Christine Feehan - Predatory Game

Saber placed the pads of her fingers very gently on his ankle even as her gaze met Patsy’s. I’m going to have to kill him right in front of her. There was anguish in Saber’s voice when she confessed to Jess. There was no choice.

Already Patsy’s gaze had widened, hope pushing through pain and terror as her mind grasped the possibility of rescue. Saber blocked out everything but John’s heartbeat. Finding it. Melding with it. Disrupting it. She didn’t have time for finesse. She had to take him out fast, introducing a massive heart attack.

A solid kick landed in her stomach as Greg attacked, rolling her over, sending her halfway across the room, as John went down, clutching his chest. She kept rolling, aware of Patsy’s desperate screams, of the man coming at her, rage on his face, swinging the belt at her body over and over. She felt the blows landing, but she didn’t flinch, rolling onto her back, gun in her hand, finger squeezing the trigger over and over, watching as holes blossomed in the body, a small circular pattern in the middle of his throat. If nothing else, she was accurate.

And then everything went black and red as violent energy, anger and pain and brutal death came at her, laying greedy hands on her, grabbing her by the throat and shutting down her airway even as ice picks slammed into her skull from every direction. She tasted blood in her mouth, felt it on her face, wiped it from her eyes. She was dead, but Patsy was safe. As long as there wasn’t another enemy close, Jess would come for his sister. The roaring in her head increased and she rolled over, writhing, her body beginning to convulse.

Breathe, Saber. Damn it, you fucking breathe. Jess’s voice filled her mind, a clear command from a man clearly used to obedience.

It would have been comical if she weren’t struggling for survival. If she could breathe, she’d be doing it. She fought for air, tried coming to her knees, but was driven back to the floor by the pain. She was losing consciousness. Maybe her life.

Jess was there, on the floor beside her, dragging her into his arms, pulling her head back and lifting her stomach. “Take a breath, Saber. One fucking breath, that’s all I’m asking for.”

The terrible crushing stone on her chest and head eased with Jess’s close proximity, but she couldn’t hear or see properly. There was real pain now, all through her body, her ribs, her back, even her face. Had the belt struck her a dozen times before she got a shot off? How many times had he kicked her? It felt as if she’d been run over by a truck.

Jess pushed her hair back as he laid her on the floor, careful to keep her body from the blood staining Patsy’s ivory carpet. He turned his head quickly to assure himself that Patsy wasn’t in any danger. She was fighting the tape, trying to get out of the chair, her horrified gaze on the blood dripping from Saber’s eyes and mouth.

“What’s wrong with her, Jess?”

“She’ll be all right.” He sent up a silent prayer that it was true. “Give me a minute and I’ll get you loose.” He breathed for Saber, trying to find a way to get air into her bursting lungs.

Saber stirred. Groaned. Her lashes fluttered. She gasped and spat blood. Rolling, she came to her knees, clutching her stomach. “Patsy?” She glanced at Jess’s sister, her vision blurry. Patsy’s color was off, her face pale, sweat beading on her forehead and mingling with the water that had been poured over her.

Jess steadied her. “Can you stand?”

The energy was gone, drawn away from her by Jess’s presence, but the aftermath was there, pounding in her head and strangling her lungs. She fought to take a breath, and then a second. More blood seeped from her nose. She wiped away the tracks on her face, spat again to clear her mouth.

“Saber?” Jess’s hands went to her hips, holding her as she staggered to her feet.

She had to hang on to his shoulder, cling to his chair in order to stay standing. “How many, Patsy?”

“Four. I saw at least four, but I thought there were more.”

“I only got three of them,” Saber said and wiped at her mouth. She’d never been so shaky. Killing with a gun wasn’t for her, certainly not this close to the victim and not in an enclosed space.

“Sit down, baby,” Jess said, his hands gentle as he pulled her onto his lap. “Just rest for a minute while I get Patsy free.”

“She said at least four, Jesse. I only got three.” She pushed the gun onto his lap. “I can’t use this, not again.”

Saber helped Jess cut through the duct tape holding Patsy to the chair. Every movement was painful, but she forced herself to keep going, pulling clothes from a drawer and helping Patsy to put on the soft sweatshirt to cover the terrible marks on her body.

“I can’t stop crying,” Patsy said, collapsing onto her brother’s lap. “I was so scared, Jess. They were going to kill me.” She flung her arms around his neck, sobbing, burying her face against his chest.

“I know, honey,” he said, trying to comfort her and watch the door at the same time. “We’ve got to make a run for it.” He caught Saber’s hand. “Can you do this? I need to know, Saber.”

She forced air into her burning lungs, her throat raw, the taste and smell of blood forever etched into her senses. She nodded. “I’m good. Let’s get Patsy out of here.”

She didn’t wait for his piercing gaze to assess her, afraid she’d collapse. Saber inched her way around the bodies, careful not to touch either of them. They were going to make a run for it. A man in a wheelchair, Saber unable to breathe properly, and Patsy tortured and traumatized. “I never realized what an optimist you are,” she muttered as she peeked around the corner. “We’re clear. Move fast.”

The elevator, which Saber hadn’t known existed, was to the left of the bedroom. It was small and hidden by the long columns that formed arches to frame the art pieces. With Patsy on his lap, Jess powered the chair with fast bursts of speed across the gallery floor while Saber guarded the stairs.

“No wonder you managed to get in so fast.”

“Patsy put in ramps for me at the back entrance because it was easier to maneuver and close to the elevator if I wanted to go up to the second floor.” His gaze met Saber’s over Patsy’s head. He was frowning. Patsy was rocking now, back and forth, making small keening sounds of distress. She looked gray, her skin cold and clammy. I think she’s going into shock.

Who could blame her? Those men were terrorizing her deliberately for information on you. She wouldn’t mind going into shock herself, as battered as she was. She was an assassin, and she’d killed, but not like this, not this brutal, ugly, messy death. She did it with style and no fanfare. Quiet and natural as if it were meant to happen. She even tried to lessen pain and fear for her targets.

Saber felt rather than heard movement. On the stairs, Jesse. Patsy has to be quiet. Get her into the elevator with you and I’ll distract them.

Fuck that. You’re coming with us.

She sent him one telling look. The elevator was going to make noise. No matter how modern, it wasn’t silent when running. The enemy would know and would be standing at the door, blasting away as it opened.

Damn it, Saber . But he was already using powerful strokes to propel the chair down the hall to the small cage. Saber inserted her body between Jess’s and the stairs. She no longer had the gun, but it didn’t matter. Her mind would never take another assault and survive. There had to be another way.

Two men leapt onto the gallery floor, rolling away from each other to take cover behind the massive columns. Before Saber could react, the paintings and sculptures began to shake, the floor undulating. She caught at the banister for support, glancing at Jess in alarm.