Oh my God, there were two men, and there was a good chance I was going to end up like Rooster.

Every female in the world was taught to never let a kidnapper take you from whatever location you were originally at. That the risk of fighting back and getting an unexpected hole in your body was far less than allowing yourself to be taken to wherever.

That realization, something I’d learned ages ago, snapped me out of my shock.

I jerked forward, the movement catching my kidnapper off guard. He stumbled, but his grip tightened until I cried out. I twisted back toward him, catching a flash of an unfamiliar face. I opened my mouth to scream louder than I ever screamed in my entire life. I got a small shriek out before the man cursed, yanking on my arm fiercely. My back was suddenly pressed to his front and his hand smacked down on my mouth.

I smelled cigarettes and some kind of antibacterial hand sanitizer, and immediately panic rose as I tried to breathe through my nose, but I realized something important. With one hand on my mouth and his other arm clamped around my waist, that meant he wasn’t holding a gun or weapon unless he had a third arm.

So I bit down on his hand, biting down until I felt the skin pop. My stomach roiled, but I kept biting.

“Shit!” Mo exploded, jerking his hand away. I was free for a second and then spun out about a foot from him and twisted around so I was facing him. I saw him raise his hand and that was the only warning I had.

Pain burst along my jaw and mouth, and I stumbled back. Tiny starbursts exploded in my vision as the ache radiated down my neck.

“What the hell?” the guy in the SUV demanded, and then let out a string of curses.

“The bitch bit me!” Mo shouted back. “I’m fucking bleeding.”

“You fucking pussy. Jesus. Get her in the car and let’s—”

I didn’t hear the rest, because my blood pressure was through the roof, drowning out all sound, and I wheeled around and ran.

The flats I was wearing weren’t really conducive to booking it, but I ignored the pieces of gravel that dug through the thin soles. I ran toward the front of the building, letting out an ear-piercing scream that pitched high as I was slammed into from behind. I toppled forward, cracking my knees on the ground.

An arm circled my waist, hauling me up, and this wasn’t good. This was bad. So bad. Mo spun around, all but carrying me toward the SUV, which now had the driver’s door open.

I struggled like a cat about to be dunked in a bathtub. I was pulling my legs up and moving my arms like windmills while Mo wrestled with me, and my actions slowed him down. The whole time I screamed.

“What the hell?” shouted a voice from behind us.