Chapter 22 #2
“All right.” He pushed away from the table, and he and Rogue made their way out of the hotel.
Every step he took pounded with intent. The cords in his muscles were strung tightly, his body wired and ready for retribution.
He’d find Molly. Had to. If he didn’t let himself have even a shred of hope, he’d have no reason to put one foot in front of the other.
Once he got his hands on the fuckers who took her, there’d be a path of blood in his wake.
Stall. That was all she could do.
Molly stayed huddled in her little cave, refusing to look at the man jeering at her. He was right. She had no way out. They’d get her eventually, but she’d be damned if she’d go to them willingly. The quicker she fell into their hands, the quicker they’d drug her.
Willy was going to sell her—that meant she’d be taken off this island.
She couldn’t let that happen. If Atlas managed to find out that they’d taken her here, leaving would be the worst thing she could do. The more times she moved, the harder it’d be for him to track her down.
A burst of light combined with a sizzling sound burst outside of the cave. A bright-red flare stick was thrown into the cavern, letting off a plume of smoke. Molly coughed and covered her nose and mouth with her arm.
The thick, pungent cloud filled the cave in seconds. Heat radiated off the flare. Smoke particles rushed into her nose and mouth. She plugged her nose and held her breath, but her eyes burned despite being squeezed shut.
Her chest demanded air. If she didn’t take in a breath, she’d pass out. Burying her face in her sleeve, she inhaled. A metallic scent hit the back of her throat like tiny daggers. She coughed and wheezed.
A cry tore from her lips. Either a plea or curse, she wasn’t sure. She blinked rapidly, searching for a pocket of clean air, but the entire cave was filled with a black cloud.
She twisted onto her stomach again. Her legs were close to the opening, but she had to—
A hand gripped her ankle.
Molly cried out as she was yanked backward. She clawed at the jagged rock, tearing her hands, kicking and squirming.
He yanked again and her shirt rose up on her belly. Her flesh tore. Another hard pull and her legs were through the opening. Rough hands grabbed her arms and hauled her away from the cave.
She fell on the sand, and for a moment, she was filled with relief. Hungrily, she inhaled the ocean air. Rain pelted her body.
Angry fingers sank into her wet hair. Her attacker twisted her strands, circling her around to face him. She cried out and clutched at her scalp.
“Let’s get the hell outta the rain, Chris,” said the man who’d retrieved the flare, his body shaking.
“Dumb bitch,” Chris hissed in her face.
He tossed her away from him and she landed hard. Unforgiving stones smacked against her knees. A foot pushed her in the ass.
“Move, or I’ll fucking drag you by your hair.”
She clenched her teeth and got to her feet.
Sand and silt stuck to her sopping-wet leggings and palms, and her wet clothing and aching body weighed down every step.
Tiny stones dug into the soles of her feet.
The stairs loomed before her. The wooden slats glistened in the rain.
Her gaze flew to the sea and searched the endless, choppy surface for help.
She needed to do something. Run, fight, swim. She couldn’t let them take her back to the house.
She trudged forward. The rain fell in sheets, the sound loud against her senses.
The dock came into view. The motorboat bobbed and swayed violently, bumping loudly against the wood.
The chances of her reaching it were slim. The chances of her getting away and surviving the ocean were even slimmer.
She needed a weapon. She scanned the wall of the bluff and the ground in front of her. Just stones upon stones and . . . a rock a little bigger than a baseball, smack-dab in front of her.
She pretended to trip over her own feet and let out a sharp squeak as she went down next to it. Grasping its smooth, wet surface, she murmured a prayer.
“Get up!” Chris bellowed.
She got to her feet. His mean fingers gripped her bicep. Summoning her strength, she swung the rock at his head.
Crack!
Chris let out a grunt then collapsed in the sand. Blood gushed from his head. The other man leapt toward her. She swung the rock at him but missed. He caught her arm and flung the weapon from her fingers.
“You’re going to pay for that!” he yelled, furious.
She fought away the terror. If she didn’t escape now, she might not get another shot. She’d taken one down. She wouldn’t let her efforts be in vain.
He pinned her wrists together at the small of her back. “Chris!” he shouted over the rain. “You all right?”
Chris rolled into a sitting position, his head cradled in his hands. “Take her back to Willy and send someone down here.”
“Got it.” He nudged her forward with his free hand, his fingers piercing a spot between her shoulder blades. “Move!”
She took three steps and her gaze landed on a log just two feet ahead of her. She dug her heels into the sand and, using all her force, tore her wrists out of his grip. Diving for the log, she snagged it and then swung as he lunged for her.
The wood collided with his face. He staggered, cursed, but didn’t go down. She swung again. He stopped the blow, catching the log with his hand. Rage sparked in his eyes. She let out an animalistic cry and kicked him between his legs.
He groaned and his eyes went wide. Cupping his jewels, he sucked in a breath and dropped to his knees. She took one more swing. The blow sent him sideways into the sand.
“Fucking cunt!” Chris got to his feet, his stance wobbly and his head still bleeding.
No!
Molly turned and ran, dropping the log.
The quick rasp of Chris’s feet moving over the sand grew closer and closer.
She’d never make it.