Defy (Brothers of Ink and Steel Book 3)(19)

Jesus! He’s pushing us into the swamp!

Horror rushes through me. Oh my God! He’s going to dump my body in the swamp where they can’t find me!

All of that time keeping me “safe” and their talk of selling me undamaged comes to a screeching halt when they realize their plot was discovered.

I’m not dying this way!

His back is turned to me. It may be my only chance. I come at him with all my weight and drive him over the side of the boat. I take him off guard. He curses as he hits the shallow waters.

Lumbering to the front of the boat, I scan the dashboard, praying to see how to turn it on!

The silver moonlight glints off something metal on the floor. Wedged halfway underneath the carpet are a set of keys. I must have dislodged them from their hiding place when I ran over them. I land hard on my knees and scoop the keys up and then, with fumbling fingers, try the first key I get a good grip on.

The lights on the boat flash.

I feel a surge of excitement as I turn the key and listen to the rev of the engine.

Spinning around to face the wheel, I decide I can drive with my chin. Just as I lean down to engage the gas pedal, a bullet whistles over my head.

My body is roughly pulled to the floor by a pair of calloused hands.

“Are you f*cking crazy!?” my attacker storms in my face. “Now they all know where we are!”

Bullets spray into the side of the boat as my attacker orders, “Hold your breath!”

Almost before I can suck in a quick gasp of air, he plugs my nose closed with his fingers, hugs me hard against him and throws us into water on the opposite side of the boat.





A painful rush of fluid coats my lungs in white hot fire. As I’m spitting it up and out of my mouth, I’m flipped harshly onto my side. Coughing and gasping for oxygen sends excruciating vibrations through my chest.

After a second, I understand I’m on land again.

The man who pulled me out here wrenches me up from the ground, but instead of throwing me over his shoulder, he holds me with my front slung against his, one arm latched around my upper legs and the other around the center of my back.

There’s been a lapse of time. What the hell happened?

I’m still choking on the water coming up from my lungs.

Did I almost drown? Did I fully drown?

Why am I alive now, then?

Did he . . .? Why?

Why would he revive me?

It makes no sense! I want to scream!

But then I see a black shadow closing in on us. An involuntary sound escapes my agony filled chest. Am I warning the guy carrying me or crying out for help from the one chasing us down? I don’t even know.

My eyes gaze upward just in time to see my assailant turn his head to see the guy chasing us. With the element of surprise no longer in his favor, the other guy stops, points his gun and takes several steps forward to close the distance between us.

My heart is hammering in terror and confusion.

The guy holding me lets my legs fall to the ground and my feet touch the earth before his arm moves away from my back. The next sequence of events happens so fast I almost wonder if they happen the way I think I see it.

My captor grabs the gun with his left hand, pushing it down to the side. When the bullet is released from its chamber it tears its way through the earth in a spray of dirt and mud. He hooks around the gunman’s right arm and, with a powerful fist, pummels the guy in the jaw as he rips the gun from his hand.

They exchange savage blows until the gunman lunges at my carrier with a knife.

Cringing, I remember with all too much clarity what happened the last time a knife was pulled.

I can’t get enough air to breathe properly, let alone run. Trying to crawl again, I’m struck by the piercing rawness of my knees, legs and feet. I’m not going to get far.

Frantically, I scan what’s around me—if I could get under some cover and hide . . . but I’m crushed by the probability of being at my captor’s mercy.

With two quick and deliberate turns, my assailant is around the back of the gunman and plunges his blade up and into the guy’s throat—directly in the crook beneath his chin where it meets his neck.

Blood sprays out of the hole when he yanks the knife down and out. He steps to the side, and the other guy drops, dying, his eyes wide and wild.

My captor comes at me, still holding the knife. The scream that’s been welling up in my bruised and swollen lungs finds its way out of my mouth.

He grabs my face hard to close my mouth, and my jaws clamp, bearing down on his hand for all I’m worth.

The taste of his salty flesh combines with the rust of his blood.

He’s silent as he lifts my arms up towards my shoulders until they feel like they’ll break! I have no option but to let his hand loose.

Bracing myself for the fierce blow he’ll inflict, I’m surprised when he simply ties the soaking wet cloth back around my face, then throws me over his shoulder again and runs away from the second dead body left in his wake.



Ryder





I’m seriously considering killing Rachel Farrington myself! She’s nearly gotten the two of us caught or killed multiple times now.

I’d really love to sit for beers and chat with her about exactly what is going on so she doesn’t f*ck up again, but the area is crawling with Miguel’s men and whoever else is in on the action. And unless she’s deaf, she hears the dogs coming too. Dogs that are going to seek us out and rip our flesh off if I don’t throw them off our scent—which is nearly impossible.