****
She grabbed her purse from the table in the staff room at the end of the day, a day that had been no different than any other in the past few months, despite the upheaval of the night before.
She hadn’t heard from Grant, which meant he’d likely found himself a new amusement by now. She was disappointed, more so than she should have been over a man she’d known for less than twenty-four hours, and knew from the start that he wasn’t the kind of man to stick around. And that had been fine with her; in fact, it was precisely what had given her the freedom to pursue a carefree night with the devastatingly hot man. But after their evening had been cut short—and she’d spent the entire night submersed in erotic fantasies of him—she couldn’t help but be irritated by the abrupt end.
She pushed him from her mind for the umpteenth time that day, and walked back through the museum on her way out. She still found it strange that she could call up the name of every artifact there, some of them thousands of years old, but her own history was an absolute blank.
She slipped out the back door and paused for a moment, breathing in the night air as the click of the door’s lock sounded behind her. She started through the staff parking lot—empty aside from the security guard’s vehicle parked at the far end—but her step slowed a moment later when she heard footsteps coming up quickly from around the side of the building. Her first thought was Grant, but that was likely wishful thinking. It was probably just a passerby.
She continued toward the back of the lot, toward the street that would lead her to the residential area a few blocks away. A man strode out from beside the building and he continued in her direction, each of his long strides covering the distance of two of hers. She picked up her pace as a shiver ran down her spine, which was ridiculous, of course. This was Las Vegas; there were plenty of people wandering around late at night.
“I bet you didn’t expect to see me again, did you Freya?” the man asked, striding ahead of her and stepping into her path.
She came to an abrupt halt, looking at the man but not recognizing him. Did she know him from before? By the sinister look in his eyes, she got the immediate impression that if she had known him, she would rather not have. He was attractive, with jet black hair, deep green eyes, and a long, thin scar across his cheekbone that only seemed to add to his appeal.
She looked more intently, thinking that if she did know him, something about him would come to mind. Like the artifacts at the museum; though she couldn’t remember how she knew them, their names and origins would pop into her mind, seemingly out of nowhere. But looking at the man, there was nothing.
“I’m sorry, I think you have me confused with someone else,” she replied, and moved to step around him.
He smiled as he stepped in front of her once more. “Is that so?”
He looked to the left and then the right of her as he spoke, and she realized then that several men had appeared on either side of her, though she had no idea where they’d come from.
“Why don’t we just see for ourselves,” he said and two men stepped closer.
All of her focus was on the man directly in front of her. She could only see them out the corners of her eyes, but she could feel them. She could feel the nearly imperceptible vibrations of their steps. She could sense the heat of their bodies warming her skin the closer they came. Her heart pounded so loud she could hear her blood whoosh past her ears, and her knees shook so hard she could barely keep herself upright.
And then a burly hand clasped around her arm, and all of it slipped away.
She stopped shaking and her heart beat a serene, steady rhythm in her chest. She was calm and her mind was clear. There was no fear, no panic; there was nothing but clarity.
Her hand closed over the fingers that dug painfully into her flesh. She twisted and shoved in one smooth motion, snapping the man’s wrist and forcing him several steps back as he hollered in pain.
The next man didn’t even get close. She kicked out at him with lightning speed, making precise contact in the vulnerable center beneath his rib cage. He stumbled back and grasped futilely at his chest; he couldn’t breathe, and her blow to his solar plexus would limit his air supply for several minutes.
Two men approached from behind to take their comrades’ places, but she was ready. She reached back and fastened her hand around one’s wrist, and jerked him hard. He went soaring into the other assailant, knocking them both off their feet.
She was aware of the ringleader’s eyes on her the whole time. He watched on in amused silence, always staying a step outside the fray. “Do you still think I have you confused with someone else, Freya?” he asked, and that made her pause for just a second too long.
The giant of a man who had snuck around behind her clasped her wrists in his meaty hands and jerked her arms backward. She was trapped, and the panic threatened to rise anew.
She tested his grip, but it was too strong. She tugged harder, but he didn’t budge.
The ringleader took a step forward, his evil smile growing wider. “The tables have begun to turn, haven’t they?”
He laughed and took another cocky step forward. This was her chance. She lifted her feet off the ground, resting all of her weight on her trapped hands, and kicked out with all the strength she could muster.
He flew through the air, at least ten feet back, before landing on his back. His head thumped against the ground, making a sound that made her stomach churn. But with the ringleader out of the way, she turned her attention to the giant behind her, kicking back hard with a blow to his knee. She heard the crunch at the same time he cried out, but he didn’t release her hands; instead, he took her with him when he stumbled backward.
He collapsed on the ground and she landed hard on top of him. Feeling the slackening of his hands on her wrists, she tugged forcefully, but as she lunged to her feet, the man—the ringleader—who she had sent flying a moment before was there, and he grabbed her arms, his grip digging so deep into her arms, she heard the crack of her bones shattering.
A wave of panic came crashing down as she cried out in pain. He laughed, but it sounded like a snarl. She searched her mind frantically for the calm that had settled over her, that had given her body more power than she thought possible, but it was just out of reach. She didn’t know how to pull it back. She had no idea where it had come from. And then it leapt even further away as two sets of hands joined the ringleader’s, holding her tightly in vice-like grips.
She was trapped.