Chapter 11Lydia sank her teeth hard into the palm clamped over it.
The cretin howled and shook his injured hand, fingers flapping.
“Let me go, fils de putain,” she snarled in French, adding several expletives in Italian as she drove an elbow backward into his ribs.
Beside her, Addie kicked back hard with one dangling foot, driving the heel of her boot into her captor's shin. He dropped her onto her bottom, and her breath whooshed out. Both hands flew to her belly.
“Easy there, girls,” a sneering voice spoke. Lydia glared at a powerfully built man with a shiny bald head and a luxurious mustache. “Just cooperate and no one gets hurt.”
“Cooperate with you bastards? Forget it.” Addie hauled herself to her feet and spat onto the soil in front of his boots.
“Such language,” he scolded. “Do
