Defending Morgan (Mountain Mercenaries #3)(4)
“I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor,” Morgan said urgently. The last thing she wanted was this man, or his friends, looking at her.
His eyes narrowed. “We’ll discuss it when we’re at the safe house.”
She pressed her lips together. Be agreeable. Be agreeable. “Okay.”
As if he knew she was only saying what he wanted to hear, Arrow’s lips quirked upward, and he shook his head. “Come on.”
She trudged on behind him, worrying more about what he was going to ask when they got to the safe house than their surroundings. Which was a mistake.
One second they were walking through a filthy alley, and the next they were surrounded by rough-looking men.
Once again, she bounced off Arrow’s back, but this time his arm came up and wrapped around her waist. He spun them until her back was to the building on their right and he was standing in front of her. He’d dropped her hand and had both arms out, as if that could keep the men from getting to her.
The biggest man, the one with long, greasy hair, said something in Spanish. She’d been in the country for almost a year, but she still didn’t understand much of the native language. The men who’d kept her captive hadn’t exactly been willing to teach her, and besides, when they did interact with her, they didn’t ask anything; they simply moved her where and how they wanted.
To her surprise, Arrow responded in very authentic-sounding Spanish. More words were said back and forth, but Arrow’s protective stance in front of her never wavered. Morgan could feel herself trembling, but was determined to keep out of Arrow’s way and let him do what he needed to do.
She felt horrible about the fact that she wasn’t considering giving herself up to save Arrow. She wasn’t going back to her previous existence. No way.
Another man ran down the alley toward them—and Morgan’s stomach dropped. She knew this guy. He didn’t have an ounce of compassion in him.
The second he arrived, he said something to his friends—and all four of them attacked Arrow at once.
Morgan didn’t waste a breath on screaming. No one would come to their aid. She’d learned that the hard way. So she did the only thing she could—she fought. Arrow was good, but there was no way he’d be able to hold off all four of the men.
She picked up a metal pipe from the ground and, without an ounce of remorse, slammed it into the knee of the man nearest her.
He roared in pain and went down.
“Run!” Arrow yelled at her even as he punched one of the men in the face.
Morgan hesitated. She wanted to. Oh God, how she wanted to. But she had no idea where the safe house was or where to go. The last thing she wanted was to be on her own in the back alleys of Santo Domingo. She’d be recaptured in a heartbeat. She was safest with Arrow . . . and she could help him.
She swung the piece of metal and once again hit one of the men. This time she caught him in the arm. Before she had a chance to wind up again, he turned to her and swung his fist. She ducked, but he still managed to catch her on the side of her head. She went down to her knees, dropping the piece of metal in the process.
Immediately, she groped on the ground for her weapon, but it was too late. The fifth man, the one she knew, grabbed her by the hair and hauled her off the ground, holding her in front of him like a shield.
He said something to the others, and everyone stopped fighting immediately.
“Let me go,” she spat, squirming in the man’s grasp.
“Cállate, puta!” he said, and wrapped an arm around her neck.
Morgan knew cállate meant shut up, and she assumed puta was some sort of derogatory name, as she’d been called that many times over the last year. But she didn’t know what the rest of the words that came spewing out of his mouth meant.
Arrow didn’t hesitate, responding with words that sounded just as harsh. She didn’t panic until the man holding her began backing down the alley.
He was taking her away from Arrow. Away from safety.
“No!” she yelled, suddenly sick of being hauled around against her will. She was shorter than the men and not as strong, but she was done being the victim. She wasn’t going back to that house, or any others like it. She’d gotten lucky with Arrow and his friends. If she was taken away again, she wouldn’t be so lucky the next time. She knew it as well as she knew her name.
She fought with all her strength, frantically, the events of the last year replaying over and over in her brain. She vaguely heard grunts and the sound of fighting, but nothing truly registered. The man dragged her farther down the alley toward a beat-up black car.
Knowing if she was put inside that car, her life would be even more of a living hell than it had been, Morgan felt determination rise up within her.
“Fuck you,” she huffed out as the man struggled to rein her in and open the door at the same time. He managed to lift the handle, but Morgan kicked out with her foot and slammed it shut.
Her captor mumbled some words Morgan couldn’t understand under his breath, but she didn’t stop her struggles. Eventually, however, even though she was fighting with all her strength, the man got the upper hand. He clamped his hand over her nose and mouth and pressed down hard.
Morgan clawed at his hand, trying to remove it so she could get air into her lungs, but he was holding on too strongly. With his free hand, he reached over and opened the car door.