The man grunted. I flailed, trying to kick him in the knee, but I couldn’t reach it from my angle. I heard a shriek and a curse and hoped Sage was having more luck than me.

The brute hauled me into the living room and tossed me on the sofa. I straightened, mouth open to speak, and he backhanded me across the face. Pain blossomed on my cheek.

I touched the hot skin with the tip of a finger, hardly able to believe he’d hit me. Fear churned in my gut.

These men had burst into our apartment and attacked us. They were masked. They acted like they had no problem hurting people. But I had no idea why they were here, who they were, or what they wanted.

I didn’t wait to find out.

I sucked in a lungful of air and screamed, hoping to alert the neighbors. The brute who’d backhanded me clapped a hand to my mouth and pressed. Hard. I whimpered into his palm. He leaned close, his eyes alive with excitement. He enjoyed this.

“Don’t make another sound or I’ll cut your pretty tongue out.” His breath was warm and fetid. Near the bookshelves, the third man, who’d stayed out of the fray, snorted in amusement. If I had to guess, I’d assume he was the leader.

There was another curse from the other room, and I looked over in time to see a second man, short and stocky, enter with Sage tossed over his shoulder. He dropped her to the floor, then bent and secured her wrists with flexicuffs. That done, he headed toward me, shouldering Brute out of the way.

“Wrists together,” he ordered.

I didn’t comply.

Shorty extracted a knife from his pocket and flipped the blade out. “Now,” he snarled.

With a gulp, I did as he said, even though it seemed like the worst possible move. I had no self-defense training, so what other options did I have? I couldn’t take on three grown men, and Sage didn’t look like she’d be much help. She was rocking back and forth, her expression blank.

“What do you want?” I demanded as he pulled the plastic uncomfortably tight.

The leader stepped away from the bookshelf, where he’d been examining our reading choices, and cocked his head. His impassive face was somehow more terrifying than his companion’s excitement.

“Your brother owes our boss money.” His rough voice grated on my nerves. He sauntered forward, cast a look at Sage, and returned his attention to me. “He needs motivation to pay.”

Slap!

His palm cracked across my face. Warmth spilled down the side of my eye. His bulky ring had cut my skin. Blood trickled in a slow but steady stream, and my head spun. I didn’t do well with blood.

Oh God. We were in trouble.

“Leave her alone,” Sage cried.

She crawled over to me and started to raise her hands as if to touch my face, but then remembered they were cuffed. Something flashed, and we both looked up. Brute held a phone aimed at us. He snapped a second photograph.