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

was; he broke her finger.
    “You couldn't resist the show, eh, De Sant!?” Damiano called out. Marc grimaced and banged on the door.
    “Too scared to fight a man!? Have to pick on little girls!?” he yelled back.
    “Oh, don't worry, I'll get to you next! She was too tempting to leave alone, I had to have a taste!” Damiano laughed, then grabbed Lily's hair again, tugging her head up so she was looking straight forward.
    Marc had expected fear, or pain, to be on her face, but then quickly realized that was stupid. This was Lily. She looked annoyed. Pissed off. Her lips were pressed together in a firm line and she glared at Marc.
    “If you could speed this up, I would greatly appreciate it!” she snapped. Damiano got down low, right against her side, slowly sliding his hand out of her hair, pulling as he went. She winced, then jerked free of him.
    “I didn't realize you were the kind of girl who liked to move fast,” he teased, and Marc's eyes got wide as he watched the drug lord trace his index finger down her ring finger – the one that was right next to her broken pinky.
    “Stop! Stop it! ” Marc yelled, yanking at the door knob, kicking at the door.
    But the man wasn't listening to him. As Marc beat at the barrier between them, he could only watch as Damiano delicately lifted Lily's ring finger. Stretched it up, then put his own finger underneath it. Pushed it backwards. Kept pushing it. Farther and farther, so slowly. Lily's breathing picked up again, heavily through her nose, and Marc began to lose it, even backing away to shoot at the door. It did nothing, and when he looked again, her other hand was white knuckled in its grip on the arm rest. Damiano kept pushing, almost in slow motion, bending her finger at an impossible angle. She opened her mouth and a slow scream came out, matching his speed as he very slowly broke another finger on her hand.
    Marc felt like he was going insane. He and Lily had gone through a lot of shit together, but he'd never seen her like that; not alone and in pain. Not being tortured. He felt like someone was peeling his skin off.
    Having a panic attack won't save her. Move.
    Marc turned and bolted. When he'd dashed down the hall, he'd noticed a set of stairs, and he found them again. He ran up them, taking them two at a time. He had no idea where they led, or even how many flights he went up. He couldn't get Lily's face out of his mind. The pain of having her finger bent back until it snapped in half.
    Move. Move. No time to think. Just keep moving.
    He burst through a door and found himself on the roof. He'd startled a guard, who whirled around at the noise. Marc kept running, ramming into the other guy. They twisted around on the loose gravel that coated the roof. He elbowed the man in the throat, backed away, then shot him in both knee caps.
    As the guard lay wailing on the ground, Marc began running around, checking the perimeter of the building. He found the main entrance, then paused. They'd originally been kept just inside the entrance. Okay. He turned around and walked in a straight path.
    Through the double doors. Maybe fifty feet, then that door. I'm above her. I'm three floors up, but I'm above her.
    When he came to a stop, he was next to a huge boxy contraption. Where a vent came out into the open air. He turned in a circle, doing some guessing. The vent didn't lead down into her room, but it was near it. Marc was willing to bet that meant an air shaft led directly to her room. Into her room.
    A way inside.
    He ran back to the injured guard. The man was crying too much to be a threat, so Marc searched his utility belt. Found another hand gun, then two canisters of tear gas. Perfect. Using the guy's knife, Marc cut away the man's sleeve, then hurried back to the air vent.
    While he sliced open the seam and wrapped the shirt material around his neck, he examined the vent. It was bolted to the roof, but it was flimsy. The building had been hastily constructed. Marc rammed