Iris Johansen - Dark Summer

Okay, time to make a move. Lincoln had ended the call and was dialing another number. Marrok. She knew what that call would be about. He would tell Marrok he had Devon and Bridget's part in it. Probably not much more. It would only be a teaser, with the hook coming later.

She needed to get to the winery. Lincoln's last call hadn't really surprised her, but it meant everything was escalated. She had to-

No!

Devon bleeding, her eyes glazing over .

Devon falling .

Bridget buried her face in her arms as chill after chill shook her body.

"No," she whimpered. "No. No."

Pull yourself together. It's not as if it hasn't happened before.

But the picture had never been as clear, the details so precise.

Was that because it was Bridget's fault that Devon would die?

She wanted to throw up.

She drew a deep, shaky breath and forced herself to straighten. She'd call Jordan and talk to him. She needed him.

She stopped as she reached for her phone.

No, there was nothing that Jordan could do, and if he sensed she was panicking, he might tell her to drop everything and come back to him. He had done it before.

Not this time, Jordan. I have to work it out for myself.

Maybe it wasn't going to happen yet. Block out that picture of Devon, falling, dying. Ignore the cold that was beginning to freeze her blood.

She began to struggle to her feet, then stopped, her gaze on the house.

A tan car was parked before the front door, and a tall, powerfully built man was getting out of the driver's seat.

"WAKE UP, bitch."

Stinging pain as a hand cracked against Devon's left cheek. Her lids flew open.

"That's it," Lester said. "I want you wide-awake and feeling everything I do to you." He slapped her again. "Whore."

"May I suggest if you continue in that vein that you'll knock her unconscious again, and she won't feel anything." Lincoln was standing in the doorway. "I don't mean to interfere, but I've been taught to-"

"Lester?" Devon scrambled to sit up and lifted her hand to her head as it swam dizzily.

Chad Lincoln… Lester. It had to be a nightmare.

No, Lester was too real, standing before her with eyes shining and his lips curved with malicious plea sure. She had seen him like that too many times through the years.

"Don't hurry. Give her a chance to get her breath, Enright," Lincoln said. "She's not going anywhere."

"Shut up. This is my business."

"True." His glance shifted to Devon. "I really wouldn't argue with anything he wants to do with you. He appears to be very angry."

Lester was always angry, always brutal. "What's he-doing here?"

"Danner sent him. It seems he was dealing with both of us to get what he wanted. When I came through with the prize, he called a few hours ago and told me he was sending Enright down to get you to cooperate in persuading Marrok to step into the trap. He doesn't think trading you for the dogs is too good a bet. He wants Marrok, and he believes Marrok is impulsive enough to come after you."

Keep talking. Her head was clearing now, and she had to gain strength before she could face Lester. "You're double-crossing Bridget. She thinks you want the dogs for yourself."

"Oh, I do. But I don't have the money and power that Danner does. I can be satisfied with a partnership." He smiled at Enright. "And I understand Danner is paying you a pretty penny, too. Something about Nigeria?"

Lester had never taken his gaze from Devon's face. "Get out, Lincoln."

Lincoln straightened. "It seems I'm de trop . Though I really think I could do the job better. You have little finesse, Enright." He glanced at Devon. "Give in. Tell him you'll do what Danner wants, and you may survive." He was closing the door. "But then again, you may not."

"You'll survive." Lester took a step closer to her. "You'll survive for a long, long time. I've got it all planned." He jerked open her shirt, and his big hand encircled her left breast. "Danner understands whores like you."

"Danner doesn't even know me." Don't move. Her strength was beginning to return, and she had to have that strength. "You don't know me."

"I know how weak you are." His hand clenched on her breast with agonizing force, and his face lit up as he saw her arch in pain. "I know how afraid you are of me."

"I was afraid of you." She was panting as she fought through the waves of agony. Not yet. "I was only seventeen, and it's easy to scare a kid. But I got over it."

"No, you didn't. I made you run."

"Not because I was afraid you'd hurt me again. I wasn't afraid for myself."

"Look at you," he said softly. "You're hurting so bad you want to scream."

"Yes." It was almost time. Her head was clear, and strength was flowing back to her. Just endure it for a little longer. "Did I tell you that the first thing I did when I started to run was to learn how to protect myself from you? There are all kinds of ways to handle bullies. I was never going to have to face this kind of punishment again."

His lip curled. "But you are, aren't you? And I'm going to hurt you until you call that half-breed and tell him what I'm doing to you. Then I may stop for a while."

"I'm not calling Marrok." She stared him in the eye. "And I'm done with talking to you."

"The hell you're-"

He screamed as she jabbed her two forefingers into his eyes. His hand loosened, and she rolled away from him and off the bed.

"Bitch!" He was flailing wildly, trying to see her. "I'll kill you."

She grabbed the bedside lamp and jerked the cord out of the socket. "No, you won't." She swung the lamp like a mace and it connected with the side of his face. "No more killing, no more pain, no more running."

He staggered back but then kept coming.

She jumped back and did a round kick. Her foot connected with his chin. He grunted but kept coming.

God, he should be down. It had to be pure fury that was keeping him on his feet.

She took two steps to the side and the edge of her hand lifted to come down on the side of his neck.

He countered, grabbing her wrist.

She kneed him between his legs. Then smashed her palm under his nose and up, breaking the bones.

His eyes glazed over, and his knees buckled. He fell to the floor.

She backed away, her breath coming short and hard. Lester was crumpled over, and she couldn't see his face. But he should have been-

"Is he dead?" The door was open, and Lincoln stood in the doorway, a gun in his hand. "I was anticipating screams, but the only scream I heard was from Enright." He was gazing at Lester without expression. "I didn't expect this at all. You always seemed to be such a gentle soul."

"Gentle doesn't necessarily mean helpless." How could she get that gun away from Lincoln?

"No, I'd say that's true." He moved toward Lester. "I repeat, is he dead?"

"I don't know. He should be. The bones of his nose should have shattered and entered his brain. That's what's supposed to happen."

"I know. But I take it that it's only textbook theory for you."

"Of course it is. I'm not a professional killer like you. He could still be alive. I struck him at an awkward angle."

"Well, let's take a look." He knelt beside Enright. "Now how can I check him and still keep my gun handy to deal with you? You're clearly a force to be reckoned with. Oh, I know." He pressed the gun to Lester's heart and pressed the trigger. "Yes, he's definitely dead."

She was staring at him, shocked. "Why did-"

"Danner's orders." Lincoln rose to his feet. "The way he put it was that it's always wise to have more than one arrow to a bow. But when one arrow can do the job, then you should break the other and throw it away. It's much cheaper that way. Evidently Danner decided I was the more efficient arrow."