They started to drag her down the small restroom hallway toward an emergency exit.
There went her chance of being seen and helped.
Fuck this. If they got her out that door and into a fucking car, she’d be dead or worse.
She struggled again, jerking against their hold and wrenching her head to free her mouth. All she managed to do was wear herself out and swallow a mouthful of blood.
Together the assholes dragged her, kicking and muffled-screaming toward the exit. As they got close, the door opened, and a third masked fucker entered the hallway. “Got the biker. He’s unconscious in the van.”
Her eyes popped wide.
Maverick?
What the hell was going on?
Stephanie fought like a wildcat then, biting, kicking, hollering, and thrashing. She became a madwoman possessed with the need to escape.
“Jesus, fuck, this one is one annoying bitch,” the small guy said as she bit into the flesh of his palm. “Fuck!” He yanked his hand away, and she screamed at the top of her lungs.
A fraction of a second later, a fist hit the side of her head.
She saw stars and sagged just long enough for them to get her out the door and toss her like a sack of flour into the back of a van.
She hit the ground with a hard thump as the door slammed shut.
“Anyone riding in the back with them?” she heard through the door, but her brain was fuzzy from the blow, and she couldn’t make sense of her surroundings.
“Nah, Digger and I will drive. Rest of you in the truck. Move your asses. She screamed her fucking head off in there. Someone’ll call the cops.”
Doors slammed, echoing in an aching throb through Stephanie’s sore head. Prone on the ground with her hands bound, she blinked through the fuzzy pain. As the fog cleared and her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she noticed a lump on the floor beside her.
“Maverick,” she whispered as the van lurched forward.
Best she could in the moving vehicle, she rolled to her back then scrambled to her knees. After an awkward shuffle across the floor, she collapsed over Maverick’s still form.
“M-mav? Oh, Jesus, please be okay.”
She shoved her ear to his chest. The steady thump of his wonderful heart had her sagging in immense relief.
“Come on, Mav, wake up.” She nudged him with her shoulder, then sat back on her heels.
As she stared at his form, the past slammed into her like a two-by-four. They’d been here before. Captive, helpless, at the mercy of psychos who wished them harm.
She’d been forced to witness Maverick’s torture as he diverted their jailer's attention away from her.
And that was before he knew her.
Before he’d married her.
Before he loved her.
Now? Christ, the stubborn man would give his own damn life in a heartbeat to spare her an ounce of pain.
“Jesus.” She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t draw in air. If her hands had been free, she’d have been clawing at her throat. As it was, all she could do was kneel there and make awful whistling gasps as she fought for oxygen.
Sweat ran down her face. The darkened interior of the van grew even fuzzier. Her chest ached. It felt as though a tourniquet tightened around her chest with each passing second.
She choked as her throat constricted. Tears poured down her cheeks.
They couldn’t be here again. She couldn’t watch Mav be hurt. Wouldn’t survive if something traumatizing happened to him.
This was supposed to be their vacation. It was Christmas week. Sun, sand, and sex.
Now they were living in a nightmare for the second time.
Even through the darkness, she noticed her vision tunneling. This was it. She’d pass out and wake up in some fresh hell.
Hopefully, Maverick would still be with her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MAV’S EARS RANG, and his brain pounded as though Santa’s entire fucking team of reindeer had tromped their merry way through his skull. He shifted and groaned. His body ached as if he’d been in a car accident. His knee, in particular, hurt like hell.
Christ, what the hell had happened?
Shit, had he been in an actual car accident?
The last thing he remembered was cruising out of Lithia on a borrowed bike. Steph had been at his back. After an hour or so, they’d stopped for dinner at a greasy spoon kind of diner…
Shit.
The events of the day charged him like a rabid linebacker.
He’d been fucking ambushed.
Stephanie! Where the hell was she?
A strangled sob penetrated the fog of his recollections. Without any further details, he knew it was her. Something inside her had always called to him, and though he’d never believed in any new age woo-woo shit, he fully recognized the connection they had. The one that transcended the earthly world. Mav swore he knew the second his wife walked into a room. He also understood her needs, desires, and moods on a primal level. Call it what you want; they shared a connection that couldn’t be explained with simple science.