Molly woke sometime in the wee hours of morning. A loud creak had come from her living room. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she pulled the gun from between her mattress and headboard. She flipped the safety off and slid out of bed carefully.
She heard the loose board in her hallway let out a squeak. Molly blew out a long breath and took up a position on the side of her wardrobe. It offered maximum cover and she had a clear shot at whomever came through her door.
Her bedroom door swung open noisily and a black clad figure took a step in.
Molly shot him and his brain matter sprayed all over the blue of her bedroom walls. Nobody else came in, but she heard the whispered oath.
"Morning, boys," she called, never loosening her grip on the gun.
"Put down your gun, Lieutenant Booker!"
Molly fired a shot through her half open bedroom door, blowing a hole in the wood. There were more swears.
"Come and take it, ya sorry bastard!"
She recoiled behind her wardrobe as bullets peppered her room. She could smell the gunpowder as the shots died down.
"Lieutenant?" the man called warily. She answered with another shot. A loud curse came from the hall. Molly squeezed off three more rounds.
"Put down your gun or we'll have to use lethal force!"
Molly allowed herself a smirk. These guys weren't professionals, not really.
"What say you put down yours and tell me what this is about?" she suggested pleasantly. There was a long silence. Molly didn't think for a second that they had left.
"Lieutenant, don't make this any harder on yourself," the same voice warned. Molly rolled her eyes.
"I was discharged, hon, I'm not a lieutenant any more. Who sent you?"
"We're looking for John Booker. Call him and we'll leave you alone!"
"What do you want with John Booker?" Molly's eyes narrowed at the mention of her father.
"You don't need to involve yourself. Just tell us where we can find him!"
Molly laughed derisively. How dense was this guy?!
"He's my Dad. I'd say I'm pretty involved. How's about you tell me who sent you to find him and I won't kill you."
Hot pain erupted in her shoulder. She felt it as the gun shot stopped ringing in her ears. Molly sucked in a sharp breath and pressed her back to the wall.
Lowering her gun, she peeled the already bloody sleeve of her t-shirt up to assess the wound. It was merely a graze.
Before she could even make another move, her gun was being wrenched from her hand and a tall young man with blue eyes was squeezing her throat. Molly dug her thumb into the inside of his wrist and brought her knee up to his groin.
He groaned and slammed his fist into her solar plexus. The air was expelled from her lungs and the butt of a pistol was brought down hard on her temple.
Molly's vision was fuzzy when she regained consciousness. Her hands were bound tightly behind her. She had been moved to her living room and was laying on her side.
The left side of her face itched from the blood that had dripped down her brow and dried. With the sun streaming in through her windows, she could see the intruders clearly.
There were four. All were of medium height with cropped hair and tactical gear.
"Well, howdy, boys," she drawled, looking up at them. One with blonde hair stormed over and slammed his steel toed boot into her side.
Molly rolled over, a pained groan escaped from her throat.
"Enough!" The one who had been trying to reason with her last night pulled her attacker back. "You need to call John Booker," he ordered brusquely. Molly looked up into his icy blue eyes.
"Do I look like his secretary?" she snapped. The blonde one stepped forward and she braced herself for another blow that never came.
"Lieutenant Booker, if you do not cooperate, we have been authorized to use less than friendly persuasion tactics. Is that clear?"
"Go on, boys, bring on the thumb screws," she taunted.
"Are you going to call him!?" Blue Eyes screamed at her as her face was pulled out of the water. It had to be pushing noon. They had graduated from threats to pummeling, and they had moved to her kitchen about forty five minutes ago.
Her deep, stainless steel sink was filled with water. Her feet were spread apart and the vicious blonde, whose friend she had killed last night, was behind her, one hand wrapped in her curly hair.
When Blue Eyes would give the go ahead, Blondie would force her face into the water.
Molly knew not to panic, though. Panicking wasted her breath. She stayed calm, despite her burning lungs.
"Go f*ck yourself!" she snarled at him. Blue Eyes nodded and Blondie shoved her face back into the water.
Molly closed her eyes and counted the seconds, letting air out through her nose occasionally.
Thirty...Thirty one...Thirty- She opened her mouth and filled it with water just before Blondie yanked her up.
"Are you ready to call John Booker?" Blue Eyes demanded, calmer than before. Molly spat the water at him. His face got very red. "Drain the water," his voice was cold.
Molly was spun so her back was pressed against the edge of the counter. A loud grating noise filled her ears as the water was sucked down the drain.
She instinctively tried to get up, but Blondie pressed his arm against her throat. There was a sharp jerk on her head and fear wrapped its icy fingers around her heart.
Molly bit her lip to stop the scream that was fighting to rip from her throat. Her hair was being sucked down the garbage disposal.
She was bent so far into the sink that her toes barely touched the ground. The disposal gave another mechanical growl and she snapped.
"Ok! Ok! Christ! I'll call him!"
The garbage disposal was turned off and she let out a breath. A phone was thrust into her face. Molly scoffed. "Cut me loose. My Dad will know something's up if my head's halfway down the sink," she ordered breathlessly.
"Tell us the number first," Blue Eyes ordered, pulling a satellite phone out. Molly debated it for a moment, but then rattled off Barney's number. Blue Eyes nodded to Blondie. "Cut her loose."
Blondie pulled a lethal looking switch out of his pocket and pressed it onto her left brow. Molly did her best to muster a dark glare.
"Emerson..." Blue Eyes warned his comrade.
"She killed Hal!" Blondie spat, "We've got the number. We don't need her!"
"John Booker will never come if his daughter's dead. Mess up her face if you want, but don't kill her," Blue Eyes warned.
Blondie, or Emerson, pressed the knife harder into her skin. Molly felt hot blood welling up and dripping down onto her eyelid.
"How important is your eye to you, Lieutenant Booker?" Emerson leered, his breath hot on her face. Molly jerked her head to the side and brought her knee up into his groin. The knife missed her eye before digging back into her cheek, carving out a curved line to the corner of her jaw.
"You bitch!" Emerson spat as she blinked blood out of her eyes.
"Enough! Cut her loose so we can get Booker!" Blue Eyes barked.
Emerson sawed through her hair with his switch, being as rough as possible. Molly felt the blood rush from her head as she straightened. Her spine cracked painfully.
"You gonna hold the phone to my ear?" she jerked her head to her hands, still bound behind her back. Blue Eyes scowled.
"Go on, Emerson. Don't try anything, Lieutenant," Blue Eyes warned severely. Molly crossed her heart before taking the phone from him.
It rang a few times before Barney picked up.
"Booker?"
"Hey, Dad," she greeted cheerily.
"Booker, what the hell?" Barney demanded, confused.
"Oh, I'm fine, how are you?" she asked pleasantly. Barney let out a few, choice oaths at her.
"You've got three seconds to-"
"How's that job turning out?...Oh, you're almost done? Nice! Maybe we can get together and watch football when you get Stateside."
"Booker, what's going on?"
"I love you, too, Daddy, be safe," she simpered before hanging up. Before either of her captors could ask her anything, she slammed the phone into Blue Eye's head and pulled the knife from the sheath at his hip. She drove it right into Emerson's throat.
Blood sprayed on her face as Blue Eyes let out a shout. Molly pushed the knife up and under his ribs.
She had snatched up his sidearm by the time the other two invaders had arrived. She emptied the clip into their guts.
Mentally, she did a count. Yes, there had only been four, after she killed the first in her bedroom last night.
Molly dropped the now empty gun onto the linoleum of her floor and groaned. That would be five bodies to take care of.
