The Alpha Bodyguards Books #4-6

Chapter Twenty-One

W histling, two guns back in his holsters, Santos walked into the room by himself.

Fear crept up my spine.

Not making eye contact, not even looking at the bed, he kicked the door shut, then turned in a circle as he kept whistling something out of tune. Striding to the opposite side of the wardrobe, he looked at it a moment.

Then with one giant push, he toppled the whole thing.

It crashed to the polished tile floors with an earsplitting crack and blocked the door.

But Santos wasn’t finished.

He shoved it tight against the only escape for the room unless you wanted to jump out the second-story window.

The gag, soaked by my own spit, cut into the corners of my mouth as I pulled against my restraints.

Santos turned and grinned at me. “Now, where were we?”

I glared at him.

Stalking toward the bed, he unbuckled his belt.

Fear overtook anger and I forgot about staying quiet.

Shoving his pants down, he crawled between my spread and bound legs.

I started to scream.

And scream and scream and scream.

My restraints cut into my wrists and fear bled out of my pores, mixing with the acrid scent of his sweat and my blood, but nothing except muffled cries sounded past my gag.

“What’s wrong, puppet ,” he practically sneered, stroking himself. “Never fucked on your period before?”

I’d never fucked at all.

He gripped a handful of my hair and nudged at my inner thigh. “You’re in for a treat, bitch.”

Sheer panic had my body arcing to try to throw him off, but it was useless. I was tied down and gagged, and he was almost twice my weight. Terrified, incensed, helpless, I did the only thing I could think of.

I sucked in a deep breath.

Then I held it and went still, forcing myself to let my body go limp.

His heavy weight pressed down on me for one heartbeat, two…

“Hey,” he snapped. “What the fuck?”

I lay perfectly prone.

His weight shifted, and a swift movement of air disturbed my hair before his hand made contact with my face.

The fucking asshole slapped me.

Then he slapped the other side of my face.

Blood soaked into the gag, but I lay motionless.

Someone pounded on the bedroom door, and my heart jumped, but I still lay perfectly still.

Whoever it was banged again.

Then I heard his deep voice. “Open the fucking door, Santos,” Ty growled, banging again.

Ignoring Ty, Santos moved over me, then the restraint across my head loosened a second before he slapped me harder. “Wake the fuck up, bitch.”

The echo of the slap sounded through the bedroom, and my head whipped to the left.

Ty rattled the door. “Open up, motherfucker!”

Blood pooled in the back of my throat, my hair covered my face, but I still didn’t move.

I was waiting.

My head was unrestrained, and it wasn’t much, but it was enough. All I needed to do was wait until he got his head close enough to mine, then I could make my move.

But Santos did the last thing I expected.

He plugged my nose.

My reaction was immediate.

My eyes popped open, I tried to suck in a breath past the gag and I jerked away from him.

His face red, his breath rancid, he laughed. “That’s what I thought.” He grabbed my throat, releasing my nose. “You wanna breath play, bitch?” He squeezed my throat. “I’ll fucking give you breath play.”

I screamed around the gag.

The door to the bedroom shook hard, then the wood by the handle splintered.

Santos chuckled as he yanked my bra down. “Don’t worry, puppet . Your savior won’t get in here before I get you good and fucked.”

A chunk of the wood from the door flew into the room a second before the barrel of a rifle came through the hole.

“Last chance, Santos,” Ty warned, his voice low and controlled. “Open the door or die.”

Santos didn’t even pause.

His hand on his dick, he surged toward me.

His body touched between my legs, and a gunshot went off.

The headboard splintered, and Santos moved.

Rolling to his back, crossing his arms, he grabbed both guns at once. Whipping them out of the holsters, uncrossing his arms, he started firing at the door with both guns.

The sound deafening, the room filling with the smell of metallic burning, the door fractured into shards of wood.

But Santos didn’t stop. He fired every last one of his bullets. Then he smirked and crossed his arms, shoving his guns back in his holsters. “Now.” He leered at me. “Where were we?” He rolled on top of me.

My heart in my throat, it was now or never.

I pushed my head back into the pillows to get as much leverage as I could.

But before I thrust my head forward, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

The window overlooking the ocean shattered as Ty flew through it. Holding the exterior top sill with one hand, a rifle in his other, he aimed at Santos’s head as his feet hit the floor.

“Get. The fuck . OFF HER.”