Almostimpossible.
“Okay.” My voice shook, exposing my fear as I stepped toward my backpack.
The brunet threw an annoyed look at the blond, “You did not have to use your sinndra on her, you impatient prick.”
Slowly, stiffly, I reached down to grab my backpack.
“She was being unreasonable,” the blond replied, unrepentant.
As if in response to his words, my fear was starting to fade, but the men looked disarmed by my fear, so I leaned into it while I opened my bag and started slowly going through it, “L-let me just make sure I-I have everything.”
Jesus, was it because they were tall? Larger than any man I had ever seen? Perhaps that’s why my fight, flight, or (in this case) freeze instincts were at the wheel right now.
“Hurry up,” the blond muttered, standing taller as he glanced around the docks. “It reeks here.”
“Do not be rude,” the brunet grumbled, studying me. “But we do need to hurry.”
I nodded, stepping toward them. “Okay.”
I waited until the blond reached his hand toward me, because I determined him to be the bigger threat at the moment. Hisobvious disdain and annoyance gave me less of a chance to make it out of this, whereas I suspected the brunet man had some compassion. He was trying a gentler approach with me.
Perhaps it was their weird version of the good cop, bad cop act.
When the blond reached for me, stupidly expecting me to take his hand, I wrapped my fingers around the police stick that I carried around in my purse my entire adult life. Ever since I stole it from one of my foster fathers the night that he—no. I shook my head, pushing the horrid memories away.
Instead, I snapped the police stick open.
Andthwackedit across the blond’s head.
This was the very first time I actually had to use it, but I couldn’t feel excited about it.
Because even though there was a satisfying sound when it connected with his skull, he didn’t drop to the ground as I expected. He stumbled, bracing himself, shouting in a language I didn’t understand. Then he kicked his leg out and swiped my feet, and I fell to the ground.
“Our orders wereunharmed,” the dark-haired man growled, reaching down for me.
I grunted and tried to hit him with my police stick instead, but he snatched the weapon and yanked it out of my hand. I watched in horror as the brunet gripped both ends of the police stick with his large hands, bent it in half, and tossed it overboard.
Through my shock, I still managed to punch the brunet in the face.
Hard. Right across his cheek and nose. Blood should have started spouting from his nostrils at this point. But he barely flinched from the hit, even though my knuckles were throbbing now.
What the fuck, what the fuck.
My dread spiked again as the blond reached down to wrap his fingers around my biceps and yank me up, but I was panicking. Flailing. Screaming.
“You escalated this,” the brunet scolded his companion. Then he started shushing me as he grabbed both of my wrists, turning me to face him as he said, “We don’t want to hurt you.” The only proof I had that I had just successfully punched him in the face was a quick sniff and twitch of his nose.
“ButI’mgoing to hurt you,” I promised, lifting my knee up to impact him in the groin. His clear, bright eyes widened in pain before he grunted, tightening his hold on my wrists to a painful grip. His accomplice groaned behind me, and when I turned around to see where he was, he released one of my biceps to snap his fist back and punch me in the face. The base of my neck made an audible cracking sound, and as stars danced across my vision, fear that I was now paralyzed flittered through my mind.
The brunet shouted something at his companion from somewhere nearby. I was so disoriented that I couldn’t stand. As soon as the two men let go of me, I collapsed to the deck of my boat.
Desperately blinking, I rolled to the side to see the men bickering with each other in another language. The blond was glaring down at me with disgust, and the brunet was shoving him hard. Scolding him.
Even while seeing double, I rolled onto my stomach and started slowly army crawling to the main cabin.
“Stop.” The blond’s voice was the only warning I had before something heavy pressed itself down on my ankle.
I heard, rather than felt, the snap of the joint. White hot pain scorched my leg.
