Page 7 of Pick Yourself Up
Her voice shook, but she squeezed out the words. “It doesn’t work without an active keycard.”
“Give me one.”
She rolled her lips again. “I need the computer to activate one.”
While his boss swore again, the third man turned to her. “We’ll use your credentials. Where are they?”
At the moment, she didn’t have a clue. The stairwell door was closed again. The man she’d hoped would help had disappeared.
Had he gone for help? Had he run away?
No. He wouldn’t run. He’d get help.
A bang exploded while excruciating pain bloomed in her lower leg.
Hands touched her and pulled at her clothing.
She fought them. No way in hell was she letting them rape her without a fight.
Then the hands stopped, and a boot kicked her in the stomach, stealing her breath.
“Got the card. Brown, truss her up. If she fights you, shoot her again. Lock those front doors and don’t let anyone in. Spade, you’re with me. Let’s get that prick.”
Another kick had her rolling to her side, too shocked and afraid to cry out.
Her eyes locked again on those belonging to the man from the stairwell. He hadn’t run away. He’d come closer.
From his position behind one couch, he nodded at her and motioned for her to stay still and quiet.
When she managed a tiny nod in response, his lips tilted in an almost smile.
Amber grasped onto the connection with him to keep herself grounded, and to prevent giving away his presence.
Pain rippled through her, from her leg to her head. Dizziness from the blows she’d taken, and fear had her stomach roiling, but she controlled it. No vomiting.
Not in front of her sexy rescuer.
Dark Eyes kept his gaze roving across the lobby. Again, he motioned for her to stay still and quiet.
Then he rose. Yep, sexy.
Tall. Strong shoulders and arms. Moved like a tiger.
She’d always liked tigers.
Amber blinked and tried to focus. How could she help Dark Eyes?
Her phone. Idiot. She could use her phone.
The creep with the computer skills, the one they’d called Brown, wasn’t in sight. He must have moved to lock the doors, knowing she wasn’t capable of interfering with his plans.
But she could.
Her phone. They’d tossed it when they’d searched for her key. It rested under the desk. If she could reach it, she could call 911.
She reached out her arm and dragged herself forward. Her fingers grabbed her device just as a foot landed on her arm. “Not a chance, bitch. You keep it up, T’s not going to let you live at all.”
T? What kind of name was T for a creep?
