Captured By The Mercenaries

CHAPTER4

Colby

Igroaned and shifted on my bunk. Why did they have to make these things hard as a rock? Something pricked at the back of my mind. I tried to shove the insistent thought away so I could sleep longer.

It kept nagging at me until I opened my eyes. Barren walls met my view. I wasn’t at the base, in my bunk. Sunlight streamed in through one lonely window. I sucked in a harsh breath as I remembered the night before and everything that’d happened. The wreck, the fight...the explosion. Grief was thick in my chest as I remembered it all.

My heart and head played a competitive game to see which could throb harder. I went to reach a hand up to touch the back of my head when I saw that they were still bound together by a strip of black fabric. I was reminded of the men who’d taken me.

That was when I realized I’d been stripped of my uniform and boots. I was lying on my back on a cot in my panties and bra and a huge, burly forearm was lying over my hips. The mystery about my lack of clothing was replaced by concern over who this massive appendage belonged to. I studied the arm, it was dusted in dark hair and was damn near the width of one of my thighs. I wasn’t a tiny woman. At five-eleven I had a solid muscular frame. Yet this guy dwarfed me.

Slowly, I glanced over, being careful not to wake him. It was the man who’d grabbed me and launched us out of the window last night. I should probably feel grateful to him. He’d saved my life. Only...I shouldn’t be alive. Not when my team had died. Grief rose again, stabbing at me as I thought about my team. I’d never see Chas again. My heart shattered into a million pieces.

My sadness was so overwhelming it took me a moment to realize the man sleeping beside me had woken up. Swallowing back the tears, I squirmed under his arm until I was able to roll over. Facing him, I shoved at his chest, trying to put space between us. He didn’t budge an inch.

Eyes so dark brown they were almost black were staring at me and my heart tripped in my chest. He was watching me calmly, but I felt completely out of control.

Worse, you like this feeling.

I wasn’t ready for that admission so I tucked it back in the recesses of my mind. What did these guys want? Why had they rescued me?Wasthis a rescue? I wanted to ask him, shout at him, but it wouldn’t do any good. We didn’t understand each other.

He murmured something in Russian. It sounded soothing, but for all I knew he could be telling me he was going to kill me now that I was awake. The thought made every bit of moisture flee my mouth. I swallowed hard.

He asked me something, raising his hand to wipe the tears I hadn’t realized were falling from my cheeks.

“Look, I don’t speak Russian.” I shoved at his hand then frowned when he gripped the back of my neck, pulling me toward him. He’d stopped brushing those huge fingers over my cheeks, though. I didn’t want him touching me and our bodies were currently plastered together on the small cot.

“Let me go,” I snarled at him.

Those eyes grew blacker and he glowered at me. “Het.”

“Fuck off,” I told him. The nerve of him thinking he could tell me no when I was asking him to stop touching me was astounding.

I looked around and realized we were sleeping in a room with two other cots. The building was a one room shack. If the crumbling brick was any indication it was dilapidated on the outside and barely more than a mud hut.

The man who’d held me still last night, so their friend could tie me up, was sleeping next to us, but the third cot was empty. There wasn’t much else in the room. No bathroom, no sink, no kitchen equipment at all. How were they living here?

My eyes went back to the sleeping man. His blond hair was tousled and his face looked almost angelic. Even the devil had started out an angel, so this man’s good looks didn’t mean he wasn’t a dick.

The man I was in bed with dragged me more firmly against his chest. As if there was any spare space between us to begin with. I gasped as I pressed against him, his chest hair tickling my nose, and realized he wasn’t wearing many clothes—if any. In my perusal of the shack I’d missed that fact, though I wasn’t sure how. My head was pounding and aching, reminding me of the events from yesterday once again.

I didn’t survive a helicopter crash and a bombing to get raped. I shoved at his massive chest again, trying to get some distance. My fingers curled into the springy hair that covered the broad surface. This close I could see he had tattoos gliding down his chest. His arms were covered with them as well. The hair on his chest was as black as it was on his head and face. His arms just tightened more around me as he tried to go back to sleep.

“I’ll fuck you up, asshole,” I told him through gritted teeth.

His brow arched, a dare if I’d ever seen one, but he didn’t bother to open his eyes. It was insulting. He wasn’t even worried about my threats or resistance. Or he just didn’t understand them. Either way his nonchalance was pissing me off.

I jerked back my arms, ready to power my bound fists forward into his very chiseled abs. Before I had a chance he rolled and pinned me beneath him. The air that escaped was a wheeze as I tried to breathe with him on top of me. He weighed as much as a fucking hippo.

There was little point in trying to fight again. The air was trapped in my lungs and I couldn’t move much in my position. My head started to spin at the lack of oxygen.

He must have realized my dilemma because he used one of his tree trunk sized arms to angle himself off of me, easing the pressure on my chest.

Sucking in a deep breath, I panted as he stared down at me. Those dark eyes were open now and he looked irritated.

Welcome to the club, asshole.

He said something to me again and brushed a lock of hair off my face. He was being gentle with his touches, despite his iron grip that was preventing me from leaving his bed. It was a conundrum that confused the hell out of me. Especially since I didn’t know why I was here.