Page 62 of Altered By Fire (Undercover Sinners 1)
When he swings at me again, I grab his arm and, by the grace of God, manage to stop him from hitting me a second time. But holy crap, it's a strain to hold back someone who's rippling with muscles when I'm soft and useless. It's in that moment that I wish I could go back and train with Hawke, that I really could be a part of his group. Because while I've been a mob daughter my whole life, I never belonged. I wasn't a part of anything, just a kept creature along for the ride.
Our struggle doesn't last long because four other men approach, two of them grabbing me under the arms and hauling me up to my feet, tweaking my shoulders and making me cry out in pain. I bite my lip after that because the sound seems to excite the hell out of them.
The men chat with each other in Russian, but I don't bother to pay much attention to what they're saying—it would only scare the crap out of me. Instead, I look around and try to figure out some trick that'll get me out of this. Because brute strength and guns don't work, and that's exactly what these assholes suspect.
I need something else.
As the two men holding me start to move toward the woods—not a good sign—I walk with them, keeping up so that they don't drag me and cause even more pain in my shoulders. I just move willingly and keep my eye out for some distraction I might use to slip free. Outrunning these guys is next to impossible, but if I can come up with something, like I did back at the church, maybe I can make a getaway?
Because now that I'm standing here, I don't feel quite as suicidal as I did before.
I want to live? It's news to me, and it shocks the shit out of me, too.
Catching my foot on some rodent hole, I throw my bodyweight forward. Even though both men are strong and holding me in iron grips, it makes them stumble and distracts them enough for me to lift up both legs and kick the knee of the man on my right. I'm wearing boots that Mace bought me with steel toes and it looks like it hurts.
He loosens his grip enough on my arm that I get a second to yank it free, turning and throwing a punch at the throat of the man on my other side. He's too good for that though, and within seconds, he's got my hand in his and is squeezing my fist so hard, I let out a scream.
With a curse, the man throws me to the ground and drops down, pinning my arms above my head as I kick at him and he throws insults at me in both Russian and English.
"You spoiled little crack whore," he snarls as he tears at his belt. No surprise. Of course I knew they were going to try to rape me. I knew it from moment fucking one. But that doesn't stop me from fighting and screaming, kicking the man in the balls with one of my steel toes. In the distance, I hear the sound of several more cars pulling up, and my captor pauses to look.
There's another vehicle full of my father's men … and a black Cadillac behind it.
He's in there, I think with a jolt of fear. He's fucking in there.
The man untangling his belt pauses and waits while several more of my father's minions make their way over to us.
"Finish up what you're doing and then bring her over," one of the men says, looking down at me like I'm even less than the piece of meat his friend sees me as. Like I'm nothing at all.
So. He's going to let these men have their way with me and then what? If I know Konstantin though, it's because he's curious about the guys I was with in the grocery store parking lot.
Konstantin Petrov does not like to be kept out of the loop on anything. In his world, information trades as well as jewels, weapons, or drugs.
I'm gearing up to kick my would-be rapist in the face when all of a sudden, his head explodes in pink mist and I'm left with slack hands holding me in place, and a body tumbling over and spilling crimson streaks.
Shoving the dead guy off of me, I try not to think too hard about Kisten, and stand up. Legs shaky, I take off toward the woods because there's a good chance my father's just been set upon by some enemies of his. He has a fucking lot of them and rightfully so.
And getting captured by some of Daddy's rivals is as bad or worse than getting kidnapped by him.
