Into the Lair (Falcon Mercenary Group #2)(4)

Braden was watching him closely, and Ian tried to school his features. “Are you having doubts?” he asked Braden.

Braden looked thoughtful for a long moment. “Honestly? I don’t know. Too much has changed in too short a time. I don’t think Falcon will f**k us, if that’s what you’re asking. I just wonder how we fit into the picture. I don’t like the idea of being some f**king charity case and having their doctor shoved at us at regular intervals.”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Ian muttered.

“Are we going to end up like Damiano?” Braden asked softly.

Ian swore under his breath. Damiano was a member of Falcon, and like Ian and Braden, a victim of the chemical agent that had changed them all into shifters. He was even more unstable than Ian and Braden, and if D’s future was their own, it wasn’t pretty.

Damn Esteban Morales. Damn him to hell. Ian glanced over at Katie again, and his resolve hardened. If she was their key to nailing Esteban’s ass, then he’d have no compunction about using her in any way necessary to achieve their means.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Ian said, ignoring Braden’s question. “You can take the couch. I’ll take Miss Psycho into the bedroom and make sure she isn’t going anywhere for the night.”

***

Katie came awake with a start. Her eyes flew open, and despite the fogginess surrounding her mind, she felt alert. Fear could do that to you. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she took stock of her situation.

She tried to move and then froze, feeling rope around one wrist. The next thing she registered was the large body of a man next to her. The third thing she realized was that she was in her own bed in her apartment.

As far as what-the-f*ck moments went, this was a big one.

Her eyes rapidly adjusted to the darkness, and she looked down again to see that she was tied to the man’s wrist. He was sound asleep, his soft, even breathing filling the room.

Then she frowned. There had been two of them. She remembered that much. Which meant that somewhere close, there was another one. As if one wasn’t enough to deal with.

She gritted her teeth then turned her attention to the rope binding her to the mountain of muscle lying next to her. With her free hand, she carefully slid her fingers under the neckline of her T-shirt and into the sports bra to find the tiny pocketknife underneath the curve of her right breast.

Dumb bastards hadn’t patted her down, but then why would they feel the need to search the poor defenseless little woman?

She pulled the razor-sharp blade free of the clasp with her teeth then ever so carefully, she lowered it to the length of rope between their wrists.

As it passed through the twines like butter, she gave herself a mental pat on the back for being prepared and making sure she kept the blade sharp. Gabe would be proud.

Deep sadness clogged her chest, pulling painfully at her heart. No, she wouldn’t think about him now. Later. When she was safe, she’d mourn. For now she had to make sure they didn’t both end up dead.

If it weren’t for the fact that she had no idea where the other guy was, she’d bolt out of bed and run. She’d have the element of surprise, and by the time sleeping dude figured out she was free, she’d be two blocks away.

Instead she inched her way off the bed. Slowly, carefully, moving the tiniest bit with each breath. Every time he stirred she froze. When he flinched, she held her breath. Until finally, she slid the remaining way.

Not wasting a moment, she hurried across the floor, damning the fact that the bastard had removed her shoes. She didn’t have time to find them.

She halted in the doorway to the living room when she saw the second man’s too-large body sprawled on her too-small couch. He didn’t appear to be sleeping as deeply as the man in her bed. Getting by him and out the door could be a problem.

She felt in her pockets and nearly cursed aloud. All her cash was gone. She trembled with rage and curled her fingers into tight fists at her sides. Her bankcard was gone along with her cash.

Tears of frustration burned her eyes, pissing her off even more as she made her way quietly across the living room floor.

Her hand was on the knob, and she held her breath as she made her bid for freedom.

“Tell me you aren’t going to make me chase your ass across town again.”

She yanked her head toward the couch to see the man leaning up on one elbow, staring balefully at her. Foregoing any attempt at stealth, she threw open the door and bolted into the night.

The pounding of footsteps behind her told her that she was being pursued. She put her head down and turned on the speed. At the end of the block, she darted across the deserted street and veered away from the direction of the park. They’d expect her to go the familiar route.

She’d only gone another block when she heard the groan of an engine. As she went to cross another street, the squeal of tires sounded deafeningly close, and she pulled up short just in time for a silver Mercedes to careen in front of her.

A man jumped from the driver’s seat, and even in the dark, his identity was unmistakable.

Fear, vicious and stark, pooled in her stomach and swelled outward until nausea overwhelmed her.

“Katie, my love. Out for a late-night jog? I’ve always thought you were in impeccable shape, but one would think you were running from someone. Surely not me? We have a lot to clear up, you and me.”

She stared dully at Ricardo de la Cruz. It was only a matter of time before he showed up. His henchmen had sat on her long enough for him to arrive.