Free Breaking Point by Pamela Clare

she saw the keys lying on the floor among scattered grapes. “I found them!”
    “Hot damn! You did it, Natalie! Now, get me out of here!”
    She tucked the gun in the back of her pants, grabbed the knife and the keys, and with trembling fingers searched for the one that unlocked the door to Zach’s cell. Three keys were bigger than the rest and looked like they might fit the shape of the keyhole.
    She hurried to his cell door and tried the first. It slid into the keyhole but didn’t turn. “Oh, come on!”
    Men’s voices made her look over her shoulder.
    “They’re still inside.” Zach’s voice soothed her, only now she could see him—a dark silhouette hunched against the wall. “Don’t think about them. Work the lock.”
    Heart thrumming, she tried the second key. It slid easily into the keyhole, and . . .
    Click.
    She opened the cell door, cringing as it squeaked on its hinges, then hurried inside and knelt down in front of Zach, looking at the smaller keys on the keychain. “One of these should open your cuffs . . .”
    She lifted her gaze to look at him—and felt a hard lump in her throat.
    Battered and bruised, he sat with his arms behind his back, his manacles locked to a thick chain that was bolted to the wall, his skin smudged with dirt and covered with burn marks. Had he sat like this all night? She couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable he was, how much he had suffered.
    “The key for the manacles will be small and very simple.”
    But Natalie wasn’t looking at the keys. She was looking at his face with its thick growth of stubble, bruises, and streaks of dirt, pain, and exhaustion etched on every feature. Acting on instinct, she reached behind his head, untied the humiliating blindfold and let it fall.
    Gray eyes stared intently into hers, and she forgot to breathe.
     
    ZACH’S GAZE FIXED on Natalie’s—and his mind went blank just as it had the first time he saw her. Her face only inches from his, she was even more beautiful than he remembered, her dark lashes long and thick, her pupils dilated by the darkness and adrenaline, the bruises on her face making her seem fragile. And out of nowhere, he felt an insane urge to kiss her.
    Are you losing your fucking mind, McBride?
    “Which . . . which key?” She looked down at the keys in her palm.
    “The little one in the center.”
    He turned to give her access to his wrists, felt the key click, the bite of steel falling away, his wrists finally free. He tried to move his arms, only to be blindsided by pain.
    Unable to stop himself, he let out a groan and slumped forward, his arms hanging, lifeless and aching, from shoulders that screamed.
    She caught his weight, his head falling onto her shoulder. “I’m so sorry. What they did to you—it’s terrible.”
    “Yeah. It sucked.” He croaked out the words, fighting the pain, willing himself to sit upright. Then he slowly rolled his shoulders and flexed his elbows to work the stiffness out of his joints and muscles. “Now it’s payback time.”
    Big talk for a guy who can’t get off his ass, McBride.
    From across the courtyard came the sound of two Zetas arguing.
    “How many men did you see last night?”
    “Six, I think.” She looked toward the half-open door. “They’re coming.”
    “Not yet. They’re arguing over who should drive the hookers back to town.” He took the keys and unlocked the cuff that still held her right wrist, dropping both cuffs and keys to the floor. “Give me the pistol. Keep the knife, and don’t hesitate to use it.”
    “Okay.” She pressed cold steel into his right palm.
    A Norinco M-77B—a Chinese military pistol. How it had ended up in Juárez, he could only guess. He turned the weapon over, testing its weight in his hand. Then he checked the magazine and found it fully loaded—nine 9mm rounds. “Listen to me, Natalie. From here on out, you’ll do exactly what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it. Is that understood?”
    She nodded.
    It was the