She wasn’t fast enough.
Before she could stop him Diane found herself pinned to the ground, blood easing from the deep slice on her lip as she felt the side of her face burning from the blow to it. She could feel the discomfort, the searing rejection of his touch lancing through her body. Rather than weakening it, it pissed her off.
She had to smile despite the slicing pain to her lip.
“Oh, you’ve been practicing,” she sneered. “Too bad you’re still a slow f**ker with an ego that’s going to get you killed. What do you think is going to happen when those buddies of yours show up, and I’m not here. Dog’s not here. Just you, all alone without the prize you promised to deliver.”
“Then they’ll come after you.” He swung out in triumph as Diane tried to duck and move in.
Her foot swung out, collided with his balls but not fast enough to avoid the fist that slammed into her cheek.
“Fuck!” she cursed as Lawe roared in rage. “He’s going to f**king kill you before I get a chance.”
Racing the few steps to where he’d fallen to his knees, Diane threw another hard kick, this time with the flat of her foot to the side of his head.
Hard.
She put all her strength into it. Using the well-toned muscles of her thighs as her uncle had taught her and putting all her power into it, she kicked with the single driving hope that it would take his head off.
It didn’t.
Instead, it slammed it back, throwing him to his back and forcing a hard groan from his lips as he lost consciousness.
As she knew he would.
Her uncle had worked with her for months in secrecy to teach her how to take care of Malcolm specifically. He’d been a hardheaded bastard who hadn’t wanted to listen to orders on the occasions she’d pulled in contracts for the team.
That was the deal. Her uncle would give command to the team member who procured the contract if that individual wanted the experience in command.
Diane had.
Thor hadn’t, but he was always more than willing to give her his contracts and play second-in-command. As though he had always known what was coming.
Breathing harshly, her body aching painfully, she watched as Dog hurried over to Malcolm and checked his pulse with cool efficiency.
“He’s gonna be out for a while,” he reported, lifting his gaze to Diane. “Want me to finish this for you?” he asked with a subtle hint of anticipation.
She glared back at him. “If I wanted him dead, I would have killed him myself.”
His brows lifted. “Ever killed a man?” he asked softly, gently, as though he believed she were too gentle or perhaps too weak.
She stared back at him in disgust. “Do you want the list?”
“Bullets don’t count.” He rose to his feet, watching her with that mocking smile of his.
“Do knives?” she asked softly. “Hands? I can break his neck as easily as you can, never doubt it. He simply hasn’t suffered enough.” Her gaze narrowed in determination. It was the only way to stare a Breed down. “And I want him to suffer.”
“He’ll suffer.” Dog nodded. “Because the commander of the Coyote team moving in is a crazy son of a bitch. He’ll make sure he dies for you. And if we don’t get the hell out of here, he’ll attempt to make certain we join the little bastard.”
She shrugged and turned back to her mate.
“You made promises again,” she murmured as he stepped to her, the very air around him pulsing with primal hunger and the need to reassert his dominance.
Over her.
She grinned back at him.
A second later he had one hand buried in her hair, the other wrapped around her back and his lips covering hers.