Wrath

Movement made her gasp. The man who stepped out from behind the container wore all black. Lauren’s heart hammered and she stiffened. Fear didn’t inch up her spine. It jolted lightning-quick from her heels to her brain.

He was dressed wrong to drive the fancy sports car outside. He definitely didn’t look like a Mr. Herbert. He was a big man and reminded her of a mix between a ninja, with the all-black clothing, and a soldier, with the bulky bulletproof vest. Black material encased everything on the man except his tan throat and head. Spiked black hair also gave her the impression that he was military but the dark sunglasses didn’t fit with the look. She couldn’t see his eyes at all.

He slowly stalked toward her, closing the distance while she stood there frozen. It gave her time to take in more details of the stranger. He had wide shoulders and his shirt stretched tightly over thick, bulky biceps. Her fear notched higher. That screamed “ex-convict” to her. She had a neighbor with arms nearly that size and he’d told her lifting weights had been the only thing to alleviate boredom while he’d served nine years for armed robbery.

Lauren swallowed hard. Her neighbor scared the crap out of her but this guy was ten times worse. Her gaze lowered to his black boots and she openly stared at them since her legs still refused to work. Definitely military. Her cousin was in the Marines and she’d seen him polish his boots a few months before while visiting an aunt. The kickass chunky boots were almost exactly the same as the ones she’d seen.

Whoever he was, she bet he wasn’t Mr. Herbert. She knew that but was hopeful to be wrong. She finally backed up and nearly tripped. She fought down a scream of terror. Her gaze had located the two guns holstered to his thighs, a sight she had missed until her brain began to function better.

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 hips 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 rapists? 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