Free Freedom Does Matter (Mercenaries Book 2) by Tony Lavely Page A

back on her heels and contemplated. Well, it doesn’t matter, she assured herself. She’s in my room with a knife. I don’t care what she is. In a moment, she knew she was trying to convince herself; having a girl in that position didn’t seem right.
    “Damn,” she said softly as another possibility raised its ugly head. “I guess the first thing I should have ripped off…” Again she lifted the girl’s head by the neck and seized the top of the balaclava.
    The face exposed was more rounded than long; her skin was the deep tan Beckie’d come to associate with the sheikhs and their people at the meetings. Blood tricked from her lip and from a gash along her cheekbone. Her hair, like her eyebrows, was black, but it had been chopped off; no more than four inches long, sweat under the hood had matted it to her skull.
    But those observations vanished into the picture on Kevin’s monitor; Beckie’s heart pounded as her chest went tight. Her arm went up and she began to swing her fist at the girl’s head. Of course! She’s the one shot Ian! She pulled the punch and cursed, “Fuck! I can’t just beat her to death… Pfaugh!”
     
    Beckie rolled the girl onto her belly to check the bindings, then dragged and shoved and pushed until she lolled against the wall. She fetched a chair, set it over the girl’s legs and seated herself where she could stare into her captive’s eyes.
    With another, not so gentle, pinch, she assured herself that the girl was still unconscious. She replaced her sleep shirt with shorts and tee and headed for the minibar. When she returned, she carried containers of juice and water. She had finished half of the juice when the thought that the girl had been unconscious too long struck her. God, I hope I didn’t kill her! With a shake, she called, “Hey! You in there?”
    Again she knelt by the girl, this time to touch her neck; the girl’s pulse pounded under her finger. The motion of her chest proved she was breathing. Okay, then. That’s good. No smelling salts, so… she held the water bottle upside down over the girl’s face for a three count. 
    The girl revived, albeit slowly. With her arms secured, she couldn’t reach to hold her head, but Beckie wasn’t interested in making her feel like anything but a prisoner. Why? I need to know why.
    The girl’s mumbles were foreign. Yeah, that’s to be expected. Sure hope she speaks English. Enough English. Realizing her course would be determined by that answer, she slapped the girl’s cheek, not hard, just enough to convince her to open her eyes. When her black eyes opened, the girl tried to swing her head away from Beckie’s glare, but she caught her chin and held her head.
    “Do you speak English?” Nothing. Beckie put the water bottle against her lips. When she tried to twist away, Beckie pushed it between her lips. “It’s all over you. If it was poison, you’d already be dead.”
    She took a few swallows, but Beckie expected that was to keep from drowning rather than acquiescence. She checked the girl’s bindings again. “You understand me?”
    The girl’s head turned slightly; this time a flash of fear showed in her eyes.
    “I guess you do. Well, we have things to talk over. In a minute—”
    “I have nothing to talk to you.”
    The girl’s voice was almost mechanical; the small error caught Beckie’s attention. “We’ll see.” She smiled. “I’m not sure exactly how we’ll work this. I don’t want to turn you over to the police, yet, but…” The depth of confusion on the girl’s face impressed Beckie. It almost covered the embarrassment.
    “May I be covered?”
    “What? No, not yet. Maybe after we talk.” Beckie wondered how much leverage she could get from the girl’s discomfiture. “Should I have my partner come in and question you?”
    Even with the girl’s complexion and light covering of dirt, Beckie could see her blanch. She didn’t speak, just dropped her head and shook it. Beckie heard, so