Beautiful Soldier – E. M. Moore Page 0,38

looks as if it dips into a bit of a ravine.

I head that way, hoping I can hide in the brush as guns fire behind me. My shirt snags on a branch and tears. Cold seeps underneath until my body goes numb. It’s a battle of cold versus hot within me as my adrenaline surges at the same time.

I skid down an embankment when a shadow leaps out of concealment. His surprise attack shocks me into freezing. His massive arms move around me, bear hugging me from the side.

His rank breath coats the side of my neck. “You’re not so tough, are you?”

Well, now, he really shouldn’t have said that.

I lift my foot and slam my heel down onto his foot. His growl turns into a yelp in my ear as I elbow him in the gut to create space.

He reaches out, his hand grasping for me. He catches hold of my shirt, and the sound of it tearing rips through the air.

Wonderful. I’m literally now wearing a scrap of clothing, that doesn’t hide anything, and panties.

I punch the interested look off his face as he basically drools over my chest. I give him a left cross. Blood spurts from his nose, coating me in it from the top half up. A stomp kick to the gut has him dropping back, falling on his ass. “Not so tough, huh?”

He spits out a ream of blood. He bares his teeth at me, and in the dim moonlight, he looks feral. Like some sort of animal that’s been washed up to take me out.

He tries to get to his feet again, but I lift my foot to round kick him in the head. Unfortunately, it doesn’t land. He grabs it, twisting until I fall to the ground.

He crawls toward me, deflecting my attempts to kick him away until he’s on top, unloading all of his weight on me as if he’s a sack of potatoes. I draw in a shaky breath, trying to wiggle my arms between us to give me some space, but he’s like a wet piece of clothing conforming to every available nook and cranny. It wouldn’t surprise me if the guy has trained in Jiu Jitsu.

Lucky for me, so have I.

I elbow him in the face until he gives me enough space to get my arms inside. Then I hook my arms around him and push up while I use my feet as leverage to slide out. Once I’m free, I scramble to my feet, turn, and kick him in the chin while he’s on all fours.

He collapses onto the ground, moaning.

Fury rushes through me. I give him a few solid kicks to the ribs, hoping to incapacitate him so I can catch my breath.

I search the ground for the knife Magnum handed me, and by some dumb luck, I find it propped on a stone near where I skidded down the embankment. I grab it and hold it to the guy’s throat, pressing the tip in to let him know I have no qualms about killing him.

I mean, he probably already gathered that but I’m not going to let him get the jump on me. “Listen here,” I growl. “Who sent you?”

He coughs. Blood splatters over the pebbles where we are. His breathing doesn’t sound so hot. Shallow and gurgling. I probably broke a rib or two, which he fucking deserves.

Up over the ridge of the ravine, the gunfire ceases. If I was certain Magnum or Johnny were around, I’d yell for them, but if there is anyone up there, it might be this asshole’s buddies, and I don’t need him having backup.

“Who are you?”

“Fuck you, Princess,” he spits.

My lips curl. I actually kind of like it when he says it like that. All distasteful. Filled with fury. It felt like I deserved it. “I’m not asking you, I’m fucking demanding you tell me who you are and who you’re associated with.” Let’s get real. This isn’t some random...what? Bombing? And then subsequent gunfire? Come on. You’d have to be a total ditz to believe that.

Plus, it’s awful fucking suspicious that it felt like an explosive went off the day Johnny got back from Chicago. He’s called the Rocket for that reason.

“What are you going to do? Kill me?”

I slip the tip of the knife in further, a stream of blood coating his neck. “Think I won’t?”

“I think it doesn’t matter because I believe in what I’m doing, and I’d rather die than give anything up.”

Well, Christ.

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