Free Out of Plans (The Mercenaries #2) by Stylo Fantome Page A

before resting his hands on top of hers, his fingers stroking her skin.
    “Why not? You've been very accommodating so far,” she replied. He smirked at her, then gripped her left pinky and snapped it backwards. A clean break. She screamed sharply and tried not look at the finger that was now sticking up at a right angle to her hand. Damiano leaned in close to her face.
    “Because things are about to become very uncomfortable, Liliana. I hope you're ready.”
    Lily took several deep breaths, trying not to gag.
    I hope I am, too.
     
    *
     
    Marc had managed to slip his hand free of his wrist binding and was working on the knot in the rope that was around his waist when he heard the scream. He jerked his head up. It had been short. Quick. Just an outburst. Something painful had happened. He glanced at the lone guard that had been left with him.
    “Hey!” he called out. His guard was looking through a window in the double doors that Lily had disappeared behind.
    “ Qué? ” the guard turned around.
    “I got a question,” Marc sighed, leaning to the side and stretching, trying to camouflage the fact that the rope around his waist was now loose.
    “No English,” the guard managed to say. Marc nodded.
    “Yeah, yeah, my Spanish sucks. But humor me. How does someone become a henchman? Is the money good? Why not freelance? I make a shit ton of money,” Marc rambled. The guard sighed and moved to stand in front of him.
    “ NO. ENGLISH! ” he snapped.
    “Oh yeah? Well NO. ROPE, ” Marc snapped back.
    The guard started muttering to himself, and when he began shaking his head in annoyance, Marc sprung into action. He leapt to his feet, barreling into the other man. Using all the strength in his legs, he launched them across the room, driving the guard into the wall. The guy gasped for air as it was driven from his lungs, but Marc didn't stop moving. His left arm was still tied to the back of the chair and he swung it forward, bringing the piece of furniture down on the guard's head.
    After he'd beaten the man unconscious, Marc removed the rest of the rope from his wrists. Then he grabbed the guard's hand gun, checked that the magazine was full, and slid it into the waist of his pants. He grabbed the rifle next, slinging the strap over his neck and letting the firearm rest against his back. Then he jumped up and crept over to the double doors.
    A peek through the window showed that two guards were stationed at the end of a long hallway, in front of another solid looking door. They were chatting and smiling, obviously oblivious of the fact that their friend was now knocked out and Marc was loose. It would have to be quick, and it would have to clean. Marc took a deep breath and pulled the hand gun out; made sure the safety was off.
    He walked through the doors and before either guard could even lift their own weapons, Marc had planted two bullets in both of them. A head and neck shot, each. They went down and Marc sprinted the rest of the way down the hall, wanting to make it to the door before someone could come out of it.
    When he got there, he saw that the door was made of reinforced steel. He wouldn't be surprised to find there was a bar going across the other side of it. There was a small window cut into it, though, and he looked through, preparing himself for anything.
    It wasn't too bad looking, at first. Damiano was standing up and laughing with a guard, gesturing at the door. The other guards were chuckling as well. Lily was tied into a chair, her head dropped back, and she was staring at the ceiling.
    But as he looked, he realized she was breathing heavily, her chest heaving up and down. Damiano walked closely in front of her and she jerked forward, her head flopping forward on her shoulders so she was staring straight at her lap. There was more laughter, and Marc could see that Damiano was stroking the edge of her pinky. But when he moved away, the finger stayed upright at an awkward angle.
    That's what the scream