“If I don’t answer, they are going to be in the wind. That’s what John T said.”

Mary hit Lauren again, harder, and the taste of blood filled her mouth as she spun hard and sprawled over the back of the couch. It was the only thing that kept her on her feet.

“You’re lying. My sister wouldn’t do that.”

“You didn’t find the courtesy van in the parking lot, did you? That’s what they used to transport the New Species. They don’t want whatever phone they are using traced to my phone since I’m calling the NSO. They are having some stranger call and I’m supposed to answer with a code word. You’re not getting that out of me because then I know you’ll kill me.” She watched her blood drip on the couch, stain it, and used her hand to wipe some of it from her chin. “It’s Mel you should be pissed at. I’m just the idiot who lost her job and desperately needed money enough to do whatever she said.”

“They wouldn’t run like that,” one of the men said. “Mel wouldn’t do that. You know that, Mary. She’s lying.”

“You have five minutes to tell me where my sister is before I have the animal start breaking your bones. Do you know he can snap them in seconds? I won’t have him kill you by breaking your neck. You’ll lie there bleeding on the inside, in the kind of excruciating pain you can’t even imagine, until you die of shock. It will be the longest minutes of your life. Tell me where to find my sister. You’re going to die but it’s up to you how painful you want your last moments to be.”

Lauren saw the truth in her eyes and one glance at the New Species’ grim expression assured her that he believed it too. She had to change tactics. Nothing was going to save her if she didn’t think of something fast.

She allowed the tears to well in her eyes, not something difficult to do since the inside of her mouth hurt.

“Fine. I do have a number for them. I was supposed to call it when the NSO has the cash ready for the exchange but I’ll let you talk to your sister. She will tell you not to kill me.”

“What’s the number?” Mary seemed to calm.

“I don’t know it by heart. John T wrote it down and I hid it in case the NSO showed up here. It’s in the top drawer of my desk.”

“Get it.” Mary jerked her head at one of the thugs.

The desk sat across the room by the hallway and Lauren’s mind tried to figure out her next move. It was hard to think around the fear that gripped her but she wanted to live. She purposely stumbled, held her head, and hoped she appeared more hurt than she really was. Her cheek throbbed, the taste of blood lingered in her mouth, and she knew the inside of it was torn up a bit. One of Mary’s men trailed closely behind her as she walked to her desk.

The desk was old, a hand-me-down from an uncle, and the drawer had to be wiggled to get it open. A stack of her bills were on top and she shifted papers. The thug moved to her side. She glanced at him, but he wasn’t watching what she was doing. Instead he peered around the room.

Her fingers brushed metal under the papers, gripped it, and Lauren allowed sheer panic to lead her actions. They were going to kill her, she wasn’t getting out of this mess alive, and there was only one thing to do. Her other hand gripped the small scrap of a fortune cookie message that had been funny enough to keep. She purposely dropped it on the floor.

“Sorry. I’m shaking. It’s on there.”

He bent to retrieve it and Lauren acted. It horrified her, she screamed inwardly, and knew her life changed forever in the instant that she plunged the letter opener as deep as she could into the back of the man’s neck. Her hand fisted the handle of the sharp implement, she twisted hard to do more damage and heard his gasp of pain.

His body dropped to the floor, she dodged in the opposite direction and hit the side of the wall in her haste to flee toward her bedroom. She screamed, hoping to draw attention from the neighbors. It might scare off the remaining people in her living room if they thought the police would be called.

“Get her, 140,” Mary yelled.

Lauren reached her room, spun around and grabbed the doorknob. She got a glimpse of the big, grim New Species coming at her as she slammed the door closed and locked it. The shelf full of paperback books next to it was only waist high but heavy as she had to strain to tip it over. It fell sideways to block the door. Another scream erupted as something big thumped against the door.

She spun and dashed for the bathroom, slammed that door too and locked it. She tore open the drawer that housed her makeup to block the door and scrambled to climb up on the sink. The window she always left halfway open for Tiger was her only escape.

The thing stuck, didn’t want to open all the way, but desperation drove her to find that extra amount of strength to jerk it up. A loud sound in the other room assured her that the New Species had just burst through her barricade and now had breached her bedroom.

It wasn’t easy to fit through the tight space and she silently swore to get on a treadmill as she wiggled and finally fell to the ground below the window. Pain shot up her arms as her hands braced the impact to protect her face from hitting the grass first. She fought to her feet and screamed again, sure some of her neighbors would hear her now that she was outside and ran for the front of the building.

Two strong arms grabbed her and tore her right off her feet. The body she hit was solid, big, and two thick, muscular arms were banded around her waist. Lauren twisted her head and stared up in horror at 140.