Cage Match (24 page)

Andreas felt a powerful, primitive urge to keep on strangling the life out of him. His

lizard brain screamed,
Enemy. Kill.

Ankar reached up with desperate hands and clawed at his face. He dug a thumb

into Andreas‟s right eye and gouged. Blinding pain radiated from his eye, and he

screamed. His grip loosened, and his hands automatically went to his face. He heard

Ankar draw a ragged breath, felt hands push him off as the other man squirmed out

from underneath him.

Andreas opened his good eye in time to see Ankar lunging at him again. The

model grabbed a handful of his hair and wrenched his head back, then delivered a jab

to his throat that made Andreas gag.

Ride the pain
, Jabez‟s voice in his head ordered.
Use it.

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He obeyed, not heeding the throbbing in his eye or throat. He blinked away the

blackness that threatened to obliterate the light. If he didn‟t stay focused, stay

conscious, he‟d die.

Jerking his head to the side, he tore his hair from the other man‟s grip. He

punched Ankar‟s gut with a one-two combination like Jabez had taught him, then

leaped up and darted away from his opponent to give himself time to regroup.

Andreas was only dimly aware of his surroundings. The glare of lights and din of

the audience were hazy compared to the man before him. There was only this moment,

this place in time, and an enemy to be taken down. A kind of calm clarity came over

him as he attacked Ankar once more.

Andreas went in hard and fast, punching and kicking in controlled abandon. He

drove the bigger man back against the bars, battering him with blow after blow. Blood

spattered from beneath his fists. The model‟s beautiful face was a red mask. His head

was bowed, fists held protectively in front of his face, and then he crumpled, cowering

on the ground and drawing himself into a fetal ball.

Andreas felt powerful, towering over him, kicking and hitting. It was as if he were

possessed by a demon with one directive—to eliminate this man from the face of the

earth. But deep inside him, the voice of conscience and reason clamored to be heard. He

couldn‟t kill this man, a prisoner like himself thrown into an intolerable situation. If he

refused to finish it, what would happen? The ring was no place for compassion or

mercy, but Andreas didn‟t want to become a killer.

He stepped back, panting, his fists still clenched. The crowd roared for blood,

chanting, “Kill, kill, kill.” Turning in a slow circle, he looked at the faces staring back at

him, the avid eyes and shouting mouths. He might be the one in the cage, but they

looked like animals, hungry hyenas eager for a kill.

“No,” he shouted, unheard over their death chant. “I won‟t do it.”

A blow from behind knocked him forward. He stumbled, but caught his balance

and twisted around to face Ankar. The man was back on his feet. His bright blue eyes

glittered in his red-streaked face. His teeth were bared, and he made a growling noise

as he barreled into Andreas with his head down.

Reacting on instinct, Andreas grabbed his head in a hard grip and twisted. He

couldn‟t hear the snap of his neck above the yelling of the audience but felt the

resistance and the break. When he let go, Ankar fell to the ground and lay still.

Andreas was dimly aware of the people around him surging to their feet. One of

the doors opened, and a medic accompanied by several armed guards entered the

arena. The medic knelt beside Ankar and checked his vitals, then gave a signal to

someone in a viewing box above the tiers of seats. A voice came over the sound system

proclaiming Andreas the winner of the match and recommended all private bets be

settled before anyone left the premises. The disembodied voice went on to say that the

Fortias heir would be available for closer inspection prior to the auction. “Any who

wish to bid may visit him in the holding cell.”

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His body trembled as the flood of adrenaline receded, leaving him shaken and

weak. He didn‟t know if he could remain upright, let alone walk with the guards as

they escorted him out of the ring and back down the corridor. He staggered, and the

men grabbed his arms on either side, hauling him between them. They dropped him

onto the pallet in the cell.

A medic again knelt beside Andreas to examine his injured eye. “This may require

some surgery. It‟s hard to tell how much damage has been done with all this swelling,

but don‟t worry, I‟m sure it can be fixed. You won‟t be blind.”

Andreas glared at him with his good eye.

The man examined the rest of his body, stitched and bandaged a few gashes, then

packed up his bag and left the room. Andreas collapsed back on the pallet with a groan

and closed his eyes. His head throbbed and whirled as though he was drunk. He‟d

killed a man, broken his neck, and didn‟t even have time to feel sick about it because he

was already focusing on what would happen next.

He thought of Jabez and the night he‟d first met him. Even if it had been Timon‟s

idea, Andreas had accepted the gift of sexual services. Was this how Jabez had felt,

drained from his fight yet still wired, waiting and wondering who would come for him?

Once more the door slid open. Andreas opened his good eye to see a man entering

the room accompanied by a guard. He blinked away the blurriness that shrouded his

vision and focused on the big figure. A fresh rush of energy flooded his system, and he

bolted upright to face the man in the elegant suit with the stylish haircut.

Jabez gazed back at him, his face expressionless before glancing at the guard on

his left. “You can leave. I‟ll be fine.”

“I‟m sorry, sir, but we can‟t take that chance. We don‟t want a hostage situation to

develop.”

Jabez reached into his pocket and drew out a wallet. He handed the man a wad of

cash. “I‟ve got it under control. I‟ll call you when I‟m done.”

“Very well, sir.” The guard left, and the door slid closed behind him.

Andreas opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Jabez put a finger to his

lips.

“I got here late but caught the end of your match. Impressive.”

Andreas remained silent, letting Jabez play out the scene for any listeners they

might have.

“You don‟t look like much, but you beat the shit out of that Viking, which was

pretty hot.” He moved closer and touched the injured side of Andreas‟s face with gentle

fingers. “The question is whether you‟re worth my investment. Maybe I could outbid

the others, but maybe not.”

Jabez leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “I think I need to get you out

another way. Are you ready?”

Andreas inhaled the scent from his neck and nodded.

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Reaching down the front of his trousers, Jabez pulled out a pair of miniature guns

and handed one to him. The palm-sized weapon was military issue, capable of more

power and accuracy than its size would suggest. Andreas wrapped his fingers around

the cool handgrip.

Jabez continued his charade. “Get down on your knees. Show me you‟re worth it,

and I‟ll bid on you. Believe me, you could do a lot worse. There‟s a guy with a torture

chamber, loves to play with his celebs before he finishes them off.”

Hiding his weapon by his side, he motioned Andreas down on his knees, then

called out, “Fuck you, you little biting bastard. Hey, guard, I‟m finished! Get me the hell

out of here.”

The door immediately slid open, and the guard came inside, his attention focused

on Andreas.

Jabez stepped behind the guard, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and fired

a silent jolt into the side of his neck. The man gave a gurgling wheeze, then slumped in

Jabez‟s embrace without a struggle.

He let the body slide down to the floor, then began to strip the man, taking not

only his uniform, but his weapon, ID badge, and key card. He threw the uniform at

Andreas, who quickly put it on.

Jabez tucked his gun in his jacket pocket for easy access and paused in the

doorway to glance both ways before stepping into the hallway. He beckoned Andreas

to follow and closed the door behind them.

“Hide your gun. We‟ll try to bluff our way out first, but if it doesn‟t work, you‟ve

gotta be ready to shoot without hesitation, understand?”

“I can do it,” Andreas promised. He followed Jabez down the hall, wishing he

wore a cap so he could pull the bill down over his eyes.

Jabez turned down the side corridor that the man in the suit had taken earlier.

“We‟re almost to the front of the building. There‟ll be lots of people, some of them

waiting to check you out. Don‟t duck your head but keep a little behind me so your face

is hidden. Walk like a guard, and they probably won‟t look past your uniform.”

Andreas released a shaky breath and straightened his shoulders. He held his

weapon hidden in the palm of his hand, pressed against his side. His body trembled,

and his legs felt like they might collapse beneath him. They were actually going to walk

right through the crowd and out the front door.

He walked behind Jabez, using the other man‟s body as a shield to hide his face.

The guard‟s uniform was big and sagged around his waist, although he‟d cinched it

with the belt.

Jabez pushed open a glass door, and the sounds of celebration greeted them. The

guests in their elegant clothes were drinking and talking, enjoying the after-match

social. Several people looked up as they came through the door, studying Jabez‟s

imposing figure, but barely noticing Andreas just as Jabez had promised.

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Andreas pressed even closer to him. Anyone watching might think he was

guiding Jabez to the exit. A pair of double doors was in sight, and they wove through

the crowd toward them. His throat was incredibly dry, and a wave of dizziness swept

through him. He looked around the room, searching for other guards or personnel

among the party guests. They were easy to spot with their dark suits, communicator

earpieces, and restless gazes.

The doors were only a few yards away now, but there were men flanking it on

either side. He and Jabez would have to walk past them to leave the building.

“Ready?” Jabez muttered, putting his hand in his jacket pocket.

“Yeah.” Andreas tightened his grip on his weapon and turned off the safety.

The guards by the door stood at ease, hands crossed in front of them, bodies

relaxed as they scanned the room. It was clear they saw their job as a formality and

didn‟t expect trouble from any of the assembled guests, who were enthusiastically

socializing.

For one second, Andreas imagined they could walk right past. As a patron who‟d

decided to leave the party, Jabez wouldn‟t be scrutinized, and perhaps Andreas could

accompany him without question. But the moment he thought it, he made eye contact

with one of the guards. The man‟s eyes widened, and he reached for his weapon.

“Hey,” was all he had time to say before Jabez pulled his own gun and shot him.

The silent laser blast didn‟t draw any attention. Even the man‟s partner didn‟t notice

him falling until he slid down the wall to the floor.

The partner‟s response was faster. He drew and fired at Jabez, who grabbed the

nearest party guest and pulled the man in front of him like a shield. The blast shot past

them both and hit someone standing behind them. A woman screamed.

Andreas whirled to find two other guards pushing their way through the crowd,

shoving people out of the way as they ran toward the incident at the door.

“
No hesitation
,” he remembered as he aimed carefully and shot one of them. A

smoking hole appeared in his chest, and the blast knocked the guard back into a waiter

with a tray of canapés, sending it crashing to the floor.

Pandemonium broke out as people screamed and pushed one another in their

attempts to escape the room. Jabez took advantage of the turmoil. He shot over the

shoulder of his human shield and plugged the other guard at the door, hitting him in

the head. The man dropped to the floor like his partner.

Jabez thrust away the man in his arms, grabbed hold of Andreas‟s arm, and

yanked him toward the unguarded door. As they slammed through it, Andreas felt a

lightning bolt stab through his arm. He cried out but kept running. He didn‟t have a

choice as Jabez dragged him along.

There was no time to look at the building where the fight had been held or the

parking lot through which Jabez hauled him, but flashes of impressions struck him. The

air was humid and sweltering, rich with the scent of loam and chlorophyll. Trees