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He spoke in an annoyed, gruff voice, as if she were an unpleasant panhandler on a dodgy street. Grateful for his convincing backup, Tess hoped the ruse worked.
Wearing a smirk, Dmitry rose and dropped his newspaper. He stretched to view their cell, then shuffled across the room.
“Hurry, I gotta go really badly.” Behind their cell’s door, she stood in the formation they’d practiced, with Mark across from her. Her feet inches apart, she tensed her leg muscles like a lion ready to pounce. She gripped the canister and poised her trigger finger on the spray valve. Feigning illness, she bent over and held her stomach, all while emitting a loud moan.
“Only woman leaves the cell,” Dmitry said through the door. The cell door’s metal bar clanked as he unlatched it. The door slid open, and he poked his head inside the cell.
At close range, Tess shot pepper spray into Dmitry’s face, and she made certain to coat both his eyes with plenty of the noxious liquid.
Blinded, the man wailed and stumbled.
Mark flung Dmitry into the cell, where he landed with a thump. Using one foot to keep Dmitry from escaping, Mark searched the gunman’s pants for a handgun but found nothing.
Wasting no time, Tess grabbed Mark’s hand, backed them out of the cell, and slid the door shut. She pulled on the lock to double-check it was secure while ignoring Dmitry’s furious shouts. Looking behind her, she regretted not gagging him but couldn’t risk taking the time to silence him. Following Mark, she raced down the barn’s dark hallway and swerved toward the exit.
Suddenly, the barn door burst open.
She felt a gust of cold air.
Sergey barged inside and almost collided with them. He yelled something unintelligible and clenched his stubby fingers into fists. With a barrage of wild swings, he walloped Mark repeatedly and landed several punches square on his chest.
Mark crumpled to the ground and groaned, then fell quiet and motionless.
Fearing Mark had lost consciousness, Tess blasted Sergey’s back with her fists to distract him, but her jabs failed to slow the beefy-fisted gunman. Frantic to reach Mark, she struggled to dodge around Sergey, but his body was like an immobile brick wall, blocking her passage.
“I don’t care what Yuri says. I take what I want.” Sergey lurched over to Tess.
He snapped her arm behind her back using such force that her shoulder joints seized in protest. Stunned for a moment, she wrestled herself away and assumed a fighting stance, grateful the muscle memory from her training decades ago kicked in. The warm gold of Kyle’s Celtic knot amulet heated her chest’s skin and channeled power into her bloodstream. Anything superfluous dropped away, and the clarity enabled her to focus on one goal: fight strong.
In a flash, Sergey whipped a knife out of his holster and placed the gleaming tip against her neck. “Do you hear me now?” He shook her again.
“Yes, I do,” she said in a loud, clear voice. Alone now, she experienced her courage rushing in, and new energy fortified her. Lengthening her body, she stood tall with her feet grounded on the solid barn floor, and she held her chin high. Hands clenched, she ignored Sergey’s pungent body odor. Adrenaline surged through her body like wildfire. Raging with raw aggression, she swung with all her strength.
Grunting, Sergey punched her upper right shoulder. The impact knocked her flat, but she crawled onto all fours and kept her gaze trained on him.
Still holding his knife in one hand, he used his other hand to unbuckle his belt. His black military pants dropped around his ankles, and the heavy buckle made a dull, metallic thud on the barn floor.
Her stomach churned, and she tried to unsee his naked legs. “Don’t you dare touch me, you rodent.” She growled and crawled on her hands and knees, but her shoulder contorted in pain, and she dropped back to the ground. Uncertain whether Mark was conscious, she shouted his name in hopes he’d hear her.
“I’ll kill you,” Sergey snarled.
Across the room from her, Mark writhed on the barn floor and attempted to get up but fell, clutching his rib cage. “Leave her alone,” he yelled.
“Shut up,” Sergey hissed and waved his knife.
With no pathway to escape, her only choice was to fight. Ignoring the crushing throb in her shoulder, Tess summoned her strength and jumped to her feet. Woozy from the exertion, she raced to assess her options.
Sergey’s gleaming knife pointed in her direction, but he held no gun. The captor stood a few inches taller than she, but he was stout and sported a hairy potbelly that jiggled and spilled over the top of his white briefs. Revulsion overcame her logic, and she lost her focus for a moment.
He lunged and grasped for her blouse. With his hands grabbing her shoulders, he shoved her against the wall.
Revolted, she spat on the ground. She ducked low under his armpit and twisted out from under him, then snapped tall again. However, she only traveled a couple of steps before he grabbed her and whipped her body around to face him.
Roaring, he wound up his fist to hit her again.
Without hesitation, she shoved her hands into his face and dug her fingernails into his eyes.
He howled and dropped his knife, swatting his hands in the air. Lines of blood streaked his cheeks from where her fingernails punctured his skin, and he swiped at his face to rub it away.
