do to her.

She arched up and flailed against his hands but he was too strong and she had no leverage. All she did was tire herself more, and the end result was being strapped to the headboard of the cot by a rope around her throat.

Raw terror clawed at her insides as the past and present collided. She was suddenly eleven years old at her father’s apartment, trapped beneath the weight of the dealer he’d sold her to for his next fix.

Then something silver glinted beside the bed. She wrenched her head to the side to see Raul standing there with an electric drill in his hands.

She stared at it, horror closing her throat up. He grinned and pressed the power button. As the shrill whine of the drill filled the cabin, she screamed.

And screamed again.

The cabin door burst open beside her, slamming against the wall with such force it bounced twice.

Raul whirled but two bullets slammed into his chest. He dropped, his eyes wide.

Behind him, the other man raised his weapon to return fire but whoever it was fired first. Two more bullets found their mark, punching into the man’s chest. His pistol clattered to the floor as he fell to his knees, then onto his belly and lay there in a pool of his own blood, gurgling.

Taylor’s heart threatened to burst as she lay there, bound and helpless, hope a painful pressure in her chest. Logan?

A tall shadow entered the cabin, weapon still pointed at the two dying men.

She stared, not daring to breathe, hardly believing what she was seeing. “Dillon!”

Dillon didn’t dare look at her until he’d kicked away Diego’s weapon and checked their carotid pulses. Diego was dead, and Raul would be within the next minute or so.

Lowering his weapon, her forced himself to look at Taylor. Anguish knifed through him.

She was trussed up on her back, the sounds of her ragged breathing loud in the cabin, but he didn’t see any blood. He swallowed. When he’d heard those bloodcurdling screams a few moments ago, he’d feared he was too late. But no, he’d gotten here in time.

“Dillon,” she whispered, her voice breaking. It cracked his heart in two.

“You okay?” he asked, sliding his weapon into the back of his waistband before crossing to the bed and starting on the knots.

“Y-yes.”

Damn, they were tied too tightly for him to untie them. He left her to rifle through Diego’s infamous toolbox and dug out his KA-BAR knife. “Don’t move. This is razor sharp.”

As he leaned over her, his stomach rolled at the way she stared up at him. Fear and hope. Dillon looked away and got busy. He wouldn’t cut or torture her when the time came, but he would kill her all the same. He had to. Because when it came down to it, he wouldn’t die for anyone.

A few quick slices and he freed her wrists and ankles from the rusted iron frame.

“Come on,” he said quietly, looping one arm around her shoulders to pull her into a sitting position. She was shaking all over, from fear and shock.

“H-how did you f-find me?” she asked, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She swayed a moment, steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t stand her touch, the guilt was too raw, so he backed up a step to put some distance between them.

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