My Hard-hearted Hero

Chapter 1 √

Ariana never had time to scream. One moment she was mopping the last toilet stall, looking forward to collapsing on her coat. The next instant strong hands seized her and slammed her back against a wide chest a wall of hot, breathing steel. A huge gloved hand smothered half her face before she could catch her breath, much less get to her weapon.

She jabbed the mop handle at her unseen assailant, only to have it wrenched from her rubber gloved hands and plopped into the commode she'd just scrubbed.

She'd known the risks from the moment she joined the Underground Society, but she never thought it would happen this soon. Or quite this way.

Now she was going to end up like Ashton.

A strip of duct tape replaced the hand over her mouth. Ariana struggled wildly, but the arms pinning her were pure sinew beneath the black sweater sleeves, unyielding as iron bands.

He jerk her arms behind her and tore off her rubber gloves. She felt the shock of cold steel on her wrists, heard the distinctive ratchety sound of hand cuffs tightening.

She twisted violently, kicking him with her bare feet, hoping to throw him off balance, make him lose his footing on the wet floor. No good. He was as immovable as granite.

The tiled room spun crazily as he hoisted her over his massive shoulder. Her forehead collided with the small of his back and a hard lump she had no trouble identifying as a concealed, holstered firearm.

He placed a hand on the back of her thigh to steady her... And froze. She groaned under her gag, knowing her last hope had just evaporated. She felt him yank off a leather glove. Warm, callused fingers swept under her long, indian print skirt and over her bare legs....and between them , despite her efforts to squeeze them together. She felt a chuckle rumble deep in his massive torso as those fingers closed over her holster, strapped to her inner thigh.

"Well, I'll be damned..... "It was a baritone whisper, half amazed, half amused.

He flipped her skirt up. All the way up. She felt cool air on her bottom, hatefully displayed in her little pink bikini panties. He drew her slim semiautomatic out of the thigh holster. In the process his knuckles fleetingly brushed between her legs, creating a charge of electric heat that made her breath snag. She sensed him checking the safety and examining the gun briefly before pocketing it.

The doorknob to the outer hallway jiggled and Ariana whipped her head up, her screams muffled by the duct tape, her long brown hair falling around her face, obscuring her view.

Knocks and irate voices sounded at the closed door.

"Who locked this door? Ina, are you still in there?"

He'd locked the door! How had it been possible for a man this size to skulk around a mirrored, tiled room invisibly....soundlessly....while she'd swabbed out the toilets?

Who was this guy? She couldn't recall anyone this big and muscular at Society__ he had to be least six four__ but then perhaps Lucas hired outsiders for nasty jobs like this.

Shouts came from the other side of the door, more frantic now.

"Someone get the key! Where's the key?"

The big guy didn't seem overly concerned. He must have jammed the lock somehow. She heard the grating sound of more duct tape peeling off a roll. He wound it about her ankles several layers, good and tight. More around her legs, just above her knees, stealing any last remnants of mobility.
Only did then her skirt come back down. After a proprietary pat to her rump.

Ironically, that mild little pat only magnified her horror. She choked back a sob as she realised for the first time that this man might have more in store for her than simple murder.