She really hoped they’d hurry up and get to rescuing them. At least Maverick. At some point, her contact at the FBI would become concerned she’d missed yesterday’s check-in and send the cavalry looking for her as well.
But would it all be too late?
Fatigue pressed down on her like a lead blanket and, within seconds, she lost the battle to keep her eyes open. Sleep was a welcome reprieve from the pain. It seemed as though every cell in her body was shrieking in agony. Both ankles and wrists were sliced to ribbons, and she was pretty sure she’d broken her left wrist flailing like a madwoman in her attempt to help Maverick. Bumps and bruises were popping up in various places, again from the vigorous trashing against the table. Not to mention she was freezing.
But it was nothing compared to what Maverick had endured, so she closed her eyes, tried to block out the discomfort, and let sleep take her.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t wake to even greater horrors.
IT WAS PROBABLY time to be concerned.
Mav had no idea how much time had passed since King tried to permanently remove any wrinkles from his arm, but it had to be a good few hours.
He’d woken up awash in his own sweat, alternately freezing and sweating his ass off. The skin around the edges of the burn was angry, red, and weeping mustard-colored fluid. The bacteria weren’t wasting any time waging war against him.
Stephanie hadn’t stirred since Mav woke up a few moments ago. Her sleep wasn’t restful but full of whimpers and twitching. Her left wrist was fucked up in some way. It dangled off the table at an unnatural angle and had swelled so big it filled the extra space around the cuff.
Shit.
What kind of woman fought so hard to keep a man she didn’t know from pain that she broke her own wrist?
A pretty fucking amazing one.
Panicked shouts came from the hallway, and Maverick tensed. There was only one reason for Shark or his men to be freaking the fuck out.
His brothers came through.
“Stephanie,” he called. A slight twitch and fluttering of eyelids came from her before she settled. “Stephanie!”
She jerked and mumbled something but still didn’t wake.
“Hey, wildcat! Wake up, babe. Cavalry’s here.”
“Huh? What?” Stephanie shot up only to be slammed back to the table when the chains of the cuffs reached their limit. “Oh, shit, ow, fuck.” She panted against the table, tears pooling in her eyes.
With a grimace, Maverick said, “Sorry, babe. You okay?”
“Y-yeah. I’m g-good. I’m good. Wow, that hurt. Okay, what do I do?”
The door flung open before he had a chance to answer, and a tornado formally known as Shark flew into the room. For the first time, the man looked like he wasn’t entirely in control.
Eyes wide and insane, hair disheveled, hands trembling slightly, the man was frazzled and terrified.
That’s right, motherfucker. My boys are here for you.
“Looks like your time’s up, Sharky boy.”
“Shut the fuck up.” He looked between Maverick and Stephanie a few times before heading to the table.
“Leave her the fuck alone, asshole. They’re here for me. I’m your only ticket out of here alive now.”
“I told you to shut the fuck up.” Shark grabbed Stephanie’s head between his meaty palms, lifted her head, and said, “Lights out, princess.”
“No—”
He slammed her head back onto the table, and Stephanie’s body went limp. When Shark released her head, it lolled to the side.
Out cold.
Jesus. He prayed she was only unconscious. Given their size differences, Shark could have killed her. And Mav couldn’t do a damned thing about it. His brain wanted to rush to her and make sure she was breathing, but his body was helpless.
“Let’s go, Maverick. I’ve got some bikers to kill.” With practiced ease, Shark cut away Maverick’s bindings and hauled him to his feet. The pain of standing on unused legs had his knees collapsing. “Get the fuck up and walk.” Shark yanked him toward the door, and just before Mav left the room, he caught a slight rise of Steph’s chest.
Thank fuck.
Shark shoved him toward a long, dark staircase much faster than his legs were willing to go. He nearly fell twice but managed to remain upright.
Part of Maverick wanted to fight even though he didn’t stand a chance at taking Shark out. But he trusted his brothers. Trusted they’d rescue both him and Stephanie. So he hobbled along in front of Shark like a good little prisoner.
Climbing the stairs took almost every ounce of energy Maverick had left. When he staggered and almost faceplanted at the top of the steps, Shark dragged him toward the cabin’s front door.
“Don’t fucking move,” Shark said. He disappeared through the door, and Mav leaned against the wall, trying to keep the world in focus. He could hear Shark talking and could have sworn he heard his best friend Zach answer with some kind of smart-ass remark.