Mending Hearts (The American Soldier Collection 11)

Darkness filled the cabin now. The only light was from a small fire in the fireplace. His evil face was slightly shadowed, giving him an even eerier look.

He backhanded her.

“Your punishment has just begun, Alana.”

He pulled out a knife and began to wipe it back and forth on his thigh. He was dressed in camouflage, and he wore a dark green T-shirt that showed off his muscles and his scars. He held her gaze, and she saw how wild and animalistic he looked. He wasn’t sane. She understood that. But trying to talk to him was her only option. She couldn’t physically fight a Marine, a madman. She needed to be smart and buy herself time.

Neil stared at her. She could feel the evil, the power of his emotions. Her breath caught in her throat, and her body ached everywhere, including her face and her lips.

She didn’t know why she said it. Her thoughts were scattered, and she was overwhelmed with fear. But instincts had a strange way of making decisions for people.

“I’m sorry, Neil.” She bowed her head and even that brought pain to her shoulders, her neck, and belly.

There was nothing. No response, either verbally or physically, until a few moments later when her heart was racing and she was begging God, someone, to give her the tools, the knowledge to get free from this nightmare

She heard the chair scrape across the dirty wood floor. It fell over and crashed down, but she remained staring down, her hands on her lap over her thighs where she knelt before him.

His military-issued boots came into view, the camouflage green-and-black pants, along with a stance that said he was looking down at her with hatred and disgust.

He gripped her hair and tilted her head back. She gasped and started to react, moving her hands but pulling them back. She kept them on her thighs.

“Please don’t hit me again. I can’t take it,” she said through swollen lips.

“Say it again,” he told her in a deep, raspy voice.

To the side, by the window, she saw something. A flash of black, maybe a tiny red light like that on a sniper rifle. Could help be out there? He gave her head a shake, and she cried out.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry, Neil.”

He pulled her up to her knees. The wood scraped her skin, and she felt it tear her flesh.

He held that grip with one hand and used his other to caress her cheek then move over her neck to her shoulder.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, Alana.”

She saw the knife on his hip. It was clipped to his waist by a small leather snap. She wondered if she was fast enough to grab it and use it against him.

He pulled her closer.

“I said you’ll have to do better than a verbal apology.”

He pressed his crotch closer to her, and she understood what he wanted. He wanted her to touch him. To perhaps pleasure him. Could she do it and strike when he was lost in the sensations she gave him? She shivered and nearly gagged just thinking about doing such a thing.

She ran her hands, though still tied together but with about ten inches leeway, up his thighs. Her thumbs hit his crotch, and his cock instantly hardened.

“That’s it. Keep going. We’ve got forever, Alana.”

He gave her orders and told her to undo his pants, and she felt the tears roll down her cheeks. She had no control over it, and her mind began to panic and plan.

I’m not going to do this. I won’t let him rape me. I won’t do what he says. I have to grab the knife. I have to try. I can’t do what he’s asking of me.

Alana’s heart was racing so fast she could hardly swallow or catch her breath. She shook profusely as she reached for his belt and began to undo it. Then she heard the noise. So did Neil, as he turned to see, and she lunged for the knife.

* * * *

Alana’s screams could be heard through the cabin walls. Gabe and his team were right behind SWAT as they began to infiltrate the house.

They heard what was happening over the radio. The SWAT commander had a visual and was waiting to make his move. But then someone stepped on a broken plank of wood on the porch, and they had to move in.