He soon grew tired of the game, and released her with one of his hands then punched her in the side of the head, catching her temple. She cried out, the force of the blow making her vision swim, but she refused to stop fighting. She wouldneverstop fighting him. She screamed at the top of her lungs, her frustration making her fight harder still, and she managed to rip her right arm free. She swung it at him, punching with all her strength and terror, but she might as well have been hitting him with a feather for all the effect it had.
He pinned her in place with his heavy body as he reached for the belt on his jeans. He managed to undo the buckle and was pulling down the zipper when Aria spotted something. In his haste to get what he wanted; he’d made a fatal error. Hope and terror welled in her stomach as her gaze snagged on the knife he’d dropped to the floor in his rush to open his jeans. While his hands were occupied trying to open his pants, Aria reached out and wrapped her hand around the knife, inching it toward her. He didn’t even notice.
It was a struggle trying to open the sheath one handed, and she fought to free her other hand, but to no avail. Then, to her horror, she was suddenly out of time. He’d managed to free himself from the confines of his pants and reached for the button on her jeans. She bucked and fought wildly then, but the top button popped open. Panic flooded her, and she writhed and twisted with renewed fury, but nothing seemed to work.
She gave up trying to get the scabbard off the knife and brought it down against his lower back with all her might. He grunted in pain, then must have realized what she’d hit him with because his eyes flared with fury, and he let go of her other hand so that he had both hands free to retrieve the knife.
“Stupid bitch!” he shouted, his spittle hitting her in the face. “You pay for that. Crazy, stupid American bitch!”
He caught hold of her wrist and bent it back at an unnatural angle. Aria screamed in pain and the knife fell from her hand and clattered to the floor. Angry tears sprang forth from the corners of her eyes and he laughed wildly at her distress. He picked up the knife and opened the scabbard with a simple flick of his wrist. But before he could remove the weapon, the front door crashed open, and a hulking figure charged into the room with a roar that sounded like a battle cry. Nash.
He took in the sight before him then lunged for the man, grabbing him and yanking him away from Aria. He brought his fist back and slammed it into the man’s face once, twice, then a third time before someone grabbed him from behind and tried to pull him off the man. Aria didn’t see who it was because she couldn’t take her eyes off Nash. He had saved her. That was all she could think about. Nash had rescued her. But he was out of his mind with anger.
“Nash,” she whispered, surprised at how hoarse her voice was.
She didn’t think he would have been able to hear her over the sound of his roars, but he snapped his head in her direction and it was as if just looking at her made him come back to his senses.
He threw the man into the corner of the room as easily as though he was tossing a rag doll and he hit the wall with a dull thud. Then Nash fell to his knees on the hard concrete floor and reached for Aria. He pulled her into his arms with a sob and as he held her, she couldn’t contain the emotion that had welled up inside of her.
Nash rocked her through her sobs and wails, all the while stroking the top of her head and whispering soothing words in her ear.
“It’s okay now. I’ve got you, you’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Aria listened to the sound of his voice and breathed in his already familiar scent and felt herself starting to calm down from the hysteria that had her in its clutches. She drew in a few shaky breaths and then the last of her tears fell.
Finally, she moved back out of Nash’s embrace and looked up to meet his gaze. Her heart ached at the desolate expression on his face and when she looked into his eyes, it was as if no one was home. Like he was there with her physically, but his mind was some place far away.
“Nash,” she whispered.
He continued to rock even though she wasn’t wrapped in his embrace anymore.
“Nash, baby?” she said in an effort to get through to him. “It’s okay. I’m all right. Nash?”
It took a few more attempts at saying his name before he finally snapped out of whatever daze he’d been in.
“Aria?” he said, finally looking at her.
She nodded. “I’m okay,” she said again, hoping that this time it would get through to him.
He sagged as if all his breath had left him in a whoosh. “You’re okay.”
After a few more moments of them staring into one another’s eyes, Nash seemed to come back to himself. He scanned her from head to toe, cataloguing her injuries, then noticed that the button and zipper of her jeans were open. He let out a roar of agony, but Aria was quick to reassure him.
“He didn’t touch me,” she said. “Not like that. He didn’t get the chance. You saved me.”
Nash reached out and carefully did up the button and zipper on her jeans. He let out a low growl and turned to where he’d thrown the man, but he wasn’t there—Nash’s SWAT teammates had cuffed the man and taken him out of the room.
Aria’s eyes widened. “There were three of them. The other two went to Mario’s house to try to find Diego maybe fifteen—twenty minutes ago.”
Nash looked up at a woman agent who was standing near the doorway
“I’m on it,” she said as she pulled out her cellphone, dialed a number and began relaying the information to someone, speaking in calm, stoic tones.
“There’s a team heading over there now,” she said when she ended the call. “Don’t worry, we’ll get them.”
Aria sagged back. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, everything hurt, and it was all she could do to keep from shaking.
“Come on, let’s get you up off the floor,” Nash said. “And out of this dirty room.”
