by Jackson, Pam
To her surprise, she felt his chest move off of her. Although his body was still caging her on top of the table, she knew his interest was piqued and his guard was down.
She lifted her knees and he moved slightly away, allowing her to spread her legs in a suggestive manner. Her pants were torn but not yet removed, and her panties were, thankfully, intact.
“Let me show you how I like it, Luca.” She watched as he licked at his bloodied lips with a perverted lust. This was her chance. She hoped she could distract Eberstark long enough for Clay to gain an advantage.
She was now able to move her arms from behind her back, and she began to slowly remove Eberstark’s white camo jacket. This was it. With a sudden blast from her exhausted body, she kneed him between his legs, sending him fumbling backward in pain. Her mind witnessed this in slow motion, and she was thankful she had found the strength to push him away and confuse him—if only for a few seconds.
And now it was Clay’s turn.
Chapter 27
Clay’s fury was like deadly venom. The last two minutes were brutal as he watched Andie being choked and almost raped, and then bluffing Eberstark into a state of ease with her sweet, sensual words. It almost sent Clay into a fit of destruction. But he held back his dark anger, knowing he would need all of his rage to overcome and kill Eberstark.
This was it. With a heavy, booted foot, he smashed through the rotting plank and found himself plummeting through the ceiling of the cabin. He landed with a crushing blow on Eberstark’s back, and Clay knew he’d have only seconds before Eberstark would regain his tactical edge and the deadly fight would begin.
Secretly, Clay enjoyed these encounters; the darkness of his savage alter ego craved them. But this fight would be more brutal and bloody than anything he had experienced. Seeing Andie battered and torn had sent him into a beastly state.
The two men rolled to the floor with loud grunts and curses. Their bodies split from each other after the sudden impact from Clay’s fall, as each took up a tactical position.
Eberstark was the first to pull a weapon: a fixed, five-inch Boker tactical knife that had been sheathed in a holster attached to his ankle. He jumped into a defensive, triangular fighting stance, ready to use his lethal knife skills on Clay.
Clay, still on his knees, scanned the cabin for a weapon. He didn’t want to use the Colt attached to his thigh just yet—he was saving that last bullet for the end, whether it was Eberstark’s end or Tivoli’s. His eyes met Andie’s, and she was still breathing—bruised, bleeding and terrified, but breathing. Clay was grateful for that.
“Eberstark, I just want you to know that when I kill you for putting your fucking hands on my girl, it will be slow and painful.” Clay hissed out the threat from behind clenched teeth. He grabbed the tomahawk from the ground, where it lay after Eberstark had forced it from Andie’s grip.
“Ha! You are no match for me. I should have killed you back in that cave. Leaving you alive once today was a mistake. But now I will slice you apart in front of your wicked whore, and then I will do the same to her as she watches you bleed out.”
Clay rose to his feet with the agility of a cat—not bad for a big guy with a five-inch steel knife staring him in the face. “Yeah, yeah, asshole. I’m hard to kill, so just shut the fuck up and show me your mad skills.” Clay’s adrenaline was pinned in the red, and he was eager to finish this fuck head right now so he could tend to Andie.
Eberstark lunged like a straight arrow, knife in hand, at Clay’s right flank. Clay deflected the jab with a block of his left arm, and he swung his tomahawk at Eberstark’s midsection. Eberstark arched his back and averted the blow, taking another thrust at Clay. This deadly dance went on for several more seconds, with hard slices and forceful jabs cutting through the air as each opponent twisted and whirled to avoid a direct hit.
“This is getting boring, and you’re looking like a tired ol’ man,” Clay scoffed, delivering a hollow laugh and another slice of the tomahawk in Eberstark’s direction. “I’m just going to fucking kill you now.”
Eberstark crouched down and knocked Clay’s legs from under him with a round kick, planting Clay flat on his back against the warped floor boards. Eberstark pounced onto Clay’s chest like a rabid wolf and drove quick, hard strikes toward Clay’s head with his knife. Clay deflected each blow with his strong forearms, but some of the strokes caught Clay’s skin and opened up small gashes in his flesh that caused him to drop the tomahawk. Crimson blood began to flow down his arms, but Clay was unfazed by the wounds. He began to modify his defensive position as he kicked up his legs and rolled Eberstark onto his side. Clay grabbed at the bloody tactical knife in Eberstark’s hand and tried to force it away, but Eberstark maintained his grip as he maneuvered the blade closer to Clay’s face and eyes.
As the two warriors grunted and strained for the ultimate killing position, Clay noticed from the corner of his eye that Andie was turning from horrified to catatonic. He knew this savage battle had to end now, or Andie wouldn’t recover from being a witness to such violence. He needed another weapon. His holstered Colt 1911 was out of reach, and Eberstark had most of his body pinned—he needed to improvise. He searched the room with his eyes, and with a satisfied groan, he saw the proper tool to kill Eberstark.
Clay wrapped his solid legs around Eberstark’s waist and began to squeeze the air from the man’s chest cavity. Eberstark’s diaphragm was immobilized against his abdominal wall, and his breathing became labored. But Clay couldn’t keep up this hold for much longer, so he rolled Eberstark onto his back, gaining the dominant position. With the knife still in Eberstark’s grip, Clay rolled their knotted bodies into the doorway of the narrow bedroom.
Clay took a deep breath and then released Eberstark from his crushing leg grip.
Eberstark quickly rolled on top of Clay, dropped his knife, and gripped Clay’s thick neck in a choke hold.
With a trained hand, Clay managed to keep most of the pressure of Eberstark’s grip away from his trachea.
That’s right, motherfucker ... choke me. Just what I wanted you to do ... so damn predictable. Clay knew he had to lull Eberstark into a false sense of security. A narcissist’s ego would always betray him—it was just a matter of time.
“You will die in front of your whore! You were no match for me, hero,” Eberstark growled out.
Andie’s sudden cry sent heated daggers into Clay’s mind. She was still watching from the adjacent room, and it was apparent that she was witnessing his imminent death. This was going to kill her if he didn’t move fast and finish this.
Clay tucked his knees under Eberstark’s torso, then released his defensive grip on Eberstark’s hands. A dry hiss of air vented from Clay’s throat, and he knew his trachea was collapsing in Eberstark’s clutches.
With a last burst of ferocity, Clay extended his hands and drove a stabbing thumb into Eberstark’s left eye, causing Eberstark to release his death grip on Clay’s neck. Clay thrust Eberstark off of him, using his tucked knees as leverage, and launched Eberstark directly into the menacing, taxidermied bear head mounted on the wall.
A low, wet gurgle and a German curse blew from Eberstark’s bloodied mouth as he looked down at his limp body and then up at Clay’s ruthless stare.
Eberstark, bearing a look of pure astonishment, realized his chest was impaled on the massive, sharpened elk antlers affixed to the bear’s head.
“Eberstark, meet Murdoch,” Clay spat out. “I knew someday that fucking bear would get his revenge for having to wear pussy elk antlers.” Clay stood up and triumphantly stared down Eberstark, knowing there was no way in hell he was getting off of that spiked rack.
“You think it’s over?” Eberstark seethed as blood poured from his mouth. “Ha! Tivoli is still out there, and trust me, he will never stop until Andie is punished. Keep one eye open when you sleep, he will not stop until that whore is dead.”
Eberstark’s words incensed Clay, and he thought of the threatening voice mail Tivoli
had left Andie. Tivoli would be next if Clay had his way, but unfortunately, the legal system frowned upon vigilantism. Tivoli would soon be Mirandized and given a plea deal to turn on Ospina.
This shit wasn’t over yet. Tivoli would just send another shithead merc out to kill Andie. Even if Tivoli were behind bars, he could still wield his corrupt power with his flush bank accounts and pocketed government officials.
“Ah, you know I’m right, hero. Your whore will die,” Eberstark said with his last struggling breaths.
Clay’s eyes darkened, his head buzzing as he heard those guttural words leave Eberstark’s mouth. Especially the word whore—it was all Clay needed to hear to dissolve the small amount of control he had left. All was shot to shit. Clay released his Colt from the thigh holster and used the last .45 round to shoot Eberstark through the head.
A shrill cry from Andie woke Clay from his murderous trance, and he turned to see her staring in horror from behind him in the doorway. He holstered his weapon and moved toward her with bloodied hands up to show her that he was all right.
“Shh, baby, I’m okay. He’s dead and will never hurt you again.”
However, there was one more wolf at the door to contend with—Tivoli.
Chapter 28
Andie’s body ached, not so much from her injuries, but more from the stress that was punishing her mind. Clay had almost lost his life, and he did it for her—he’d promised her that he would keep her safe, and he did. He came back for her after being half dead and trapped—he did it all for her.
Silently, she reached for his face and cupped his solid jaw. She moved toward his face and kissed his chapped lips gently, but passionately. He pulled her in close and returned the kiss with more fervency than she expected. His wonderful, slick tongue parted her lips, pleading to penetrate her. With his warm touch, she felt the anxiety melting away. But she knew they were still in danger. How much more punishment could his strained and battered body take to protect her? She needed to end this before she lost him forever.
He pulled away and touched her bruised and swollen lips with his thumb. “Damn, baby, did that kiss hurt you? I’m so sorry.” He examined the red welts on her lips and cheek where Eberstark had brutalized her with his heavy hand. A flame of red rage sparked within his eyes, and he turned and looked at Eberstark’s lifeless body impaled on Murdoch’s spiked head. “I swear I would shoot that fucker again if I had another round.” Clay blew out a sigh through pursed lips. “Oh, Christ, Andie, watching him hurt you was the worst pain I’ve ever endured.” His fists were clenched, and Andie watched as blood trickled down his arms from the gashes he’d received where Eberstark had cut him. She ran into the kitchen area and searched for a towel or a first-aid kit. She found two small dishtowels and returned to Clay’s side to try to stop the bleeding.
“Hey, no worries, angel. I’ve bled a helluva lot worse than this. Besides, the cavalry is here.” He pointed upward and touched her lips to silence her questions. “Shh, listen.”
Within several seconds she heard the distinct clipping sound of a helicopter’s rotors.
“But how did you know that?” Andie asked. “Who’s coming?”
He smirked and then sweetly kissed her cheek. He spoke close to her ear so she could hear his voice over the engine roar of the oncoming helicopter. “Darlin’, I have a permanent GPS tracker sewed into my ass. I’m a valuable piece of machinery when it comes to Uncle Sam. And since I haven’t checked in with Paul like I promised to do several hours ago, I figured it was just a matter of time before he found us. You’re safe now.”
Andie was relieved, but she knew she would soon have to answer hard questions for an FBI interrogator. The giant knot was back in her stomach as she realized Clay was still on duty. Although he had declared his love for her, she was still troubled about his loyalties. Her thoughts were interrupted as a team of FBI agents in full tactical gear entered the cabin, crashing through the door. Their threatening appearance sent Andie close to Clay, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her with the protectiveness of a mother grizzly bear.
She heard the lead agent shout, “Clear!” Then a tall, slender man dressed in fitted blue jeans and a navy blue blazer entered the cabin with a confident stroll. He was attractive, and maybe a little older than Clay. His thick, dirty blond hair was cut short, but with full waves and curls that reminded Andie more of an Adonis sculpture than of a special agent for the FBI. But then again, Clay didn’t exactly fit the description of an ICE agent—not with his upscale salon haircut and his Hollywood facial scruff.
“Well, well, well. Shit, Clay-man! You are a royal pain in my ass.” Andie noticed a smooth Texas accent purring at Clay.
“Really, Paul? You’re gonna give me shit over this? Nah, I don’t think so. Not after the fucking day I’m having,” Clay said with lighthearted annoyance. Andie could tell he was more relieved than irritated to see Paul Krause, and any amount of ridicule Paul could dish out wasn’t going to fluster Clay.
“Well, is this our girl?” The tall Texan extended his hand for a proper greeting and flashed a wide, dynamite grin. “Andrea Brown, I presume? It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m Special Agent Paul Krause with the New York office of the FBI. It looks like you’ve been dragged through hell here with Agent Clayton, and I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all of this. Clay is a tough son of a gun, and I’m sure he acted completely professionally with your safety and your personal space.” Paul squinted at Clay to let him know that he had suspicions that Clay had bedded Andie.
“Miss Brown was treated properly and professionally at all times,” Clay interjected in a faintly antagonistic tone. “What she really needs is a medic to look at her. Did you happen to bring one of those with you in your fancy helicopter?”
“Uh-huh. Yeah, I’m sure you were real proper gentleman, Clay. And yes, I did bring a medic. Actually, where in Sam Hill is that fool, anyway?”
Just as Paul finished his question, a young man entered the cabin wearing a blue FBI jumpsuit and carrying a medic kit. Paul pointed a finger at Andie and Clay. “Make sure they get the best treatment you can give, or it’s your ass, rookie.”
Clay walked Andie to the sofa and sat her down so the young medic could do his examination. “Please, Andie, let him look you over. I’m worried about those contusions around your mouth and cheek.”
Andie didn’t say anything and let the medic begin his exam. She was still in denial that this day was happening. How many emotions could one woman experience in a matter of seventy-two hours? She was truly exhausted.
“Hey, are you okay? You’re not saying too much, and I’m worried about you.” Clay pushed his hand toward the medic to hold him off until Andie answered.
“Umm, yeah. I’m fine. Just foggy, and amazed that you are acting like all of this is a normal daily occurrence for you. I just saw you get your head bashed in with the stock of a rifle and then fight and kill Luca Eberstark like a gladiator at the Coliseum. Now you’re acting like you’re ready to start working on your investigation ... and I don’t even know where to begin with how you escaped Claudius’s cave.”
“You’re upset with me?” Clay stared at Andie with troubled eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “I guess this is how I do it. I can turn it on and off, Andie. It’s how I was trained. Why? How should I be acting?”
“Clay, I’m not upset with you, I’m worried! It should be you sitting here getting your head examined ... literally. Look at you! You’re a damn bleeding mess! A hot mess, but still ...”
He smiled and kissed her tenderly on her cheek. “Christ, I do love you. No one has ever worried about me before like you, my sweet girl. I’ll get my head examined, don’t worry.”
“Ha! Yep, and all they’ll find in there are a few bats flying around.” Evidently, Paul was listening in on their private conversation and felt he had to interject with his banter. “Hey, by the way, Clay. Do you mind tellin’ me what killed this shithead? Was it the impalement or the .45 to the ol’
noggin?” Paul shook his head and squinted, examining Eberstark’s gunshot wound. “Shit! You know what? I don’t even want to know. Just pick one and put it in your report. I’m getting outta here. I don’t appreciate blood on my favorite pair of boots, and neither does the armadillo that gave his life for my keen fashion sense. I’ll be outside in the chopper, and when you’re done getting your booboos looked at, I need to speak with you—privately.” Paul nodded at Clay and then gave Andie a tender smile before walking out the door.
The FBI team was still taking pictures of every angle of the cabin. Andie couldn’t bear to look into the bedroom at the mangled body of Luca Eberstark. Those sharpened elk antlers protruding from his lifeless chest were downright horrifying. Just last night, in that same room, she had experienced the sweetest, most erotic pleasure of her life—and now it was a crime scene with the smell of death filling the room. She needed to get out of here, and quickly.
The medic finished examining her bumps and bruises and gave her the all clear. Now it was Clay’s turn to get stitched up.
She noticed the Atros Fallis still sitting on the table where Eberstark had left it. Surely, the agents would take it sooner or later for evidence against Tivoli and Ospina. But Andie was troubled by the thought of the Atros Fallis sitting in an evidence locker where anyone with a badge and a taste for a lucrative payoff could have access to it. She had firsthand knowledge of Tivoli’s money buying police and judges—so what would make the FBI so different? She didn’t know Paul. And even though Clay seemed to trust this man like a brother, she wasn’t going to take any chances. Not until Tivoli and Ospina were put away for the rest of their miserable lives.
She moved quietly to the small table and unzipped her ski jacket. She picked up the Atros Fallis off the table and felt its weight in her hands. The cool, copper plates felt like ice to her touch, and she swore she felt an energy pass through her skin as her fingers touched the raised ouroboros on the cover plate. She zipped it into her jacket and told Clay she was getting some air. She quickly walked out the door and down the narrow path to the firewood pile on the side of the cabin.
