WAR: Opposition: (WAR Book 3) Read Free Page B

would kill her in a second. She wasn’t a human being to him. Just an object on which to vent his anger.
    Shoving her panic far away, she took a careful breath. She had to save her strength if she wanted to make it out of here alive. No more frantic fighting. Next time she fought, it had to matter.
    The other rebel grabbed her wrists.
    Kirra’s stomach lurched at his touch and the panic pushed forward again.
    No. She could do this. She could hold it together. But God, the feel of his fingers around her wrists threatened to shatter her control. She shuddered on a wave of terror and nausea that threatened to bring forward more of her blocked memories.
    To hold back the panic, she dredged up anger and glared up at the rebel standing above her.
    Cold metal touched her wrists, followed by the familiar snick of handcuffs locking. She flicked her eyes toward her hands and saw that the other rebel had fastened the cuffs to the rusted iron security bars covering the window.
    Kirra bit back hysterical laughter. Handcuffs. If they only knew what they’d just done.
    The rebel above her pressed his gun harder against her forehead, then stepped back, removing both his gun and the hand holding her hair. She let her head sag forward and shifted her wrists higher so that the cuffs didn’t press so hard against her wrists. She could not afford to become sick in front of these men.
    Is this how her parents had died? On their knees in front of the rebels? Or had they died in the initial explosions that rocked the peace summit? Dev had only told her that their parents hadn’t suffered, which everyone knew was code for “you can’t handle the truth.”
    “This is yours?” the rebel in charge demanded as he dumped her backpack on the floor next to her.
    Kirra nodded.
    “Search her,” the leader told the other man. “I will search the bag.”
    The rebel was not gentle or respectful as he ran his hands over Kirra. When she flinched, he grinned and groped her even harder. Then his fingers found her money belt.
    “Look here.” The rebel fumbled with the fastener, then yanked the belt free.
    He unzipped the pouch, revealing her passport, money, and travel documents. “Miss Kirra Neilson from South Africa.” He spat out the name of her country as if it were poison. “You do not have much money. I hope that this credit card has a high limit.”
    “Stop wasting time,” the leader snapped. “Finish your job.”
    “Yes, sir.” Her searcher shoved the money belt and its contents into his pocket, then ran his hands over her again, a bit rougher this time.
    Ignoring him, Kirra focused on the man going through her backpack. He was more professional than his groping friend and didn’t show any reaction at all, even as he unrolled her underwear. The only emotion he showed was when he unearthed her bag of tampons and sanitary napkins. He peeked inside, then grimaced and dropped the bag onto the floor as if it were on fire. Once he’d pulled all her personal items out of her pack, he patted the bag down, peering into every pocket as if he expected to find hidden treasure.
    The rebels finished their searches at about the same time. With a disappointed shake of his head, the leader glanced over. “Nothing in her pack.”
    “It is not hidden in her clothing or on her body,” her searcher replied.
    Kirra fought to keep the surprise off her face. What were they looking for? Why did they think she had it? Or was everyone on the bus being searched? They’d shown no recognition of her name, so they didn’t know her history.
    The rebel leader slid his knife out of its sheath.
    Kirra inhaled sharply.
    The man gave her a sharp smile.
    She tensed.

Chapter Three
    A s the sun kissed the horizon, Dev Neilson finished drying off and tossed his towel onto the sand next to his surfboard. Today’s waves hadn’t been as big as he’d hoped for, but after the stress of the past few months, simply being out on the ocean again had taken a weight off his