Circle of Danger (18 page)

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Jack waving her back, but her overpowering need to breathe fresh air dominated her common sense. At last, she surfaced at an angle but they were too close to the island.

At first, she didn't realize they were firing at her. The splats near her were nothing like what she imagined bullets hitting water would sound like. And the crack of gunfire followed a split second afterward. So disconcerting when the sequence should be the opposite, but the distance and water played with the sound waves.

She gestured to the men surfacing around her to dive again. But it was too late. One grunted and went under. Blood in the water with at least one shark nearby was asking for more.

“Marie!” Jack pushed her away from the growing pool of blood.

In seconds, they heard motors starting up. They were coming for them.

“I'm sorry. This is all my fault.” She jerked her arm out of his grip. “Go. I'll tell them it was me and just those who were shot. Go!”

He looked at her and then at the boats coming nearer, the bows slapping the waves as they came at them from an angle so as not to be turned over by the swells.

“Hang in there. I'll come after you and Ryker,” Jack said, and then he dove beneath the next wave.

Too many of The Circle's men had died. The horror of those first few minutes she'd live over and over again. They dragged her—protesting, screaming, crying—into the boat. Two other operatives pulled from the water were not as lucky. When they reached the shore, they tossed one operative's body onto the sand. Mulcahy's men wouldn't let her stop his bleeding. The other one they beat to a bloody pulp before dragging him off.

They threw her into a room empty of furniture. The only light came from a bug-coated bulb set behind a grill in the ceiling. Shivering, she sat in the corner, her back to the wall as she faced the door. She still felt them pulling at her wetsuit, the echo of laughter surrounding her as she'd fought strange hands trying to strip off her black bikini. Someone had gruffly ordered them to stop before they closed the door.

Her eyes refused to focus. Was she going into shock? Rocking back and forth helped warm her chilled skin. She chafed her arms and pulled her knees to her chest.

Was Ryker still alive? Had Jack and the other operatives made it to shore? No matter how she tried to comfort herself, she knew the truth. Her stubbornness and silliness in not listening to Jack had killed at least two of The Circle's operatives. It was left to her to save Ryker.

Mulcahy. It had been his voice she'd heard. His interest in her might be the key to helping Ryker. Time for her to take matters into her own hands and be the operative she'd dreamed of being.

By the time the door opened, her tears had dried and she knew what had to be done.

 

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
O
NE

M
arie clutched the white material to her breasts. Mulcahy stood in the doorway examining her as if he owned her.

“The white suits you. Turn, let me see how it looks in the back.” He crossed his arms and waited for her to comply.

Inside she wanted to scream and knee him in the groin. But she had a role to play that had begun when Mulcahy entered her cell.

The day before, she'd lied, claiming Jack had forced her to attack the island. Like many men, he allowed his cock to control his brain and believe that because of her small size, she was harmless. And luckily, he'd fallen for it.

So here she was dressed up in a Roman tunic, about to play a part in tricking him to drop his guard even further. In the meanwhile, she'd search for where they locked up Ryker. Once she found him, the next step was to find a way for them to escape.

Hopefully, Jack had made it alive to another part of the island or back to the boat with the remaining operatives. Staying positive was her only option.

“Yes. You have a beautiful back. The long scars make it most interesting. So your newest scar will blend in with the rest. We mustn't have anyone tracking you down.” His finger traced the two stitches where her locator had been removed.

She fought the need to step away. Her stomach roiled, hating his touch.

The door opened behind them and drew his attention, saving her from throwing up on him.

“So how's the little whore doing?” Letitia entered the room in a swirl of white. Her tunic had been tailored and pulled tight to show off her acquired breasts and overly ripe hips. With her height, the folds flowed to her feet in seductive lengths. She eyed Marie with distaste. “You say that Ryker taps that? She's so tiny, everywhere. He's so big; I don't see how he could fit it in her.” Her nose wrinkled and upper lip curled. “Are you sure he doesn't close his eyes and imagine her as a young boy? He may have acquired the taste from Theo. Of course, the psycho loved them young.”

The tall woman turned to Marie. “Does he bend you over and fuck you from behind, little girl?”

“Enough! It only bothers you because Ryker wouldn't take you up on your offer, even when he was drugged,” Mulcahy said in an ugly tone.

Any satisfaction Marie received from knowing Ryker had turned the huge woman down was colored by hearing they had shot him up with Blossom Flower too.

“Is he still alive?” She hoped she sounded as if she wanted to know out of normal curiosity.

Mulcahy opened his mouth but Letitia answered. “I guess you could call it that.”

She wanted to know what the woman meant, but knew another direct question would be pushing it. So she said, “I thought the drug was made only for women. Doesn't it make men too violent?”

When Mulcahy tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he studied her, she waited for the accusations. She needed him to remain convinced she didn't care for Ryker.

Letitia shook her head. “That's true but we—”

With a sharp cut of his hand, Mulcahy shut up the woman. “Why are you so interested?”

“One of her disciples shot me up with the stuff, and I know how it affected me. So why shouldn't I be interested in hearing that men have an equal opportunity to know how women feel with the drug in their system?” She stared back and lifted her brows. Inside, she wanted to scream curses at the two crazies standing in front of her.

He chuckled. “Disciples, huh? I do believe she's calling you a devil. You do love to wear red, and those long nails of yours can go deep. Yeah. I think it fits.”

Letitia glowered and stomped a foot. “I've had enough. If you get her, I get Ryker.”

Hot rage washed over Marie. She wanted to show the insane woman what she'd learned from Charlie and Jack the last few weeks. Her hands clutched the tunic material, and she stepped toward the woman. A noise at the door saved her from ruining her plans.

“We have activity near the docks.” Ice's cold, black eyes skimmed over her and returned to Mulcahy.

“Then handle it as I instructed. Obviously, the scenario is being played as I expected. I'm busy here.” Mulcahy turned to Letitia. “Go on and get the show started. Marie and I will be along directly.”

“Fine. I believe tonight I get the right to have a little fun with the winner. And we know who that will be, don't we?” With that cryptic remark, Letitia shot her a nasty look and glided out of the room.

Ice closed the door, leaving Marie alone with Mulcahy.

“Winner?” She suspected they were talking about Ryker, but winner of what?

“Ignore Letitia. She's only trying to get under your skin. I had them set up a table so we can dine and watch the games.” He clutched her arm, holding tight enough for her to stay next to him, but not to hurt. “Have I told you yet how lovely you look?”

Ignoring him, she said, “You know, I haven't eaten all day and I'm starving.” She wanted a crowd of people around her, especially with the hungry way Mulcahy undressed her with his eyes.

“Letitia told me how skinny you used to be when you belonged to Theo. I like you better this way: curves in the right places, your breasts perfect for my palms.”

She tensed, expecting him to prove his point.

He merely grinned. Then he nodded. “Let's go.” In a showy flourish, he opened the door, bowed, and waved her through the doorway.

Bunching the material into one hand, she held it away from her feet. The last thing she wanted was to trip and give him an excuse to touch her. He led her down a beautiful sweeping marble staircase and then around a sharp turn to a dimly lit stairwell.

What was it with these people and basements? Since her time in one with the creep in Chattanooga, and the cold, sterile one near Cartersville, she'd rather stay out of them. She frowned and glanced at her feet. A strange sensation tingled along the soles. Nothing similar to Blossom Flower's flashbacks. Once they reached a well-lit corridor with twin large metal doors at the end, the vibration beneath her feet became stronger. Then she heard what sounded like an engine with pistons thumping. Just as Mulcahy pressed the thick bar on one door, she realized the sound wasn't mechanical, but hundreds of people stomping their feet in sync and chanting a name.

“Ryker! Ryker! Ryker!”

T
he rhythm from the excited crowd pulsated through Ryker's cock. Always for the first two hours after the shot, he sported a painful erection. If not for the wrapping protecting his cock and the other contestants being in the same condition, the liability would've gotten him killed before now.

How many days had it been? No watch or clocks, never seeing the sun, he had no way of knowing how long he'd truly been in this hellhole. He guessed four days, maybe more. Only the shots he now craved and the fights measured his time.

“Your turn again,” said a deep voice from the shadows.

The door swung open, and he stepped into the arena. Blinking from the glare of the bright lights, he shaded his eye as a dark blur charged him. His opponent attacked with a right uppercut and then brought up a knee to the groin. He missed by fractions as Ryker instinctively twisted his hips and stuck a foot out, tripping the man.

Ryker rubbed his eye. Seconds mattered in who came out of this alive. Just as his vision cleared, the man jumped to his feet and threw a punch to Ryker's stomach.

The roaring and shouting from the balcony became no more than white noise as he straightened and stepped toward the man. The man's face paled seconds before Ryker struck. Fists and feet flew at a furious pace. The thud of flesh hitting flesh satisfied his need for a release even though he preferred another kind. The crowd screamed their approval as he landed solid hits and his opponent dropped to the sand in seconds.

M
arie, frozen to her seat, watched the violence below on the sand. She hadn't seen Ryker in over a week. He looked different. His hair was longer, face unshaven, and patch gone. With his eyes wide, one shining white, he looked crazed. Bruises marred his chin and arms. In fact, from what she could see, he suffered from several abrasions and contusions. Wearing only a dingy loincloth, his arms and chest glistened beneath the bright lights. She'd never before seen him so wild and out of control as he pummeled the man. Even when the man crashed to the ground, Ryker continued to hit him. She cringed inside as she struggled to keep her face unemotional. No way could she reveal to Mulcahy the horror she felt on seeing Ryker's violence.

His opponent kicked Ryker hard, sending him back several steps, allowing the man to reach his feet, swaying. Before he could manage another hit, Ryker attacked again with a kick of his own to the man's chest. A loud crunch warned the crowd Ryker had probably shattered the man's ribs. When the man didn't move, the crowd went crazy shouting Ryker's name, clapping as if he'd taken down a wild animal instead of another human being.

“How do you like Ryker's performance? Your old master has been dropping them like flies. That was the most hits I've seen someone get in before he killed them.” Mulcahy's cold eyes watched for her reaction.

Before she responded, a wire net shot from the ceiling and covered Ryker, pulling him to the ground. His bellow told of his frustration. Several men wearing soft armor and helmets rushed out and jumped on top of him. Like a feral animal, he continued to fight. They pressed him into the sand until one of them pulled out a hypodermic and pressed it into his hip. His body became limp.

Marie's fingers began to ache. She looked down. Her nails dug into the chair's leather arms. She forced her hands to drop into her lap and stopped their trembling by clasping them. How could this be happening? When would she wake from the nightmare? Every time she thought she'd seen the worst a human could inflict on another, a new perversion turned up.

She barely registered Ice as he stepped onto the balcony and whispered into Mulcahy's ear. The growing smirk on his face bothered Marie, but she had to concentrate on regaining control of her queasy stomach.

The roar of the crowd caught her attention and she looked into the arena. Two more men were fighting. The sickening hollow sound of flesh hitting flesh brought new acid churning in her stomach.

“What do you think of our little games? It's amazing how much people will pay to see one brute kill another. None of this virtual reality crap they can find on the Internet. Video games don't compare to the real thing, although we do make a killing on the Internet with videos of the fights.” Mulcahy covered her hands with one of his. “I see that you're bothered by the violence.” He leaned toward her, his excitement obvious on his face. She dared not look down to see how excited.

Every inch of her body shrunk from his touch. She wanted to jerk her hands away and run screaming from him. Relieved her flashbacks appeared to be in control, especially around the delusional man looking at her with such sick lust in his eyes, Marie stood, brushing his hands out of the way.

“You're right. I think I need to lie down.” The glint in his eyes rushed her to add, “Alone.” She needed a little time to find her way to wherever the fighters exited the arena.

“Sit,” he commanded. A different kind of interest flashed in those dark eyes. “We haven't eaten yet. Besides, I have a special surprise for you.”

What was he going to do to Ryker? Hadn't he suffered enough? He thought he was responsible for his parents' deaths. What would killing people with his bare hands do to him?

Her gaze skimmed the china and crystal laid out for them. With her stomach tossing around as if she stood on the bow of a deep sea vessel, warning her of what would happen if one bite passed her lips, she shook her head.

Afraid of what she was about to see, but too afraid to defy the mad man blocking her way, Marie dropped back into the chair, keeping her gaze on Mulcahy. “I don't like surprises.” She peeked over at Ice as he stood next to the doorway with his arms crossed, watching her with cold, emotionless eyes. Even if she found a way past Mulcahy, Ice would stop her.

“Oh, you'll like this one.” He nodded toward the arena. They were dragging off the winner of the most recent bout. “I told them to bring him straight to the arena.”

A door opened and a man stumbled, falling face-first into the sand.

Damn. They'd caught Jack too. All hope of saving Ryker and escaping disappeared, sucking the air out of the room with it. She forced her lungs to work again without emitting a sound, though inside she whimpered like a beaten puppy. What could she do? Was she up to saving herself and Ryker—and now Jack?

Even from a distance the bruises on his arms and back told her of how hard he'd fought his capture.

A huge man with greasy hair stalked across the arena. Jack's opponent made the mistake of allowing him to regain his footing.

Marie cringed as the familiar thumping of a fist hitting a naked torso resonated throughout the arena. She wanted to look away, yet she watched, hoping that by willing the fight to be quick and Jack successful, it would happen. Seconds later, it was over and they were dragging Jack out of the arena while leaving the other body to be hauled out.

Her muscles loosened and she sighed.

“You know, I've been thinking.”

Marie hated the way he paused. She refused to look at him. He would wait a long time if he expected her to prompt him. She was in no hurry to hear what horror he planned next.

“You don't want to play, uh?” Mulcahy grabbed her arm and lifted her to her feet. She blindly stared at the bloodstained sand. “I had planned to let Ryker and Jack fight each other. I've changed my mind after seeing them today. It would be too dangerous to have the two of them in the arena at the same time. The drug can make them unpredictable. A good thing someone offered to take one off my hands for a price. Otherwise, I would need to kill one of them. We must have only one alpha bull in the ring.”