The Pleasures of Spring (14 page)

‘Listen up, you miserable bunch of people.’ Frankie’s clipped tones were audible across the sea of men and women waiting for direction. ‘This is one of the most crucial scenes in the movie and I want to see your best work. Let me have your meanest fighting skills. I want to see your swords slash, your spears find their target and you dying in agony. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, sir,’ a few actors at the front of the crowd mumbled.

‘I said, do I make myself clear?’ Frankie roared like a drill sergeant.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Okay then, take your positions and good luck.’

The crowd dispersed and Andy was left with a handful of fighters who were doing close-up work.

‘You five are needed for a scene on the battlements. Andy, you’re with me.’

‘Fuck,’ Andy muttered beneath his breath. Maybe he’d been wrong about their relationship after all.

The older man gave him a considered look. ‘You won’t be needing the chain mail this morning. I’ve got something else planned for you.’

Whatever Frankie had planned wasn’t going to be pleasant.

‘This way.’ Frankie turned and headed for the set
where the carpenters had reconstructed a native settlement. The story called for the village to be overrun by invaders after some fierce hand-to-hand fighting. It would be one of the bloodiest scenes in the movie, with lots of scope for ‘accidental’ injuries.

Frankie was a clever bastard. Andy had underestimated him and hoped that he would be a match for him.

The director was already in place. ‘Okay, I want some nice peaceful footage before the invasion starts.’

With a grin that could only be described as diabolical, Frankie thrust a woollen tunic at him. ‘You’re peasant number four and today you’ll be fighting for your life, and your wife.’

Wife? Andy didn’t need a map to see where this was going. He pulled the woollen robe over his head and turned to meet his new bride.

They had done something to her hair to make it more red and vibrant. Despite the shapeless clothing, Roz was as beautiful as the day he had first seen her in Paris, and almost as sullen.

‘Okay, I want you both in bed for this scene. It’s a dawn raid. You hear screams and you reach for your weapon. This is the woman you love and you’ll do anything to protect her. Understand?’

Andy nodded at the director. Beside him, Roz was as stiff and taut as a bowstring. He hoped she wasn’t armed.

Andy sat down on the fur covered pallet and pulled off his boots. Beside him, Roz shrugged out of her cloak and lay stiffly beside him, wearing nothing but a dingy shift that concealed her curves.

‘Okay, we need some affection,’ the director roared.

Andy lay down and pulled her into his arms. She tucked her head beneath his chin and her small hand splayed across his chest.

‘I will kill Frankie for this,’ she muttered into his tunic.

Andy bit back a smile and kissed the top of her head.

‘Great, guys. Now eyes closed. You’re sleeping, remember?’

The lights on the set were dimmed and the fire light flickered in the silence. ‘I’m sorry for whatever I did wrong.’ He murmured against her hair.

Roz said nothing, but he swore her body softened a fraction. Andy tightened his arms around her and something hard pressed into his side. Roz had ignored the ‘no phones on set’ rule.

He shifted a fraction and settled down again. This was how they should have spent the previous night. Not sleeping alone.

‘And action.’

Outside, a woman screamed and children began to cry.

As the wooden door was kicked in and a Viking invader entered, Andy went into battle mode. He shoved Roz off the pallet for protection and reached for the nearest available weapon. The wooden staff was no match for a Viking blade, but he jabbed upwards and managed to send his opponent’s shield flying.

Andy scrambled on the floor and grabbed it. In his hands, a shield was a weapon. He parried the next sword thrust and sidestepped the following one. Roz screamed as a second invader entered the hut. Two armed warriors against a helpless native. He was definitely going down.

The men fought with relish. They were two of the best
fighters that Frankie had trained. Andy wished that he could have given them a better battle, but he was under orders to fight and die.

Crouched in the corner behind the bed pallet, Roz screamed again as she watched the brutal slaughter. She had a fine pair of lungs, Andy noticed, and couldn’t help remembering the noises she had made the previous night in bed with him. ‘And cut. That was great.’

The lights went up again and the invaders and crew departed to wreak havoc elsewhere. Andy and Roz were left alone.

Andy helped her to her feet and searched the upturned bed for her tunic.

‘Thanks,’ she murmured but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

‘About last night…’

The door burst open again and Andy turned quickly. The new invader surveyed the makeshift room before focusing his attention on Roz. What was the guy playing at? Didn’t he know the scene was finished?

‘The director wants you.’ The stranger’s voice was muffled behind the helmet, but Andy caught a hint of an American accent. His blood froze in his veins. He hadn’t heard that voice for a year, but he recognized it immediately.

‘Coming,’ Roz said as she picked up her cloak, oblivious to the danger.

‘Which director wants her?’ Andy asked as he moved towards the abandoned shield. It wasn’t much, but better than nothing and he needed everything he could get his hands on if he was going up against Darren Hall.

When a former Navy SEAL turned bad, virtually nothing would stop him. And Hall was one of the worst excuses for a man that Andy had ever met. If he got his hands on Roz, he would murder her, the same way he had butchered that poor antique dealer in Paris. There was no way that was happening.

The only way Roz was leaving with that scumbag was over his dead body. Andy picked up the shield and smashed it into the invader’s face.

Roz screamed as the American staggered on his feet and then righted himself. He kicked Andy.

Christ. That blow would have felled an elephant. Andy pushed the rough wooden table into the man’s path and searched the room for something he could use as a weapon. His eyes fell on the torch. One of the crew should have returned to extinguish it.

Andy wondered if he had run into Hall. Poor bastard.

He needed to get Roz to safety as quickly as possible. From her dazed expression, she had finally realized that this wasn’t another mock fight. Or maybe she had recognized Hall?

Andy swung the blazing torch in a wide arc and Hall stepped back. ‘Roz, get the fuck out of here and find Frankie. Tell him to take you to Niall.’

Reilly had come back with an interim report on Fletcher. He had been involved in a few schemes which could have been considered dubious, but he had never spent time in prison. The guy had been a sapper for ten years and that was good enough for him. Frankie would protect Roz. He would bet his life on it.

‘I’m not leaving you.’

He cursed as Hall lunged again, almost knocking the torch from his grasp. Andy recovered and jabbed at the man’s face. This was no time for fighting fair. He had to get the stubborn woman out of here.

Hall gave a muffled roar and backed away, crashing into the flimsy partition wall which crashed under his weight. Dropping the torch, Andy grabbed Roz by the arm and pulled her to the door. They had seconds to make their escape.

They had barely made it outside when Hall appeared again. Holy fuck. This guy was worse than the Terminator.

Hall’s first punch sent Andy reeling. He staggered and then righted himself.

‘Is that the best you’ve got?’ he taunted, anything to get Hall’s attention away from Roz.

‘Oh, I think you’ll enjoy this more,’ Hall sneered as he reached into his pocket and drew out a Beretta M9.

The single round was startling in the silence of the forest. Andy heard a shocked cry and Roz dropped to the ground. Disbelief fought with shock and he moved automatically to help her.

Roz had been shot.

Roz was aware of pain all over. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. She was one searing mass of unending agony.

Her last memory was seeing the gun aimed at her, hearing the shot and feeling the shock of the bullet hitting her.

I’m dead. This is what it’s like being dead. I didn’t think it would hurt so much
.

She was about to find out who was right. Would there be heaven and hell, or nothing? Would her life, such a mixture of good and bad and who-knows, send her up or down? She had time to regret all the things she’d done wrong, and all the things she hadn’t done. To her surprise, Andy McTavish was on the top of her list of things she hadn’t done.

Where was the white light? It should be here by now. She forced her eyes open, looking for the light, and saw a cloudy sky above her. There were clouds in the afterlife? How disappointing.

She blinked and her eyes watered. Was she dead? Why wasn’t she breathing? She had been shot.

With a jolt of pain, her lungs heaved and she pulled in a desperate gasp of air. God, the agony of the moment was proof she wasn’t dead.

She managed to turn her head and saw Andy and Hall on the ground, struggling. Hall was on top, forcing Andy’s head back at a dangerous angle.

She tried to yell, and no sound came out. Her starved lungs refused to work, refused to make a sound.

Roz ignored the screaming of her ribs as she forced herself to her feet. She had to help Andy. The dizziness and weakness that washed over her made her realize she wasn’t going to be any use.

Phone. She could call for help. She reached into her pocket and fumbled out her phone. It was cracked and distorted, with the back bulging out, and a bullet lodged in it.

She stared at it for long seconds before her brain made sense of it. Her el cheapo phone had saved her life. Who’d have guessed that a phone could stop a bullet?

Now that her brain knew she wasn’t dead, she could make sense of the aches in her body. She had a spot on her chest which screamed in agony, where the bullet had driven the phone into her ribs. Her back and head were a mass of bruises from being slammed into the ground and having the air knocked out of her.

But she wasn’t dead. All she had to do was get enough air into her lungs and she could scream for help.

Hall was bashing Andy’s head into the ground, even while he grunted with pain from whatever Andy was doing. She was no expert, but it looked as if the former SEAL was going to kill him.

It took six desperate inhalations before she could force her voice to work. Finally, she was able to yell, ‘Frankie! Frankie! Help!’

Her voice sounded too small and rusty to carry, and she tried to yell again.

It cost Andy. At the sound of her voice, he turned his head and saw her standing.

‘Roz!’

He believed she was dead, Roz realized. He had seen the shot and thought Hall had killed her. She flapped a hand at him, trying without words to reassure him.

Hall took advantage of Andy’s distraction to hit him in the gut and the eye. Andy’s head snapped back, hitting the ground with a force that made her wince. Where was Frankie?

She heard a roar in the distance. Frankie came running from the castle and saw the fight on the ground. He was holding a bow and arrow in his hands, and even as he ran, he nocked an arrow and aimed.

It flew true, and hit Hall on the shoulder. Had it not been for the chain mail he was wearing, and the leather armour underneath, it would have done the job.

Hall reared back from Andy, saw the new opponent and pulled out his gun. Seemingly without aiming, he fired and Frankie fell.

Holding onto the nearest tree in an effort to stay upright, Roz gasped. No, not Frankie. Please no.

Hall turned back to Andy, now with his gun aimed at him. He stood over him, taking aim. His finger tightened.

The second arrow hit him on the thigh as he fired, and the bullet went into the ground beside Andy’s head.

Frankie, bleeding from his shoulder, had struggled to his knees and was holding his bow in a defiant grip. He yelled, ‘Extras, soldiers, over here!’ Even with the shake of pain, his voice contained authority.