Unhinged by his White Heat (Unhinged Erotic Romance Series, Book 1)

Chapter 22

Oliver hunched over the steering wheel of his jeep, glaring at the road in his windscreen view. The car whizzed down Third Mainland Bridge, breaking every speed limit. Beside him, Steven's alert eyes scanned the cars coming up behind them and those ahead. They needed to get to Kema without any incident.

Eyes still directed outside, he said, "We'll get to her in time, bro."

Oliver's mouth clamped together. Yes, they would. He would get there in time to save her. The alternative was... unthinkable. "Yes, we have to."

"We will. And don't forget; Kema's a fighter. From all that you and Sheila have told me about her, I know she won't just roll over and show them her belly. Any person who can stand up to Sheila has my respect."

Stealing a glance at Steven, Oliver cleared his throat and then murmured, "Umm... thank you for what you did... back there with Peter. We wouldn't have gotten the information that we did if you hadn't stepped in."

Steven shrugged. He said, "You can thank me after we've gotten her back." He flicked his eyes at Oliver, taking in the clenched hands on the steering wheel, the jutting jaw and the black hair on his brow, wet with sweat despite the air conditioning in the car. He added, "You're my best friend and she's your woman. So she's important to me too."

"Thanks..." Oliver said and then he stared ahead and let out a loud curse.

"Damn." Steven muttered.

A trailer lay on its side like a hulking beast occupying two lanes of the road and disgorging its load in a seemingly endless stream of brown carton boxes onto the asphalt.

***

Blows and slaps rained down on her arms, her cheeks and her shoulders.

She had had only a few seconds to process the hit to her stomach, to feel bile surge up into her throat, to feel woozy before the man she had attacked had sneaked up behind her, threw his arms under her armpits and crossed them under her breasts. He had lifted her in the air so easily, like she was light as a cobweb.

Now, Kema thrashed in his firm grip, trying but failing to dodge Scar-face's strikes. Her stomach burned. Her face, shoulders and arms screamed for mercy. Broken-nose's arms threatened to crush her ribs. When would this torture end? Because she couldn't take any more. No more, please.

In the next moment, she felt herself flying into the air to crash-land into the carpet.

Kema shrieked. She lay there, spread-eagled, battling the fog of darkness that threatened to overpower her. She barely sensed her scar-faced assailant mount her and straddle her hips.

Her eyes fluttered open. His dark face flitted in and out of her gaze. His teeth were white and very large. A vein pulsed in his forehead. He was saying something.

"Because you nearly broke my friend's knee, he will have the first taste. So? What do you think of that?" He guffawed.

Then, she felt a hot, sweaty hand on her bare stomach, circling her belly-button and going lower. No.

His hand popped the top button of her jeans. Zipped down.

Summoning a strength she didn't know she still had, Kema punched him in the face, and again in the shoulder.

"Stop. Stop it." He hissed.

She slapped his face.

"I warned you." He muttered and then reached into his back pocket for something. A knife. A slim, fine-pointed scary-looking knife.