Preacher (SEAL Team Tier 1 Book 2) by Zoe Dawson

Author:Zoe Dawson [Dawson, Zoe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blue Moon Creative
Published: 2022-11-11T18:30:00+00:00

Volk groaned softly, his shoulders aching, pulling tight. He opened his eyes and found he was in a dim area surrounded by rock. Across from him, Zorra hung, her chin on her chest, completely naked, like him. These bastards weren’t taking any chances. Her lithe, toned body was covered with bruises. Fuckers.

He had to wonder what she’d given up, if anything. Shadowguard were trained to take a beating, but in the end, everyone broke. He could only hope she hadn’t reached her threshold.

His forearm stung and he knew what they’d injected into him. The fucking Gruber Vial, remotely controlled and filled with poison.

He was a dead man if he didn’t get it out of him. It was just a matter of time.

The sound of a door opening was followed by footsteps echoing in the chamber. A man walked around him, masked, only his dark eyes visible. Keys jingled at his belt. Ah, the key master. He took note of that. He also took note of the cattle prod in his right hand. Time for some fun and games.

“We’d like the codes to your CIA database,” he said.

Volk grinned. “I’d like to rip your head off. I guess we can’t always get what we want.”

The prod came up and slammed into his ribs, delivering more volts than he expected. He clenched his teeth. Volk was ready for the jolt. It hurt like hell, but he didn’t give the guy the satisfaction of a grunt.

The guy’s eyes narrowed. He stepped closer. Yeah, exactly what Volk wanted. “The codes,” he said, his voice menacing.

“Fuck you,” Volk said grasping the chain attached to the handcuffs around his wrists.

This time the guy aimed for his genitals, but Volk used his thigh to block, which set the guy off balance, close enough for him to wrap his legs around the guy’s neck and twist, effectively breaking the guy’s neck.

As soon as he was down, Volk lifted his legs so his knees were against his chest and curled up until he could slide his body along the beam above his head. As soon as he took the pressure off his shoulders, he grit his teeth, his muscles protesting. Pull-ups were gold.

He reached into his curls and pulled out a bobby pin, inserted it into the cuffs one after the other, springing the locks.

Now free of the chains, he slipped off the beam and hung down, letting go. He hit the floor, bending his knees. With efficient movements, he stripped the guy of everything and dressed in the pants and T-shirt, reserving the button-up shirt for Zorra. Grabbing up the keys, he walked over to Zorra and unhooked the chain, lowering her down slowly. When she hit the floor, he ran over to her and unlocked the cuffs. He slapped her face gently.

“Zorra? Come on. Wake up.”

Her eyes popped open. She smiled and said, “What took you so damn long?”

He grinned. “Traffic.”

She laughed softly, groaning. “I don’t care what anyone says, Volk. You do have a sense of humor.

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