Into the Lair (Falcon Mercenary Group #2)(31)

Could things get any worse? Braden was unconscious in the backseat, and as far as she could tell, Ian was trapped in the driver’s seat. Which meant she was SOL when it came to any help from them.

Story of her life.

Her captor shoved her toward a waiting Ricardo who stood outside his untouched sports car, his expression furious. He backhanded her to the ground in one swift motion. She stayed down, nursing her throbbing cheek, knowing he wanted her to get up so he could go at her again.

Think, Katie, think. How on earth was she going to get herself out of this one?

A hand tangled in her hair and yanked her upright.

“Enough with the hair already,” she growled as she tried to shake free.

Instead of letting her go, the man tightened his grip and shoved her closer to Ricardo. This time when Ricardo hit her in the face, the man holding her prevented her from falling. Warm blood trickled down her chin, but she glared defiantly at Ricardo.

“Quite a man, aren’t you,” she jeered. “Have to have another man hold me so you can beat up on me? Are you afraid of me, Ricardo?” She let her gaze fall to his groin. “How’s the equipment, by the way?”

“Bitch,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m finished toying with you.” He withdrew a switchblade from his pocket and flipped the blade in front of her face in a series of fancy motions.

“I’m going to gut you like a pig and leave you on the side of the road to die.”

She bared her teeth and then spit at him, mimicking the time he’d done the same to her. It landed on his face, and his eyes widened in affronted shock.

He wiped the spittle from his cheek and stared at the back of his hand as if not believing she’d dared to insult him. She steeled herself for his retaliation even while she frantically searched for a way to escape.

The glint of metal flashed, and searing pain tore through her belly. She looked down to see the bright red bloom of blood spread across her abdomen. He’d slashed the knife across her skin instead of plunging the blade deep.

Painful and effective but not life-threatening.

He raised the knife again but a ferocious growl rippled through the air. It sounded so primitive, so vicious, that it raised the hairs at Katie’s nape.

Ricardo’s hand stopped in midair, and his eyes went wide with fear. The hold on Katie’s hair loosened, and the man holding her suddenly bolted away. She turned in time to see a big-ass cat leap from the interior of the SUV.

Before she could run, piss on herself or curl into a ball in a feeble attempt to protect herself, the cat streaked by her and launched itself at Ricardo.

Ricardo’s screams rent the air before a mouth closed around his throat, effectively silencing him. It was over so fast that Katie barely had time to register that she wasn’t having some bizarre hallucination.

Ricardo was sprawled on the ground under the weight of the animal, his eyes glassy and locked into a lifeless stare as his throat lay open and bleeding beneath the cat’s mouth.

Holy f**k. The cat. Ian. Braden.

Her mind couldn’t even catch up in its frenzy to understand what she’d just seen. Not waiting to see if she’d be the jaguar’s next meal, she bolted toward the SUV. Only to find the driver’s side empty.

Seizure disorder, my ass.

A quick look in the back told her Braden was either still unconscious or dead. She couldn’t be sure which, and she wasn’t going to hang around and find out. Hell, he’d probably turn into a damn…well she didn’t know, but again, she didn’t want to find out. Her brain simply couldn’t comprehend what she’d witnessed.

She turned to see the cat shaking Ricardo like a rag doll. The other men had scattered like screaming girls, but they’d likely return.

She ran to the back of the SUV and prayed the door would open. It took some pulling, but she managed to crack it just enough to haul one of the assault rifles out.

Her stomach was bleeding heavily, and she spared only enough time to shove a balled-up T-shirt over it before she took off in the opposite direction. And then she heard gunfire.

Don’t turn around. Don’t do it. Get the f**k out of here. Save your ass and don’t worry about the damn cat that’s currently having Ricardo for lunch.

She turned around, her gun up against her shoulder. Ricardo’s men were holed up behind their banged-up SUV. One dumbass had apparently shot at the jaguar and missed, and now the cat was stalking them.

Shit. If the cat was really Ian—and at this point, unless she believed in spontaneous combustion, she couldn’t come up with a better explanation—then the least she could do was keep the gunmen off his ass, or hide, or whatever the hell you called a cat’s skin.

She started to take cover behind the SUV but then realized that Braden was still inside, life status unknown, and if she started shooting at the bad guys they were going to shoot back, and if Braden wasn’t already dead, he’d soon be. The idea of either man dying did odd things to her. They’d done their damndest to protect her, and she could do nothing less than return the favor.

“You’re turning into a complete girl,” she muttered.

She dropped the bloody T-shirt and jumped the ravine the SUV had tumbled into. She scrambled up the incline and dove behind a clump of trees. On her belly, she slithered painfully forward, her blood mixing with the soil. Maybe if she got enough dirt packed in there, it would stop the bleeding.