“Female. Either that or a smallish man with tits and a ponytail,” Graham said.
Graham’s finger eased back over the trigger when he saw her drag her backpack around. Was she going for a weapon? She pulled out a smaller bag … of first aid supplies. Okay. So she was either bait for some sort of trap or legitimately injured and in need of assistance.
“Outermost southwest perimeter sensor just lit up again. Same sensor as before. We’ve got more incoming. You copy?” Jamie, his teammate stationed in the command post, reported.
It could be a coincidence, the second part of the trap, or it could be the reason the woman was running through the pitch black woods like a bat out of hell. Graham sure as shit didn’t believe in coincidences.
“Copy that. I’m going to retrieve the female. Can someone get over here to cover me?” Graham asked. Usually, rescuing damsels in distress was more Zach’s M.O., but Graham figured now was as good a time as any to wear the sucker sign. He might be a dick most of the time, but the woman had been running for all she was worth when she took that header. It was a risk, but a calculated one. He could always shoot her later if it turned out to be trap.
“You sure about that, G-man?” Jonah asked through the radio. “She could be bait or a poacher.”
“Not a fucking idiot,” Graham replied. “It’s my call, and I’m making it. Cover me like you’ve got a pair if you’re so worried about it. I’ll be inside the walls in fifteen or less. Get someone out here to take my post.”
Graham climbed down the spikes protruding from the tree and headed for a barely perceptible gate that was built into the fence line.
Rescue mission or clusterfuck. Graham figured it could go either way at this point. Good thing he could handle either.
The hand that clamped over her mouth cut off Rowan’s scream and air supply. A really, really big hand. It covered half her face. Then the hand’s owner spoke low in her ear.
“I’m going to pick you up, and you will not give me any shit, and you will not struggle. When I move my hand, you will not scream. Get me, woman?”
The voice was deep and so close; Ro felt his words more than heard them. The hand not covering her mouth was slipping the Ka-Bar from the sheath on her belt. She was now officially incapacitated and without a weapon.
Apparently he wanted some indication that she did in fact “get him,” because he pulled her head to the side to make eye contact. Even though she was pretty damn sure he wasn’t Red, based on the fresh pine scent emanating from him, seeing dark eyes and a face smeared with camouflage paint was a relief. Momentarily. Because then he spoke again.
“I said, get me, woman?” he repeated, sounding annoyed. And scary. “When I take my hand off your mouth, you’re going to keep it shut like a good little girl. We clear?”
Ro wasn’t sure how he expected her to answer when she couldn’t even breathe. He shook her, as if trying to get her attention. Like he didn’t already have it.
“Are we clear?” His low rumble had turned into a growl.
Ro didn’t get him, and she wasn’t clear. As far as she knew, this guy could be worse than the creepy trio. After the six-day march on Ro’s personal trail of tears, the scene she’d witnessed less than an hour ago, the pain shooting from her ankle, and the asshole currently barking orders at her, Ro hit her limit. Her survival instincts were screaming at her to do something to get free. So she decided to go for the backward head butt. WWE Smack Down-style. Classy-like.
Something in her movements must have telegraphed her intent, because before her head could connect with his nose, the hand across her mouth tightened, and his other hand palmed the back of her head, pulling in the opposite direction of the hand over her mouth.
“I could snap your neck in less than a motherfucking second. I don’t have time to fuck around. We’re moving.” Without waiting for a response, he tossed her up over his shoulder like a bag of feed. From her upside down perch, Ro saw him snag her backpack and throw one strap over his other shoulder. He paused for a moment before trotting in the same direction Ro had been running before she’d taken a header into the forest floor.
Apparently Conan the Barbarian, as Ro had dubbed him, liked to manhandle women. God only knew what he had in mind for her. Why am I not fighting back? Am I going to make this easy for him? Ro considered trying to drive her elbow through his back and then recalled his threat about snapping her neck.
Fuck it. How much worse could things really get? After all, she’d just added being kidnapped to her list of life experiences.