Wrath
Page 6
A soft whimper escaped her parted lips. The man wore black cargo pants that had pockets running up both legs. He not only had guns but a long knife was strapped over one thigh as well. Her terrified gaze landed on his gloved hands. They were open at his sides and it reminded her of something out of an old western as they twitched, almost as if they were about to draw down on someone, gunslinger fashion.
“Are you Mr. Herbert?” She hated the crack she heard in her voice.
The man paused and cocked his head slightly. His mouth twisted into a tight line, giving the appearance of either anger or confusion. She wished he wasn’t wearing the glasses so she could see his eyes. His bone structure was pronounced—strong cheekbones, full lips and a masculine, square chin. She retreated another step while the silence stretched between them.
Something moved at the corner of her vision and she jerked her head in that direction. Another man stepped out from behind a second container. He was blond, tall, huge, and dressed just like the first guy. The rest of his looks didn’t register to Lauren. All she saw beyond the basics was the big weapon he gripped with both hands. It looked like a wicked mean shotgun.
Oh dear God. Lauren freaked out, totally lost her cool, and spun. She ran right into the doors and bounced back enough to nearly fall on her butt. Her fingers frantically grabbed at the bar that would open the door and gave it a mighty shove. The thing still didn’t open. She threw her shoulder against the door while pushing frantically on the bar again but it wouldn’t budge.
“No!” She kicked at the locked door and hurt her toes in the process but wasn’t willing to give up. Two terrifying men were behind her. “Open up. Damn you, open up!” she yelled but it wouldn’t let her through.
Her heart raced and she panted after she gave up. The doors weren’t going to let her pass and she was trapped. Her fingers released the bar and she slowly turned to face the two men who were probably sickos targeting real estate agents.
The men remained in the same positions and she glanced between the black-clad figures. The blond wore dark glasses too. He lowered the big gun to aim it more at the floor than at her. It was the only upside she could find.
Lauren remembered her purse dangling from her arm. Her gaze darted between the two men in absolute terror before she frantically searched for another door. She didn’t see one. Her hand slid down to her purse, brushed her car keys clipped there, and her brain began to work.
Panic button. I have one! Her thumb brushed the square pad and she pushed the button. In the distance, although muffled, her car alarm began to scream in rapid bursts. She swallowed hard. Maybe it will draw the attention of…no one. The area around the building is deserted. Damn it. Her hand inched toward the flap of her purse and her cell phone.
“Turn it off,” one of the men ordered in an unnaturally deep voice. “Now.”
Lauren gawked at the blond who’d spoken. He was holding the weapon near his h*ps but he could easily aim it at her again. She didn’t look at his face since the gun held her full attention. Is he going to shoot me? Are they ra**sts? Worse? Oh God! her mind screamed. Worse would be so bad.
Her car alarm suddenly silenced and shock tore through Lauren. She hadn’t moved her thumb to turn it off. Someone else had to have done it, which meant there were more of them. She pressed her back against the door, pushed with her weight and prayed that it would move. She wanted to flee in the worst way.
“Where is he?” the blond asked.
“Who?” She barely got the word out. Her throat felt closed off with her heart seeming to sit inside it.
The blond man shifted the gun, gripped it with one hand and slowly stepped forward. Her gaze lifted to his face, couldn’t miss his frown, or that he was coming right at her.
“Stay away from me.” Lauren’s voice grew stronger, louder. “Stop right there. I don’t know who you are but I want to leave.”
The blond kept coming. Lauren’s heart speeded up painfully. The urge to scream rose in her throat, her lips parted, but nothing came out.
“Where is he?” The blond stopped just feet away.
Lauren noticed he had a good foot of height over her and it made her feel small. That would put him in the six foot five range. His shoulders were wide and muscular arms bulged beneath his black clothing. Her gaze couldn’t penetrate those black glasses to see his eyes. It was unsettling and made him an even scarier figure to confront.
She focused on his face, taking in the high cheekbones, square jawline. She guessed he had an abundance of testosterone from how masculine his features were. His voice reminded her of gravel—deep, rough, and gritty. Her gaze lowered to the gun gripped within his right hand and couldn’t look away from the scary thing. She would do anything they said just to survive the nightmare she’d fallen into.
“Who? Mr. Herbert? I don’t know. I was looking for him,” she managed to whisper. She hoped he’d heard her. “Please. I want to go now.”
Silence stretched and she finally tore her focus off the gun to look up at his face. His full lips were twisted downward and lines had appeared at the edges of them. She noticed his odd-looking nose for the first time. It wasn’t exactly flat but it had a smashed look as if he’d taken a few too many hits to the face.
“He goes by the name of Brent Thort. Where the hell is he? I won’t ask nicely again.”
Surprised, Lauren knew her mouth dropped open. “You’re looking for Brent?”
She glanced at the blond and the other scary guy. She didn’t like Brent but these men were seriously armed and dangerous. Her coworker was a loudmouthed, sexist jerk. He made a point of being offensive to all women with his crude remarks but she suddenly had a hunch that he had a gambling problem. Were these two men bill collectors from some illegal bookie? The color drained from her face. Or maybe Brent was into drugs. He did drive a really nice car and bragged about all the women he nailed. Any woman who purposely slept with him had to be paid to do so. He was good-looking but it was only skin deep in his case.
“Are you Mr. Herbert?” She hated the crack she heard in her voice.
The man paused and cocked his head slightly. His mouth twisted into a tight line, giving the appearance of either anger or confusion. She wished he wasn’t wearing the glasses so she could see his eyes. His bone structure was pronounced—strong cheekbones, full lips and a masculine, square chin. She retreated another step while the silence stretched between them.
Something moved at the corner of her vision and she jerked her head in that direction. Another man stepped out from behind a second container. He was blond, tall, huge, and dressed just like the first guy. The rest of his looks didn’t register to Lauren. All she saw beyond the basics was the big weapon he gripped with both hands. It looked like a wicked mean shotgun.
Oh dear God. Lauren freaked out, totally lost her cool, and spun. She ran right into the doors and bounced back enough to nearly fall on her butt. Her fingers frantically grabbed at the bar that would open the door and gave it a mighty shove. The thing still didn’t open. She threw her shoulder against the door while pushing frantically on the bar again but it wouldn’t budge.
“No!” She kicked at the locked door and hurt her toes in the process but wasn’t willing to give up. Two terrifying men were behind her. “Open up. Damn you, open up!” she yelled but it wouldn’t let her through.
Her heart raced and she panted after she gave up. The doors weren’t going to let her pass and she was trapped. Her fingers released the bar and she slowly turned to face the two men who were probably sickos targeting real estate agents.
The men remained in the same positions and she glanced between the black-clad figures. The blond wore dark glasses too. He lowered the big gun to aim it more at the floor than at her. It was the only upside she could find.
Lauren remembered her purse dangling from her arm. Her gaze darted between the two men in absolute terror before she frantically searched for another door. She didn’t see one. Her hand slid down to her purse, brushed her car keys clipped there, and her brain began to work.
Panic button. I have one! Her thumb brushed the square pad and she pushed the button. In the distance, although muffled, her car alarm began to scream in rapid bursts. She swallowed hard. Maybe it will draw the attention of…no one. The area around the building is deserted. Damn it. Her hand inched toward the flap of her purse and her cell phone.
“Turn it off,” one of the men ordered in an unnaturally deep voice. “Now.”
Lauren gawked at the blond who’d spoken. He was holding the weapon near his h*ps but he could easily aim it at her again. She didn’t look at his face since the gun held her full attention. Is he going to shoot me? Are they ra**sts? Worse? Oh God! her mind screamed. Worse would be so bad.
Her car alarm suddenly silenced and shock tore through Lauren. She hadn’t moved her thumb to turn it off. Someone else had to have done it, which meant there were more of them. She pressed her back against the door, pushed with her weight and prayed that it would move. She wanted to flee in the worst way.
“Where is he?” the blond asked.
“Who?” She barely got the word out. Her throat felt closed off with her heart seeming to sit inside it.
The blond man shifted the gun, gripped it with one hand and slowly stepped forward. Her gaze lifted to his face, couldn’t miss his frown, or that he was coming right at her.
“Stay away from me.” Lauren’s voice grew stronger, louder. “Stop right there. I don’t know who you are but I want to leave.”
The blond kept coming. Lauren’s heart speeded up painfully. The urge to scream rose in her throat, her lips parted, but nothing came out.
“Where is he?” The blond stopped just feet away.
Lauren noticed he had a good foot of height over her and it made her feel small. That would put him in the six foot five range. His shoulders were wide and muscular arms bulged beneath his black clothing. Her gaze couldn’t penetrate those black glasses to see his eyes. It was unsettling and made him an even scarier figure to confront.
She focused on his face, taking in the high cheekbones, square jawline. She guessed he had an abundance of testosterone from how masculine his features were. His voice reminded her of gravel—deep, rough, and gritty. Her gaze lowered to the gun gripped within his right hand and couldn’t look away from the scary thing. She would do anything they said just to survive the nightmare she’d fallen into.
“Who? Mr. Herbert? I don’t know. I was looking for him,” she managed to whisper. She hoped he’d heard her. “Please. I want to go now.”
Silence stretched and she finally tore her focus off the gun to look up at his face. His full lips were twisted downward and lines had appeared at the edges of them. She noticed his odd-looking nose for the first time. It wasn’t exactly flat but it had a smashed look as if he’d taken a few too many hits to the face.
“He goes by the name of Brent Thort. Where the hell is he? I won’t ask nicely again.”
Surprised, Lauren knew her mouth dropped open. “You’re looking for Brent?”
She glanced at the blond and the other scary guy. She didn’t like Brent but these men were seriously armed and dangerous. Her coworker was a loudmouthed, sexist jerk. He made a point of being offensive to all women with his crude remarks but she suddenly had a hunch that he had a gambling problem. Were these two men bill collectors from some illegal bookie? The color drained from her face. Or maybe Brent was into drugs. He did drive a really nice car and bragged about all the women he nailed. Any woman who purposely slept with him had to be paid to do so. He was good-looking but it was only skin deep in his case.
