Iris Johansen - Deadlock

Emily watched him leave the hut. She had thought she was too numb, too calloused by Joel's agony, to be afraid, but she was wrong. Panic was rising within her.

God, let her get away from here. Or let her have the courage not to give Staunton the satisfaction of making her break under the pain.

A shot rang out from Joel's hut next door.

No!

She arched upward as if the bullet had struck her. 77/ tell Levy he won't have to suffer anymore. She should have guessed. Dear God, she should have known.

"IT'S TIME." STAUNTON P U L L E D her to her feet. "He's ready for you. Are you ready for him?" Emily didn't answer.

"I find I'm reluctant to turn you over to him. I've gotten quite pos¬sessive of you. I want even your pain to come from me." Staunton slipped her jacket on her. "Mustn't get cold. There's another blizzard starting." He whirled her to face him. "One more time. Where's Zelov's hammer?"

She shook her head.

"Oh, Emily, I did try." He lowered his head, and his lips brushed hers.

Her teeth bit down savagely on his lower lip.

"Son of a bitch!" His fist lashed out and knocked her to the floor. His lip was torn and bleeding. "You little savage. You'll pay for that."

"At least it will be me who pays, not Joel," she said fiercely. "And it was worth it."

"I'll make very sure it won't be worth it." He jerked her to her feet and pushed her toward the door. "I wish I could start now, but you have an appointment to keep."

The snow was stinging her face, and she couldn't see more than a foot in front of her as Staunton pulled her away from the hut toward the bandit encampment a short distance away.

He pulled up the flap of a tent whose rear was sheltered from the storm by huge rocks. "Here she is, Shafir." He pushed her into the tent. "Don't kill her. Anything else is permissible." He touched his lip. "Even desirable."

"She stung you?" The bandit smiled as he rose to his feet. Shafir Ali was huge, with a full black beard and bushy eyebrows. "I thought better of you, Staunton. I'll have to teach you how to make her be¬have. By morning she'll be ready to kiss your feet."

"That would be amusing. I look forward to it." He turned away. "Get to work on her." He pulled the flap closed as he left the tent.

"He's angry with you," Shafir said. "I can understand. Women should not be allowed out of control. If you were mine, I'd keep you naked and chained until you learned submission. Perhaps if I do a good job tonight, he'll let me have you for a while." He started toward her. "Come on, bite me, hit me. I'll show you how a man should treat a whore who doesn't know her place." He put his hands on her shoul¬ders. "Are you afraid of me? You should be."

He stank of sweat and leather, and his grip on her shoulders was excruciating.

Ignore it. Fight him. Try to get away. This might be her last hope. Once Staunton came for her in the morning, her chances of escaping would be nonexistent.

"Tell me you want it," he said. "Tell me you want me to fuck you." When she didn't speak, his grip tightened. "Beg me."

Her knee swung up and connected with his balls. As he grunted with pain, she tore away from him and ran toward the tent entrance. He caught her before she reached it and backhanded her. She fell to the hard dirt that formed the floor of the tent. He hit her again.

Her head was ringing as he flipped her over and she was barely able to see him through the haze of pain.

"You run from me?" He took his knife out of the holster at his waist. "I'll just have to make sure you can't do that again." He plunged the knife into the side of her left calf.

She screamed as the pain tore through her.

"That's right," he said as he pulled the knife out and stabbed it into the earth next to them, burying the point in the dirt. "Staunton will like to hear you scream. I'll just keep this handy in case I want to prick you again." He tore open her jacket and jerked open her shirt. "Maybe your breasts…" He bent his head, his face flushed. "You bit Staunton until he bled. Do you think he'd be pleased if I bit this pretty nipple and made you bleed?'

The knife he'd buried in the earth was within her reach.

Wait. He was liking this, wanting to hurt her. Pretend to be help¬less and in pain. Distract him.

Pain seared her nipple as his teeth sank savagely into it. The moan she gave was no pretense.

He lifted his head and licked the blood off her breast. His eyes were glazed with pleasure. "Now the other one."

His teeth bit deep.

She cried out. She arched upward.

And her hand closed on the hilt of the knife. She plunged it into his side.

He made a sound like a wounded bull as his head jerked up. She pushed away from him and scrambled to her knees. Get out of the tent. Get away from him.

But the knife thrust hadn't stopped him. He was moving, rising to his knees, reaching for the AK-47 leaning against the wall of the tent. "Bitch. I'll fill you full of-"

His head snapped back as an arm encircled his neck from behind. With one twist, the man who had seized him broke his neck.

Emily stared, unable to move, stunned. It had happened too fast. She couldn't take it in. She hadn't seen the man until the mo¬ment he had killed. High cheekbones, tight lips, an expression beyond intensity. Dark clothes, dark hair, dark eyes glittering in the lantern light.

Angel of Death.

"Grab the AK-47 and any ammunition you can find." The stanger dragged the huge bulk of Shafir Ali's body toward the pallet and dropped a blanket over it. "I'll be back for you in a minute."

"Wait. Who are you?"

"John Garrett. The CIA sent me to get you and Levy out." Freedom for her but not for Joel. "You're too late. Joel is dead," she said dully.

"I found that out when I got here and made contact today." He moved toward the back of the tent and started to slip through the slit he'd made in the fabric. "Fasten up your clothes and get that gun."

She hurriedly fastened her shirt and jacket and stood up. She al¬most fell as agony shot through her calf. She'd been so stunned she'd forgotten the wound. She wouldn't forget it again. It was throbbing with pain. She rolled up her pants. Ugly but not much blood. His knife had gone through the fatty part of her calf. She had no time to bandage it now. She limped across the tent and grabbed the AK-47. There was ammunition in the chest beside the pallet. She grabbed that, too.

"We can go now." Garrett had returned. He was wearing a back¬pack and carrying a rifle. "Good, you're wearing boots. That will help." He reached into his pocket and pulled out gloves and a wool hat. "Put these on. Be sure to keep the hat on. Heat escapes through your head."

"I know that." She pulled the hat down over her ears. "I practically grew up in the woods."

"Good. But the woods aren't as wild as this terrain. We'll climb over the rocks behind the tent and take the path that leads to the ledge that borders the mountain."

She put on the gloves. "There's a blizzard. Do you have transport?"

"Not anywhere close. If I'd had transport, I wouldn't have been able to get near this place. They would have known it, and you would have been taken away. Let's go."

She started toward him and stopped. "I have to do something first." He frowned impatiently. "What?"

She lifted her shaking hand to her head. It was hard to think. "There's a man. Staunton. I have to kill him."

"I'm sure you have reason, but there's no time. Let's go."

"You don't understand. He can't be allowed to live. I have to kill him."

He swore. "I'm not going to risk my neck and yours because you want revenge. Get it later."

"There's a blizzard. He thinks I'm being raped and tortured by that scum. He wouldn't expect it. If I don't do it now, he may get away."