Sullivan popped another shot over the seat into Brandon.
Her ears rang, but the vehicle was silent. Dead silent.
As much as she wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and cry, she forced herself to look in the rearview mirror, to assess whatever she could about Brandon in case she was given even a split second’s chance to help.
The latest shot had torn into his shoulder. His left shoulder. Near his heart. His eyes were closed and, dear Lord, she couldn’t tell if he was still breathing or not.
The general slid the Humvee into park between two large generators. Her whole body trembled with rage and injustice and grief over Brandon’s murder until it exploded from her.
She launched herself at General Sullivan, nothing left to lose. “You bastard! You godforsaken piece of shit traitor!”
Screaming, she kicked and clawed, hoping someone would hear her before it was too late. And if not, at least she would leave some scars on Sullivan for the world to see.
The butt of his gun slammed into her jaw. Pain blasted through her. So much. She hadn’t even known it was possible to hurt this bad.
He pinned her to her seat and his evil eyes bored straight into her. “Keep it up, bitch, and we can really celebrate.” His gun dug into her neck, his erection pressing into her stomach. “I like my women with fight in them.”
She went very, very still.
Sullivan smiled, blood dripping from one of the four welts she’d clawed down his cheek. “That’s what I thought.”
He grabbed her arm and hauled her out of the Humvee. She dragged her heels and started to struggle until he pushed the cold steel of the gun against her forehead. He was clearly taking this to the death, so she might as well fight.
And in that moment she realized how right Liam had been earlier. She was a fighter. She hadn’t stepped off, just taken a breather. But Liam was wrong about their not having what it took to build a future together, and she intended to do everything in her power to stay alive and grasp that future with both hands.
Her fists clenched at her side.
The general yanked her arm with brutal strength. “Don’t give me a reason to kill you now. You wouldn’t be the first bitch that got in my way and paid the price.”
Timing. Timing was everything. She needed to wait for the right opportunity. She forced herself to relax in his steely, repugnant grasp. “Where are we going? What are you going to do with me?”
“Shut up. Be a good little girl and you won’t get hurt. I don’t have time for this. Now walk!” He shoved her forward past the open back ramp of some kind of cargo plane and toward the rear wheels.
He kicked the wooden chocks out from the rear tires and dragged her under the aircraft to the other side, where he kicked out the chocks in front of those wheels.
“You’re stealing a plane?”
“It’s on alert for possible rescue missions, so it’s all fueled and cocked on. I’m a general. Nobody questions me.” He started up the ramp, yanking her until her feet tangled. “Come on.”
That was his plan? Bravado, and pull a Steve McQueen with a military aircraft? If so, there should be help on the way soon. She could seriously use some of that Chuck Norris whup ass right about now.
She searched the late-day horizon for the security vehicle’s taillights, just barely visible in the distance.
General Sullivan laughed. “No help there, little lady. We will be out of here before they even know it.”
He dragged her to the entry door on the side of the airplane and pushed her ahead of him roughly. “Turn left and head up to the cockpit.”
She moved forward in the dark toward the murky light-illuminated windows ahead, hearing the aircraft door closing behind her.
“Get in the right seat. Now! That’s an order, understand?”
“Okay, I’m listening, behaving.” She crawled into the copilot’s seat and sat down.
He kept his eyes on her while he climbed into the pilot’s seat on the left. “Put on your seat belt and the shoulder harness.”
Strapping herself in, she willed her hands not to shake, to show no weakness. “There’s not a chance in hell you can get away with this.”
“Your opinion is duly noted. Not that I care.”