Combat Boots and Reunions book 2

Chapter 1

This is the beginning of the second book in this series the first book was published and can be bought online.  I found it interesting to write while I get input from fans. So tell me what you think?

Chapter 1

Present to Past

Time: the present

Situation: kidnapped by Taliban insurgents in an unknown location in Kandahar, Afghanistan.

Reality: sucks 

       “A soldier best friends in the battlefield is her weapon and her boots.” That’s what Shawn told me. I wish I had him here. I wish I had my weapon here.

       “Where you think you go?” he chuckled. Suddenly my mind started going into panic mode and my breathing started to come a little faster. His presence in the room was suffocating, it was always suffocating, and the pressure of his hand on my arm made it that much worse.

       “J-just…walking.” I stuttered as I tried to get hold of my breathing. I think my fear gives him a hard-on, it feeds his ego. My new philosophy: don’t feed the animals.

       “I think you stay, show me how American girls have good time,” he said slowly as he stepped closer to me, wearing a grin that would chill the blood of a snake.

       “Move,” I ordered him as best I could while giving him a disgusted look.

       His laugh was low, guttural, and sickening “Unlike others, I do not take orders from girls.” His hand moved to grab my cheeks. “I take what I want from them.”

       “Get off me!” The look in my eyes was stern, obstinate, a useless mask given away by my quivering lips. I tried to push him away, my breathing becoming erratic and my heart pounded faster than a humming bird’s wing. Panic was clawing at me, my palms were flushed.

       “Jamal might have been testing your loyalty to your country, but I’m not,” he said, making me look up at him weirdly. Is that why Jamal did that? “I just want a little fun, and I always get what I want” he growled.

       My heart rate spiked again and I tried to move away from him, but his hold on my arm was a vise that wasn’t about to release me. I was starting to hyperventilate, and tried to jerk myself away from him, but all he did was close in on me. Before I even knew what I was doing, I jerked my leg up and kicked him as hard as I could between the legs.

       My well-placed counter-attack brought out a yelp louder than a dog caught in a room full of pissed off alley cats. He groaned and doubled over, letting go of my face and arm, grasping the favorite part of his anatomy in excruciating pain. Before I could process what I did, I saw him glare up at me with a murderous rage.