The second guy raised an eyebrow. “You expect us to believe that?”
“She’s lying,” the first guy said. “She’s a cop.”
“What? No, I’m not. I swear!”
At least this one was true.
“If you’re not a cop, then you’re a nosy girl,” the first guy said, lowering his gun. “Do you know what we do to nosy girls like you?”
“Um…you—you let us go?” I asked, stalling while I observed the two men, running calculations in my head on how to take them down.
They weren’t huge or muscular—just two regular guys armed with guns. One was a tiny bit taller than me. The other, not so much.
The first guy nodded at the second. “Show the bitch what we do to her kind.”
Bitch?
Yeah, I hated that word.
The idiot must’ve underestimated me because he tucked his gun into his pants and approached me with an intimidating look on his face.
Big mistake.
Even the previous guy had lowered his gun and was lighting a cigarette when his partner approached me.
His hand lunged for my wrist, but I was faster, trapping his arm in mine. And with a sharp wrench downward, I twisted hard, a sickening crack echoing through the room. He yelled in anguish, but before he could make another move, I shoved his weight forward, denting his skull into the edge of the steel table beside me.
“What the fuck?” The other guy’s eyes widened in shock, his cigarette falling from his lips.
He lifted his gun, aiming at me—too slow. I’d already unsheathed my knife, and with a flick of my wrist, the blade spun through the gloom. He grunted at the impact after the knife sank hilt-deep into the right side of his chest. He stumbled and fell backward with a loudthud.
The other guy, still dazed from the impact, staggered to his feet, his head bleeding uncontrollably. He clutched his broken arm, his eyes blazing with fury, and right before he could throw a punch, I kicked him hard in the chest. He crashed into the crates.
This was my window, my chance to escape, and I took it. However, before I could reach the door, three other guys barreled in, blocking my path. They glanced back at their injured comrades and decided to launch an attack.
I dodged their blows and kicks, retaliating with my own, and soon the sounds of thick grunts filled the space. I was almost certain these men were wondering deep down how I could stand toe to toe with all three of them at the same time.
Well, I was trained by the U.S. Army, so I wasn’t just good with weapons; I was good with my fists, too. These guys were stronger, and that’s why I avoided their punches at all costs. One blow was enough to knock me unconscious.
This whole time, none of us had fired a bullet—not even once.
I drove my knee into the ribs of my closest opponent, then used his momentum to flip him hard onto the floor. Another lunged with a pipe, but I was quick to duck under the swing, my fist crushing my attacker’s balls.
His eyes widened in pain, his hands flying to his groin as if to help soothe the agony. “Bitch!” he cursed under his breath, straining with veins lining his forehead.
The second I turned around to face the last guy, I met a blow that almost crushed my skull. It was so powerful that it turned my head with a sickening crack. I honestly thought my neck was broken, and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor.
My vision was hazy, and the ringing in my ears wouldn’t stop. His heavy footsteps echoed off the walls as he marched toward me, slow and deliberate. I tried to stand, but my head was too heavy, my body too numb to move.
I could hear the sound of my own heart hammering like a drum in my heaving chest. Fear crept in, stealing my breath and leaving me vulnerable.
“The bitch broke my arm,” one of them grumbled, kicking me hard in the ribs.
I groaned on the floor, surrounded by these dangerous men, whom I’d just pissed off.
“Hold her down,” one of them ordered the others.
Before I could do anything else, I was restrained—hands and feet pinned to the floor so tightly that I could barely move. I struggled to fight back, but they were stronger.
