Page 66 of Rescued Faith

He towered over her, leering. “This will be fun.”

Not tonight.A little closer, buddy.She didn’t have much room—Bryce on one side, the bed on the other—but it was enough.

Penny coiled her muscles and took aim. As he came at her, she kicked him in the gut with both feet and rolled up to standing. Before he could catch his balance, she lunged at her attacker. He crashed into the wall. Action figurines rained down on them.

The man grabbed her as he fell, pulling her down, his grip around her tight and heavy. She landed on her stomach and couldn’t get away.

He rolled her over and sat on her, pinning her to the carpet. Chubby hands found her neck.

Penny jabbed at his exposed middle. Air whooshed out of him. She quickly grabbed him, one of her arms around his shoulder, trapping it, and the other around his waist.

She exploded her hips up and swept her leg around, rolling him over. He cried out. She definitely needed to thank Jude for teaching her that move.

Bryce still wasn’t moving. But the Smith & Wesson the man had knocked out of her hands earlier caught her eye. She reached for it only to be shoved off. A mean right cross to her jaw had her seeing stars for moment. She ducked his next swing and met his chin in an uppercut.

He stumbled backward. She quickly rolled, grabbed the gun, and squeezed off a shot.

The man screamed and grabbed his shoulder where she’d hit him.

Darn, too high. She aimed again.

“Penny!”

At the panicked sound of her sister’s voice, she froze. Gomez, the same man who’d trapped Penny in the warehouse, appeared in the hallway with a gun to Libby’s head and a tight grip on her arm. He stood behind her like a coward. He didn’t come in the room but used her sister to block the doorway.

“You don’t want to do that.” His glare was cold. Heartless. He wasn’t Sosa, but she had no doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt Libby. The man she’d shot stayed against the wall, leaning, moaning. Bryce stirred slightly. Penny wanted to make sure he was okay, but didn’t dare break eye contact with Gomez.

“Where are my niece and nephew?” She ground out the words.

“Being loaded into a vehicle as we speak.” He pointed his weapon at Penny. “Now drop your gun.”

“Fat chance.”

“We already played this game once, and you lost.” He swung the barrel of his gun to point at Libby instead. She whimpered, squeezed her eyes shut. Her whole body trembled.

“Put. Your gun. Down.”

Penny’s jaw clamped tight, her nostrils flared. Was he bluffing? Would he really shoot? She would have more options and less risk if he weren’t holding a gun on her sister.

Gomez’s eyes narrowed, his trigger finger twitched.

“All right!” Penny screamed. She slowly lowered her gun, waiting—hoping he’d loosen his grip on Libby and she could make a move. But he didn’t. She left the gun on the carpet and stood.

“Kick it away.”

She did.

Without breaking eye contact with Penny, Gomez spoke. “Ross, get the gun.”

The man moaned as he pushed off the wall. It took monumental effort for Penny to not kick him in the teeth as he picked up her Smith & Wesson.

“Call Davis and Ortega and have them come up here now. They can take care of our friends here.”

Ross spoke into a radio. Within seconds, another man appeared in the hall. Gomez nodded toward Penny. “Take the girl and the unconscious man over there and lock them in the pantry.”

Penny’s breath stopped.

“I’d rather shoot them both now,” Ross said, still grasping his shoulder, blood dripping down his shirt.

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