Page 62 of Striker

"It's not that easy. You know it. You also know what's going to happen tomorrow. This is the safest place for you."

"It's exactly because I know what's going to happen tomorrow is why I need to go back. And, Owen, you don't know everything that's going on. Just... take me back, please. If you love me, you'll take me back."

"It's because I love you that I'm doing this. This is to keep you safe. I’m honoring my word," he says, sparking all kinds of fury inside me. Damn him and his fucking honor. I spit in his direction, my eyes flaring. He sighs, throwing his arms wide in frustration. "The MC is here for you, Dani. Just tell me what's going on so I can help you."

I'm shaking.

Furious. Furious and frightened.

Struggling silently against the knots binding my wrists behind my back, I feel things start to give. He doesn't know it, but they're loosening. My hands and forearms are strong, nimble, honed by years of pitching. I never thought I'd be putting my skills to use like this, but I'm grateful for them.

Torn between my promise to Morgan and Riley, and my love for Owen, I remain silent on the real reason for my insistence. I keep fighting. Keep talking.

I must keep him distracted.

"I can't tell you, Owen, but trust me, it's important."

"That's not enough, Dani. If it's so important, you need to trust me."

"Trust you? That's rich coming from a man who tied me up and kidnapped me in the middle of the night. You should be begging my forgiveness, and if you love me at all, you will take me back to that wedding."

"We've been over this before..."

"Is it going to be me or your promise to Dixon? Choose. You can either love me and trust me, or you can keep your word to my fucking brother, but you can't do both." With my heart in my eyes, I implore him to make the right decision, my voice a cocktail of love, desperation, and defiance.

"I can't let you go back there, Dani." His words cut through me, a crushing confirmation of my worst fears: we're over. Our love is nothing compared to his fucking honor. "It wouldn't be love letting you go back there, it'd be cowardice. I know you can't see that now, but this is the right decision."

Almost there.

The knots are almost undone.

One more good pull, and then I'll be free. I just need a distraction so I can make that happen.

"So we're done then," I whisper. It hurts, and I'll grieve the death of our relationship later, but right now, I have more important things on my mind. The lives of my friends and little Luca Morgan Taylor.

He closes his eyes, tilts his face toward the ceiling, a deep sigh filling his chest.

"Don't do this, Dani..."

Seizing the moment of his inattention, I break free from my restraints and launch into action, leaping from the chair and running to the staff refrigerator that sits not twenty feet away. I'm there before Owen even realizes I'm out of my seat.

"Dani, what the fuck are you doing?" He shouts.

I open the fridge and am greeted by the beautiful sight of dozens of beer cans, all neatly stacked on the shelves. Lovely ammunition. I grab one, it's cold, it fits right in my palm.

I whirl around and hurl it, zipping the freezing projectile right by Owen's ear.

He blinks, as if the sight of me hurling cold cans of beer at his head is too ludicrous to believe. Well, believe it or not, Marine, that was only a warning shot. The next one's going to take you out.

Taking the next can in hand before the other one's even hit the wall, I channel every ounce of my softball pitching skills.

"You chose poorly, Owen," I say, copying the intonation of the Knight of the Grail in one of my favorite movies,Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

"What the…?"

The can I hurl connects right with his cranium at fifty-miles-per-hour. It's one of my slower pitches, about the same velocity I'd use for a curveball, not a fastball, but it's still hard enough to knock him unconscious with a heady thunk.

As Owen collapses, I freeze for a moment. A hurt sob wracks my chest, then another.

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