CHAPTER TWO
Only ten minutes or so had passed since Marcus had left, and the pebble-throwers had shown up. Now, Dakota stood beneath the freezing cold spray from the shower head, hands raised in front of her. Her knuckles dusted one cheek; the other hand hovered at eye-line in front of her. Her shoulders squared, her legs angled, presenting as small a form as possible to a potential aggressor. The shower would wash the stink. The cold would rouse her.
Now, a bit more awake, awaiting the imminent arrival of the king of Rapid City, she found the tight confines of the shower the perfect place to practice her movements. At least something to keep her mind occupied. Given the freezing water, the slick tiles, the close quarters, it perfectly prepared for the hand-to-hand proximity of the cage.
