Page 29 of Stolen Faith
“You think you’re a big fucking tough guy, don’t you?” Camo Cast turned his attention back to Rowan, seemingly satisfied that his lackeys had shut her up. He tried to punch Rowan again, but Rowan ducked, taking the blow on his shoulder rather than his face. “Not so fucking tough now, is ya?” He had a distinct Southern accent that, when paired with this museum of animal head horrors, made her seriously wonder where they were.
She’d thought maybe they were up in Maine, which wasn’t too far from Boston, but perhaps they were considerably farther away.
Brennon had remained quiet up until that point. “Why don’t you just tell us what you want?”
Tweedledum reached out, slapping the back of Brennon’s head hard enough that it jerked forward. “Nobody’s talking to you, shit for brains.”
Brennon shook his head, as if clearing it.
Rowan remained silent. His face could have been carved in stone, given his utter lack of emotion.
“Say something, you stupid fucking prick!” Camo Cast demanded.
“How’s your arm?” Rowan asked.
Obviously, that was the wrong thing to say because after that, the man stopped shouting insults. Stopped asking questions.
He beat Rowan.
Rowan managed to twist and shift for the next few blows, but then Camo Cast kicked him in the shoulder, hard enough that Rowan fell onto his side.
He tried to sit up, Izabel could see his muscles straining, but Camo Cast’s foot connected with Rowan’s back.
Oh God, oh God. What if they broke his spine?
“Hey, hey, Camo Cast,” she called, desperate to pull his attention away from Rowan.
All three of the men ignored her.
Rowan managed to turn over, Camo Cast’s heavy boot connecting with Rowan’s side and upper thigh, over and over. Hard, heavy, painful blows.
Tweedledee and Tweedledum chuckled and cheered but remained by the door. Thank God. If all three of them decided to get in on it, they’d kill him.
Izabel felt sick to her stomach, wondering how much more her fiancé could endure.
Rowan grunted a few times, twisting his body as much as the chains would allow, but with his limited movement, there was no escaping the pain being rained down on him by the heavy boots.
Izabel tried again. “Stop it. Stop! Please. Just stop!”
Camo Cast ignored her and kept kicking. Brennon’s shoulders were twitching, as if he were struggling against the ropes around his wrists, desperate to get free. She yanked against the zip-ties at her wrists and elbows.
If only she could get free, she’d…what?
What the hell did she think she and Brennon could do?
Finally, breathless, Camo Cast stopped his assault, reaching down to grab a handful of Rowan’s hair. He jerked Rowan up to a sitting position, then yanked his head back so that he was looking up at him. If the man expected Rowan to look cowed after the beating, he was destined for disappointment.
Rowan simply stared back at him, so fucking cool, butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. The pride Izabel felt in her fiancé worked in direct opposition to her need to scream at Rowan, “You idiot, he’s going to keep hurting you if you don’t stop staring him down.”
“I’m just getting started, dickhead. Going to hurt you real good.”
Izabel could tell the leader meant every single word of his threat. None of this made sense. Why was he so focused on Rowan and not on her?
“Just stop,” she said once more, but as before, her words fell on deaf ears.
The leader lifted his hand, intent on slapping Rowan again, but he paused when the sound of some ear-splitting heavy metal came from his pocket. Pulling his phone out, he grinned when he looked at the screen.
“You just got yourself a reprieve,” the leader said. “For now.” He turned and headed back to the door, Tweedledee and Tweedledum following in his wake, the door slamming hard behind them.