“You can fuck her all you want…after.” The man slapped her hard. “Still out. Toss her in the cage while I tranq the cat.”

A second later, Vic heard the whap of a tranquilizer gun. Fuck, what were they planning? Can’t afford fear-push it aside. When Swane grabbed under her arms, Vic made her move. Clamping her elbows to her sides, she pinned his hands and swung her legs up toward his head. She opened her eyes in time to ensure that her feet hit him in the face. The crack of impact felt infinitely satisfying.

Baldy toppled backward, releasing her.

Jaw set tight, she rolled up and onto her feet.

He rose, shaking his head, looking like he’d been raised on steroids instead of candy. Considering the Marine tattoos covering his neck and arms, his fighting skills might be as good as hers.

Vic took a step back, feeling cartilage grate. That kick hadn’t done her knee any favors. She back-pedaled toward the stairs, trying to disguise her limp. As Swane advanced, she dropped into cat stance, the foot in front tapping the floor lightly, ready to kick him into never-neverland.

“Don’t move, cunt.”

Vic froze. The suit had the tranq gun in his hand, dart already loaded, aimed right at her chest. He motioned to the panther’s cage. “Crawl in or Swane will stuff you in there unconscious.”

She took a step back. In with the mountain lion? The rush of terror made her head spin. “No way.”

“Open it,” the suit said to Swane.

Scowling, Swane worked the combination padlock and half opened the door. “Stop dicking around and just shoot her. Better yet, give her to me for a while. When I get through, she’ll beg for the cage.”

If he tranked her, she wouldn’t have a chance of escaping. Eyeing the groggy cat warily, she bent and entered the cage, feeling Swane’s anger like a wave of heat as she crawled past.

The cat was on its side, head nodding, eyes glazed.