Allie lay still listening to the rain and straining to hear the voices of her captors. Male, distinctively male. A loud grate of metal upon metal broke the air. The vehicle's rear doors opened. Cool wind blew in, causing her to shiver. A foreign tongue echoed as a hand clasped her ankle. With no regard to her safety or comfort, he dragged her across the floor to the door. Bumped and bruised, she managed to hold her head up to prevent it from bouncing on the hardness, desperately trying to prevent being knocked unconscious.
Cold steel touched her skin and she stilled. Tightness left her ankles the moment he sliced the ropes. One shoe on and one shoe off, they dragged her from the van to stand. Silence filled her ears, echoed by the steady beat of rain on the ground. The canvas bag blocked her view. She sensed several stood around her as she struggled on stiff legs to remain upright. The rip of cloth, the sensation of material parting and the occasional nick of the blade made her fully aware they removed the burlap shroud. Blinking, she held her head down until her eyesight adjusted. A fist in her hair jerked her head upward shooting stars behind her eyes. Shifting her weight to her bare foot, Allie attacked the assailant's knee with the other still sporting a six-inch black leather stiletto.
The sudden release of her hair and his simultaneous howl granted her a brief instant of freedom. Running haphazardly, she dodged two men before another tackled her from behind sending them skidding face first in the mud. Before he could get a good grip on her, she twisted and turned trying to escape. With her mouth gagged, she couldn't bite. Both hands were still tied tight together, but she flailed her arms like a club knocking him in the side of the head.
The point of a rifle in her face followed by the heavily accented word, “Halt,” caused her to capitulate. The mud-covered man on top of her jumped to his feet. For several long seconds, she lay still, catching her breath and assessing her surroundings. Rain pelted her face washing away some of the mud. It stung her eyes, but she hesitated to wipe them with her dirty, bound hands.
They wanted something from her or else she'd already be dead. Allie swiped the gun barrel out of her face as she sat upright. Covered in thick mud, she struggled without help to her feet. She maintained as much grace and dignity that a one shoed, soaking wet, mud-covered woman could muster, and stared the wielder of the gun in the eye.
His silence and steady stare provoked her anger. She was in no mood for any further games. Cold, tired, and hungry, and though she hated to admit it, fear made her insides quiver. Not relinquishing his stare, now that the canvas bag was no longer tied around her, she managed to wiggle her fingers under the gag and together with the push of her tongue removed it from her mouth. She caught enough rain to coat her tongue and wet her mouth. Slowly enunciating each word she demanded. “What… do… you… want… with… me?"
"Nothing."
She spun to see a man in the open doorway of a building. At roughly five feet, he stood several inches shorter than she. The light positioned behind him gave his lean frame an eerily dark appearance and hid his features from view. Obviously, he was the one in control. Clipped commands in what she suspected as Korean and the men scurried to please. The man with the gun lowered the barrel, produced a knife, and removed the bindings from her wrists. Men on each side of her nudged her toward the door, though she hesitated to move. She simply stared at the shadowed, short man. He sidestepped, keeping his back against the door, and waved a hand inward toward the warm, inviting glow of the room.
"For now you shall be treated as my guest."
A solid push from behind and she was forced to close the gap between them. As she stepped into the doorway, he leaned close. His voice turned sinister as he warned, “Try to escape again and the punishment will be unpleasant."
Faster than she'd ever seen anyone move, he brought the man to her left to his knees with a series of swift blows and showed no mercy when he snapped his neck ending his life. The gasp froze in her throat as the sight of the man she'd stabbed with her shoe crumpled into a heap.
Heated words left the killer's lips and the dead man was quickly dragged into the night. Her knees threatened to buckle. She'd never seen a man murdered and prayed she'd never see it again. Pulling her eyes from the disappearing corpse she stared at their leader. She managed to force one word from her lips.
"Why?"
"It is a weak man who cannot keep a hold on a woman, especially one that's bound and gagged. His death proved to the others failure is not tolerated."
He spun on his heels and marched into the room. Not sure whether from fear for her life or the man who nudged her in the side, she followed the supposed leader into the lighted room. If nothing else, it was warm and dry.
Chapter Two
Mitch couldn't believe his eyes. The woman was incredibly beautiful and feisty. A black strappy stiletto caught and held his attention when they slid her from the back of the van. Sexy shot through his head for a millisecond before he shoved it from his thoughts. Missing a shoe didn't matter. Her legs were lean and sculpted from what he could see. Inch by slow inch, they cut the burlap sack revealing a beautiful woman. It reminded him of a magic trick.
The skillful placement of her stiletto amazed him and brought a smile to his lips. The woman had style. Dressed in a mid-thigh black evening dress, she handled her captors with grace and the finesse of a greased pig. They couldn't get a hand on her for a matter of minutes as she did an awkward bob and weave, eluding them in the pouring rain. He bet if she had on a matching set of shoes-or better yet, sneakers-they wouldn't have caught her.
He stiffened at the sight of her being tackled from behind. The pair slid for several feet until they stopped. It didn't faze her. She continued to fight for her freedom. He caught sight of the gun before she did and instinctively placed the man in his crosshairs. One wrong move and he'd drop him where he stood. They'd been instructed to bring her home alive and he planned to complete this mission. He couldn't help but snort heavily when she sat upright and shoved the gun out of her face. Either she was the bravest woman he'd ever seen or she was insane. At the moment, he couldn't decide which.
When she turned toward the open door, he followed her line of sight. Damn, he hissed under his breath. Kwan Sung-hee. The worst of the worst stood in the doorway of the building. Short, powerful, and deadly. Known for severe torture tactics and brute force. This wasn't good. Kim Jong-un employed one of the deadliest and most elusive mercenaries in the world.
Keeping the gun level, he never lost sight of her. Soaking wet and covered in mud, she managed to maintain an air of dignity and defiance. Even at such a distance, he sensed strength radiate off her. The only glitch, she wobbled for a split second when Kwan killed the man she'd spiked with her heel. Death was a given in his profession, but he knew it wasn't in hers.
The moment the door closed he lost sight of her. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. They had to get her out of there as quickly as possible before that monster turned her inside out. Three clicks of his tongue to the sensitive mic inside his highly specialized helmet and he got the information he needed. They were ready at his go. Armed with the latest weaponry, his band of Force Recon Marines were the top in their field. This wasn't the first hostage removal they'd completed.
Switching to thermal heat-sensing binoculars, he located and counted the enemy. The dead body lay in the back of the van as one drove it away. Two men patrolled the front of the building while another two guarded the back. He located the other two inside the building along with Kwan and Miss Summers. No, he chided himself. Never give the package a name. It turned the mission personal and that wasn't allowed. Shaking off his momentary lapse in Marine judgment, he relayed the info to his brothers.