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Wiping blood from his mouth, running a hand down his nose to see if it hadn't been broken, again, Gator strolled toward the downed woman. Flick sprang instantly from the truck, seizing her arm behind her back, rolling her onto her belly. He pinned her down even as he checked her pulse. "Not dead, stunned." He grinned up at Gator. "You look a little stunned yourself."
"Shut up and get her bound."
Zip ties lashed her hands. As Flick shifted his weight to go for the ankles, she wrenched away, kicking him in the nuts and scrambling half-way up again.
With a dive like a football tackle, Smitty swept her legs, seizing her and hauling her over his shoulder, her head dangling toward the ground.
Gator grabbed her hair, forcing her to look at him as Flick dealt with her ankles. "Give up and be glad we're not that kind of crew."
Her eyes flashed. Scrapes marred the side of her face, and even in her brief time nearly vertical, she displayed disorientation and uncoordinated movement. The truck may not have broken anything, but neither was she unscathed. Good.
She stared back at him, not saying a word. Flick produced a short rope and bound her arms against her chest. Rope and duct tape could be wriggled free of, especially if you had experience, which Gator bet that she did. Zip ties? Nearly impossible.
Gator groped his free hand along her sides, finding a spare mag for the pistol she'd lost, a set of keys for the Jeep she must've stashed somewhere, and little else.
"Got it." Monty's voice emerged from the darkness, then he approached, holding out a cell phone. His glance slid toward the woman, then away.
"Semper fi, asshole," she said.
Monty slumped a little. Maybe. Or maybe Gator was seeing things. After all, it hadn't been so easy on him, either.
Gator held the phone in front of her inverted face. Hard to tell with her skin tone if the blood was rushing to her head, but he knew it would be. Keep her disoriented as long as possible. "What's your passcode?"
"You wanna post on my insta? Forget it."
He gave her hair a twist, lifting her toward him. "You need to call your boss. Unless you want a cuppa Joe."
She stared, then said, "Emergency call. That's his number."
Gator tapped the link, then displayed it to Monty. "Is it?"
"Looks right." He stood nearby, but facing toward Gator, resolutely away from their captive. That conversation may've done more than Gator bargained for, something he'd have to deal with unless he wanted to hire another hacker. But then, maybe it was time.
Gator eyed the number on the screen. This was gonna be fun.