Her hand throbbed from the hit, but it didn’t seem to faze him in the least.
“If you hadn’t used a damn stun gun on me, we wouldn’t be rolling around on this filthy floor. Who in the hell told you it was an effective weapon? The things only stun your attacker for a brief moment, and certainly not me. Not someone with training! Now hold on; my damn stomach is rolling.”
“Yeah, right, I’ll just wait for you to get all better, because I have a death wish!” She managed to lift her knee and slam it against his groin, though it wasn’t a direct hit — his thigh took the brunt of the impact.
“Dammit!” Bryson yelled as his entire body stiffened.
No, he didn’t release her. He wrenched her two hands above her head and held her legs down with one of his own as he breathed heavily against her neck.
“Am I interrupting?”
Bryson Winchester groaned again, this time in utter embarrassment, as he turned to see his partner standing in the doorway with a grin on his face.
“Can you give me a hand here?” Bryson growled.
“Yeah, that five-foot-nothing girl looks like a real handful,” Axel said with a laugh.
“Who are you people?” Misty fired off. Their attitudes confused her. Jesse had never acted that way — almost offhand — when he was about to beat her. Deadly, yes, offhand, no. The man staring at the human pretzel that she and the giant were making on the floor looked amused, not deadly.
“I knew I should have brought some popcorn,” the guy said, not even trying to hide his enjoyment at his partner’s struggle.
“Would you shut the hell up and give me a hand, Axel?” Bryson snapped, then turned back to glare at her. “I was trying to tell you who I am before you did your best to inflict permanent damage on certain body parts.” He was finally starting to catch his breath again, but just as the pain began to dwindle, he found he was starting to have another problem.
Oh, this was so not good. How in the hell could he even think of getting aroused? His groin was throbbing, his stomach still rolling from the Taser, and she was still fighting him.
There had to be something immensely wrong with him if he could get even the slightest bit turned on in this situation.
But he’d been so busy trying to defend himself from this shockingly strong woman that he was just now realizing that the two of them were lying flush against each other, and though she might be petite, she carried some killer curves. Yeah, great self-defense, bozo!
Bryson would absolutely never hear the end of this if he stood up with an erection. Breathe! he commanded himself. Think of mom, grandma, the damn Yankees. Yeah, that would deflate him.
“Help!” Misty screamed, and Bryson could now add a splitting headache to his list of injuries. Her voice could have shattered glass, and it was aimed right into his ear.
“That’s it,” he snapped, and he moved off her so quickly that she was stunned into immobility.
He didn’t wait for round two. He jerked her body up and twisted her arms behind her back. He slapped a pair of handcuffs on her.
“See, you got it under control,” Axel said. He was laughing again.
“I’ll remember this,” Bryson grumbled at his partner while leading the woman out of the back room.
“Stop! I’m calling the police,” said a pimply-faced teenage boy who stood frozen in all his bravery by the front counter.
“Took you long enough to check on your co-worker, son,” said Axel, his hazel eyes twinkling.
“I was cleaning the bathroom,” the kid replied. Then he realized he was making excuses for himself to the men kidnapping his co-worker. He was obviously terrified, but Bryson had to give it to him — he wasn’t backing down.
“Call the CIA,” Misty shouted. There was no way she trusted the cops. She didn’t know whether a person even could call the CIA, though.
“Uh, shouldn’t I just call 911?” William asked as he wavered at the counter.
“No!” Misty cried.
That one word revealed more to Bryson than anything else she’d done — and in the span of about five minutes, she’d done plenty.
“I’ll…uh…call the CIA,” her co-worker said with doubt.
“It’s OK, kid. We’re the FBI,” Bryson told him. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his badge.
“No, they aren’t, Will,” Misty broke in. “Those are fake badges.”
The young man’s head snapped over to her. “Okay.” He’d only just turned eighteen, and he had no idea what to believe. Nothing like this was supposed to happen to him.
Axel spoke next. “Trust me, kid. We’re the real deal.” He also pulled out his badge, and, approaching Will cautiously, he handed him his card with the phone number of headquarters on it. “Look at it. And you can call this number to verify.”
Will took the card and walked to the phone, keeping an eye on all three of them. Bryson had a difficult time not laughing. He’d humor the kid. He didn’t want to admit it, but his groin area was still throbbing, and he was grateful to be able to just stand there a couple of extra minutes. The last thing he wanted to do was limp to the damn SUV.
Will dialed the number, and Bryson knew when the call was connected, because the kid’s eyes bugged out. Yeah, that tended to happen the first time a person reached FBI headquarters. Bryson still remembered when all that had impressed him.
Axel grabbed Bryson’s badge and shoved it over so the kid could ask whether both of them were agents. When Will was satisfied, he hung up the phone and faced them. “It’s legit, Marcy,” he said, his eyes shining with sudden hero worship.
At least he was using the fake name she’d come up with, one close enough to her own name that she wouldn’t confuse herself.
But Misty knew she was sunk anyway. “Thanks for trying, Will,” she said, more sad than anything else. This was the end. They were now going to take her to their car and drive her out into the woods, and then her body would never be found. “I really liked working with you.”
Bryson was confused by the change in her tone, but he didn’t focus on it. He just started leading her outside after telling Axel to collect her belongings. The fight had left her, and she didn’t wrestle against him as he moved to the vehicle and opened the back door.
“Watch your head,” he warned her, and she slid inside.
When he climbed in with her, she looked straight ahead. One tear slid down her cheek, but other than that, not a sound or reaction.