Page 15 of Wrecked
She first kneed her captor under the chin.
When his head snapped back, she kicked the heel of her foot out to smash his face.
The guy howled and fell backward with blood spraying from a broken nose.
That all happened in seconds.
No reason to be quiet now. Sam raced over to her.
She struggled with her grip on the ropes, trying to use one hand to hold her body weight and shake her other hand free of the binding. Impossible.
He yelled, “Hold up. I’ll help you.”
A laser gaze of fury shot to him. “Who are you?”
Not the reaction he’d expected. “I’m not withthatguy moaning on the floor.” Said guy was trying to get up. Sam took a step and kicked his booted foot at the creep’s head.
Down went One-eye again.
She sagged with relief, then muttered, “Took you long enough.”
What did that mean?
Sam didn’t have time to find out. He glanced around and found a metal wheel with a chain wrapped around it next to the wall. Hurrying over, he grabbed the lever and released the tension on the single string of chain. The links ran through pulleys hung from the rafters and then down to the rope. He leaned his back into lowering the chain slowly to keep from dropping her hard and breaking an ankle.
Water in the three-foot-tall wooden tub still splashed when she hit. Her knees folded against the edge. She groaned as her arms dropped and she fumbled with the ropes.
Sam ran over with his knife out to cut the rope from the chain. He pulled the pieces from her raw wrists and hissed at the damage. “Hang on. I’ll get you out.” He used both hands to grab her around the waist and hoist her out, pinning his gaze to her gorgeous gray eyes the whole time. Loose hair had fallen from a twisted-up style, probably from having it grabbed.
He stepped over to a dry spot and lowered her feet to the floor.
“Can you stand on your own?” he asked gently.
“Yes.” That had come out as a croak.
Guessing at what she’d suffered turned his stomach.
She put her hand on a tall wooden table next to her that held an assortment of torture tools.
Disgust tore at Sam.
He released her then unlatched his tactical vest, keeping his rifle and handgun where he could reach them immediately. He dropped his vest on the nasty display of tools still covered in dried blood, then pulled his black T-shirt over his head and handed it to her.
He would understand anyone in her situation falling apart, but this woman shifted between flinching with pain and fury crossing her face.
She startled at being handed a shirt. Red-rimmed from what she’d been through, her gray eyes still met his straight on, but her face softened.
She was tall and a looker. A tough female from what he could see.
Why had she been kidnapped?
She swallowed hard and pulled the shirt over her head. “Thanks.”
He wanted to make everything better for her and hear that sweet voice without the underlying pain. It was all he could do to not stomp the one-eyed cretin to pieces.
A groan and scuffle sound yanked Sam around. He automatically lifted his Baretta as he turned.
One-eye dragged a weapon from behind him, yanking it up.
