J Saint - Collateral Damage

Her mind and her body shook beneath the waves of panic threatening to incapacitate her. Just like before her abaya was trapped beneath her knees, keeping her pinned down, hindering her from escaping. She struggled to rise, her knee grinding deep into the glass as she fought to free the restrictions of her dress. She had barely wedged one foot beneath her to get up when her attacker wrapped her hijab around her throat. He jerked her face into his crotch, cutting off her air.

She couldn't breathe. Blood roared in her ears. Her mind screamed for her to do something. The monster wanted her to fight him, wanted an excuse to kill her and she didn't waste precious time struggling. She pressed her face into his groin, making him think she'd do what he wanted. That was the fastest way to get air. Her smashed fingers were almost numb, but she forced herself to pull down his zipper. She nudged her head against his rising bulge, her body shuddering with revulsion she tried to mask. She scoured the ground with her unhurt hand, praying for a miracle.

The monster laughed and eased up his chokehold on her. Mari sucked in precious air. "See, Bean. She wants it. All women really want it no matter what they say, how they act, or how they dress." He thrust his hips. "This raghead has himself a good whore."

Mari's heart pounded impossibly harder as she found and grasped a large shard of glass. She ignored the sting of it cutting into her flesh as she positioned herself. She only would have one chance. She pulled open one side of his fly then brought her other hand up. The full sleeve of her abaya covered the glass in her hand. Using the force of her weight, she stabbed her attacker in the groin.

Unlucky for her, he chose that moment to rock his hips and she missed his penis. Still the glass shard went deep into his abdomen. The man screamed in pain and reared back from her. Mari didn't waste a second. She turned, gained her feet, and ran. Both men were between her and the front exit so she ran to the back. She hit the storage room, sure she could hear pounding footsteps behind her. Her blood thundered in her ears and her vision dimmed as if she'd pass out. Panic clawed into her mind. There were two doors. One straight ahead that exited the store, bolted with a heavy padlock and chain and the other all the way across the storage area. She ran hard.

"You're dead, bitch!" the monster screamed, coming after her.

And Mari knew she was. She pressed her damaged hands to her precious, unborn baby, and put her heart and soul into crying to Allah.

Atlanta, Georgia

Conrad Gardner shoved his clunked out SUV into gear, his foot as itchy on the gas pedal as his finger was on his under-the-pawn-shop-table double action Glock, purchased this morning complete with missing serial numbers and enough kick-ass ammo to down those damn dogs he'd forgotten about.

Until the dogs had ruined his high last night, he'd been feeling really good since Thomas tumbled to his death. It was as if some tightly leashed part of him had been freed. He was in control, for once. He was in the driver's seat and the grand prize was his for the taking and he didn't have to put up with anyone else's shit ever again.

Or had been.

He bit down on his lip until the pain matched the throb in his head and the burn in his gut.

Somebody was after Lauren, honing in like a rat on a Cheeto on the five million Bill had hidden. She'd hired herself some muscle as well. It was the only logical explanation for the two gunmen battling it out.

He'd had a back row seat to the drama at Bill's house, having arrived earlier this morning to await Lauren. She was so damn predictable, fleeing to Angie Freemont's last night. All he had to do was sneak up with a conveniently handy Super Ear he'd ferreted from a spy shop and hear firsthand her plans for the day. He'd come to the Collins' house and waited a little ways down the street with his side mirrors trained on the front of it.

Having to huddle uncomfortably in the back seat for several hours had been worth it when the promise of nailing her dogs and…well, damn, he'd always wanted to have himself a piece of her. He'd nail her too. But now that promise was dead, and he'd waited for nothing. Cops would surely be here any minute, which left him SOL.

What the hell should he do next? His cell phone had remained suspiciously silent. Considering the gravity and shock of Bill's letters and Thomas's multiple calls before he nose-dived off the sun deck yesterday, Conrad expected that Edward, Ray or Bob would have called…unless…they were in cahoots and planned on cutting him out of the five million.

Shit. He hadn't considered that. They were probably all sitting around and laughing about it. Poor Con. Well, he sure as hell wouldn't be poor Con anymore. The money would be his, no matter what.

He had to get his hands on the other letters Bill sent. Edward was a thirty minute ride across town. Ray in Savannah, Bob in Tampa, a bitch of a drive. He glanced again at the drama playing out at Collins's house and almost smiled at what he imagined Lauren's expression was when she saw the mess he'd made.

With Lauren literally pinned down at gunpoint, Conrad could nab her snot-nosed brats. After a scream or two from the kids via the phone, Lauren would likely hand over her soul, much less the letter from Bill.

Seeing her pick up the FedEx package from the porch had nearly blown his gasket. He'd spent all night pissing away precious time taking apart the inside of Bill's house with a malicious fine-toothed comb-payback for the damned dogs nearly chewing his ass off-only to find out it had been lying in the front yard all along. She owed him and he was going to make it hurt.

He pressed the gas to the floor and got the hell out of Dodge before the cops arrived.

Jack calculated that he'd wasted three of the thirty seconds it would take the spinning grenade of what he prayed to God was only CS gas to fill the room and practically incapacitate them both. Already Jack's eyes seemed to burn. Apparently the bastard outside wasn't aiming to kill Lauren, but to take her hostage-somehow an even scarier scenario because that meant they wanted something from her. Wanted something that they didn't find when they'd destroyed the house. Wanted it bad too. He swung on his heel, reaching Lauren quickly.

"Come on." He grasped her hand to help her rise and direct her from the choking tear gas. "Is there any way out this direction?"

"Through the basement."

"I'll follow you." He urged Lauren in front of him then checked to see that the dogs followed.

"Is there a fire?"

"Tear gas."

Lauren held up her cell phone. "I've called the police."

Great, Jack thought. The police were needed, but he didn't necessarily want the complication of having to answer questions, either. He wasn't exactly operating within the law himself. Not that he didn't have the right to protect himself, he just wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. And being military complicated things a bit. Huge understatement. By now he was sure Weston had gotten wind of his AMA exit from the hospital, knew exactly where he had gone, and was pissed as hell. Another huge understatement. One thing for sure though, Jack had no further doubts that he was on the right track. The set of family portraits he just walked by confirmed Bill was his man.

Just then glass shattered into the parlor they were passing through and another CS grenade hit the floor just a few feet away. A flume of tear gas spewed their direction, instantly making his eyes water even though the thick chemical fog had yet to reach them. Jack thrust Lauren toward the basement door. "Hold your breath and run."

The dogs barked and lunged toward the grenade then yelped in discomfort, telling Jack the spewing chemical was of the extra-strength variety.