Page 71 of Too Broken to Love

Forcing herself to gag, she slapped her hand over her mouth and clutched her belly. Leaning over, she coughed, chest heaving and eyes watering until filet mignon and red wine surged up her throat.

Fry Jack grabbed her by the hair again. “Don’t you dare puke.”

As he yanked her upright, she whirled toward him and hurled the bile at his face. It landed on his cheek in a thick glob. Cursing he pulled his fist back. She raised her forearm to block the punch but dropped it as she spotted a knife in his back pocket.

His fist cracked against her cheek with the force of a hammer. Her head snapped back. Fresh pain coalesced with the remembered kind. As she crumpled toward him, she lifted the pocketknife. Flipping it open, she spun. The hem of her dress tore under his boot as she sliced his bicep just below the sleeve of his T-shirt.

Cursing, he stared at his arm. Fueled by survival instinct and supercharged by the feral need to see Hudson again, she pushed him toward the stairs. He stumbled back but didn’t fall, surprise registering in his face for a nanosecond.

Dropping into a crouch, she kicked out her leg and swept it hard against his ankle. His foot came out from under him as the momentum of her attack shot her back onto her ass. Arms flailing, he reached for the handrail. His gun clattered to the ground as he crashed onto the steps.

She scrambled to her knees, her gasp shattering the eerie quiet on the heels of Fry Jack’s skull hitting the concrete. As she eyed his gun, too stunned to move, a wide shadow filled the doorway.

Hudson left Nathaniel with his pilot buddy, along with instructions to wait for the General. He yelled his thanks as he took off in the direction of Tessa’s dot. Footsteps sounded to his left as he followed her last known location to the stairwell.

He spun, primed to fight. He blinked instead. “What are you doing here?”

Malcolm caught up to him. “I saw Nathaniel being hauled out by a bunch of Marines. What’s going on?”

“Someone took Tessa. Go back and interrogate the hell out of that fucker and make sure you get it on the record.” He picked up his pace. “I got this.” He appreciated the backup, but he didn’t need Tessa and his best friend in harm’s way.

Malcolm fell into step next to him. “No fucking way I’m leaving you to deal with this alone. Nathaniel threatened Viv a few hours ago if she didn’t cough up ten mil. I have the mansion on lockdown. I wasn’t sure if communications were secure, so I drove here to update you.” He slipped Hudson a handgun. “Thought you might need this.”

Hudson nodded his thanks. The warm weapon both settled and charged his nerves as he opened the door to the stairwell. Malcolm followed close behind him.

Quiet and steady, they moved down the first flight as a team. A man’s curse from below broke the silence. Hudson and Malcolm looked at each other and picked up their pace. Pulse racing as fast as his feet, Hudson flew down the stairs and spotted Fry Jack sprawled at the base of the first-floor landing.

Jumping over blood streaks, Hudson landed in front of the smuggler and grabbed him by the shirt. “Where is she?”

“Fuck you.”

Hudson dug his fingers into the gash on his bicep and rammed him into the wall. Blood spurted onto Hudson’s white jacket and the tuxedo shirt underneath. “Did my little thief pick your pocket again and slice you this time?”

“Bitch is on her way to hell.”

“Where. Is. She?” Hudson shoved an arm against Fry Jack’s windpipe as he raised the gun to his head with the other. “Your next breath depends on your answer.”

“You’re a doctor. You won’t kill me. It’s against your oath.”

“I made a new oath.”

To protect the woman I love.

He pressed harder on Fry Jack’s throat with enough pressure to prove he wasn’t bluffing.

The smuggler wheezed. “Loading dock. V-van.”

The hard barrel of a gun pressed into the swelling bruise on Tessa’s cheek. The sharp, flaming pain froze the tears in her eyes. Biting her tongue so she didn’t whimper, she struggled to keep up with the smuggler dressed all in black she’d named Shadow.

She darted her gaze around the empty corridor and prayed for somebody to emerge from a door.

Nobody did.

Chairs, folded tables, and several trays of cutlery she could use as weapons lined the wide corridor, but Shadow clamped her arm, locking her under his control.

A rancid stench, like an overflowing dumpster, wafted from around the corner and mingled with the faint scent of cologne clinging to Shadow’s clothes.

Vomit raced up her throat. She slapped her hand over her mouth and stumbled over the torn hem of her dress.