Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 107096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
I swallowed, glad that he couldn’t see my face. Then I planted my feet against the wall and pushed as hard as I could. He staggered backwards into the center of the room, fighting to keep his balance. There was a crash of glass: I guessed he’d just put his boot through the glass coffee table. He stayed on his feet but his grip on me loosened a little and that was all I needed. I whirled around and slipped out of my jacket, leaving him gripping it by the sleeve.
I dived for the door. He sidestepped and I crashed into a chest that felt like warm rock. I lashed out, desperate now, clawing at his face with my nails. His huge hands chased mine and then lunged, capturing one wrist. Then he did the same with the other and suddenly I was powerless, my hands grabbing at the air either side of my head.
I panted, my breathing shaky. I could see his tattoos better, now: it was definitely a wing, leathery like a bat’s, on one arm, and what I’d thought was a vine was a tail wrapped around the other. It wasn’t two tattoos, it was one really big one, some sort of monster that must cover his entire chest or back.
I glared up at him.
“Are you gonna behave?” he demanded.
In answer, I scraped my foot down the inside of his shin. It must have hurt, but his only response was a tightening of his mouth. Then he tugged me up against him. I gasped as my breasts pillowed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, pinning my arms to my sides. Then he hooked one leg around my legs so that I was completely wrapped up and powerless.
“Now are you gonna behave?” he asked.
I struggled, but I could barely move at all. And every time I shifted, I could feel the hardness of his cock rubbing against me, the heat of it soaking straight through the denim of my jeans and the thin cotton of my panties to radiate out through my groin. With any other man, I’d have worried about provoking him into taking advantage of the situation. But with him I knew, on a gut level, that he wouldn’t do that. My whole job was sniffing out the corrupt and morally weak men, so I could tempt them into betraying their countries. That meant being able to spot the good ones, too. And this man, whoever he was, was one of those.
I stopped struggling.
At that moment, the other men arrived, led by an older guy with amazing, pale blue eyes. “What happened to quiet?” he asked in an accent that was pure, sun-baked Texan. He looked around the living room and the bedroom beyond and, for the first time, I took in the devastation: we’d completely wrecked the place.
“Sorry, boss,” muttered the man holding me. “She got away from me. But I got her in hand, now.”
Oh, do you? I scowled up at him and he glared back at me.
The Texan looked towards one of the other men, who was listening to a radio. “Gabriel, any sign of the cops?”
Gabriel shook his head. “Not yet, but we gotta figure the neighbors are calling them right now. We should get out of here.”
The Texan nodded and keyed his radio. “Cal, we’re securing the package now, be out in a minute.”
The man holding me—I still didn’t know his name—looked around on the floor. I looked, too, and spotted the handcuffs lying amongst the debris behind me. He must have dropped them during our fight.
Another man, younger, with green eyes, stepped forward. “It’s alright, mate. I’ll get ‘em” His accent was British and he gave me what he must have thought was a charming grin as he picked up the cuffs. Then he stepped up behind me to put them on. “Ease up on her,” he told the man holding me. “I’ve got her.”
“Careful,” growled the man holding me. “She’s a slippery little thing.” But he reluctantly unwound his arms so the Brit could put the cuffs on.
I stayed passive and meek while the Brit gently pulled one arm behind me. I felt one cuff close on my wrist and ratchet tight. Then he reached for the other wrist.
I craned around and looked up at him over my shoulder, making my eyes go as big and scared as I could. “Please, that’s too tight.” I bit my lip for effect and forced tears into my eyes. “You’re hurting me!”
The Brit looked horrified. He let go of my arms for a second...and that’s all it took. I whirled around, using the handcuffs that dangled from one wrist like a whip, and managed to catch him on the side of the face. As he staggered sideways, I dived and forward-rolled, coming up next to the dining table. Then I grabbed the gun I kept taped to the underside and turned to fire.