Alicia saw how evenly matched they were, peeled away from Hayden and charged in to help. Akatash flinched under Alicia’s spry assault, jumping away beyond her reach. Drake bounced off Ramses one more time but continued to use him as a punching bag, slamming punches into kidneys, gut and chest, ignoring the pain in his own wrists. Ramses wasn’t good enough to stop every blow but what he lacked in skill he more than made up for in muscle and pain resistance. The two blows he had managed to deliver made Drake see stars.
Kenzie danced around Mai, the two women facing six to one odds, but clouding that in a whirl of violence and precision. Dahl jumped in to help them. The sword flashed twice, back and forth, and four men fell dead. Mai glided between bodies, slipping and sliding at every turn and never offering a stationary target, senses attuned to all sides and to everything around her, bending and breaking limbs, throwing huge men with ease, and landing lethal blows. Mai was so good, would-be killers still came at her before realizing they were already dead. Kenzie’s eyes filled with a new respect. Dahl kept his eyes on the sword as if desperate to ask for a loan.
Drake slid under Ramses’ arm and punched three, four times. Not even a flinch touched the man’s eyes or body. He moved around the back, floating like Ali, and tried three kidney punches. Ramses swung around, a haymaker coming to take Drake’s head off, but it was easily avoidable. The Yorkshireman ducked and then tried Ramses’ face but striking those cheekbones was like striking foundation blocks.
Drake stood back. “What the fuck are you made of?”
Ramses guffawed. “Royal—”
Drake drew a knife and sliced across the man’s throat. “Blood?”
Luckily for the terrorist prince it was a shallow cut, leaking only a little red. But the pain incensed him, as Drake hoped it might. Bending down he swayed and swung. Drake concentrated on the vulnerable spots, knowing constant pain would soon wear him down.
Alicia, Beau and Akatash flowed past the expansive picture window; bewitching, eternal views to their left, violence on a whole new level to their right. Beau engaged almost all of the bodyguard’s attention whilst Alicia darted in and distracted him. The Frenchman’s expression said it all.
I can handle this.
Alicia checked on Drake and saw him head-to-head with Ramses. Could she help both men? The notion was relatively fresh to her — until recently she’d only cared for one person in battle — one feisty, hard-assed heroine with an attitude on the wrong side of bad. Now though…
Hayden saw Smyth and Kinimaka were starting to struggle at the bottleneck. More legionnaires were coming and some were slipping through. She drew her gun and ran to help, picking them off one by one.
“Dahl!” she cried.
“Low on ammo,” Smyth rumbled, face like riven paving. “And no end to these fuckers.”
Hayden threw him an extra clip. She didn’t need to explain further. At this rate they would be using their knives soon. She scooped up the few discarded enemy weapons and piled them at Smyth’s back.
“This should help.”
Dahl clobbered those nearest to him and then ran among them, smashing left and right, using his gun only when there was no alternative.
Drake raised an arm as Ramses picked up a lamp and smashed it down on him. Pieces shattered everywhere. Drake grabbed the flapping cord and looped it around the giant’s neck, then physically leapt behind him, pulling hard. The cord tightened and the man screeched, the first sound of pain he’d made as yet. Drake leaned back as far as he could, hauling with all his strength and using every pound of weight. Ramses pushed the other way, veins bulging, hands scrabbling to get under the cord, feet planted as if they had taken root there.
Drake leaned as far back as he dared, shocked at how hard Ramses fought. An errant bullet split the air between them, fired by a sprinting legionnaire who then collapsed dead after being cleaved by Kenzie. It seemed that both she and Mai were almost finished with their knot of legionnaires and would soon be free to help. Drake hung on, heaving, and then Ramses faltered. Falling to one knee, he put a fist on the ground, gasping for breath. Drake knew that to let up would be to risk losing his advantage, and kept on pulling although the strength was draining from his muscles. Realizing he was close enough to reach Ramses with his boot he introduced it to the man’s spine, and then his lower back bone. Keeping the cord in place he then leapt high, coming down on Ramses’ exposed neck as hard as he could with an elbow.
The prince collapsed, groaning. Mai ran up. Drake panted and glanced at her.
“Great timing, love.”
The Japanese woman reached out a hand to help him up. “Been a while.”
“The best of friends don’t need to talk every day,” he said. “They pick up just where they left off. Even if it’s been years.”
Mai’s face turned speculative and Drake realized she might be reading a little too much into that. Ramses seemed to get a second wind then though, and kicked out. Drake knelt on his back and quickly tied his hands and legs with cord.
“See how you like it, asshole.”
Alicia kicked at Akatash’s legs as he jabbed away at Beauregard. One of her strikes caught him across the knee and buckled his leg, causing him to groan in pain. He fell to one knee, catching a shin across the face as Beauregard doubled his own efforts. Blood marked the bodyguard’s features. Akatash took another blow to the face without flinching and then struck out at Alicia as he rolled across the polished floor. Alicia felt a massive pain in the thigh, nerve clusters exploding, and collapsed in agony. Akatash was on top of her in an instant.
The grinning face was pressed up against her own, sweat and blood mixing. Alicia could barely twitch, let alone move, as he bore down, hands free and thumbs driving deep into her most painful pressure points. Alicia felt agony like never before, screwing her face up to scream, and every ounce of energy fled her system. Akatash reared back to deliver a devastating blow that would snap her neck.
Beauregard couldn’t stop him.
Even Drake, watching the extreme struggle and sensing its outcome, diving for a knife and flinging it end over end, was too late to save her.
Akatash struck.
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
Alicia stared up at the face of death, unable to move.
Her final thought: Oh, Drake, we missed—
Then, the killing blow came and the pain struck her heart and brain and soul, but it was not Akatash’s blow. It was Beauregard, unable to stop the blow but managing to insert himself between Alicia and Akatash, taking the punch on his shoulder and then screaming with agony. Something snapped. Bones broke.
Beau whirled away from Alicia, leaving her groaning, grabbed hold of Akatash with one hand and slammed him up against the enormous window. The bodyguard tried to recover from his shock, flailing and kicking.
“So help me…” Beauregard said.
“Hey, Beau!” Kenzie shouted. “Does this help?”
She threw her great katana with full force, end over end, the long sword slicing the distance apart. Aimed high, it impacted above Beau’s head at the very center of the picture window. Akatash flinched. The glass cracked in the middle, crazy little lines running away from the impact point and bolting toward the edges. A piece fell, just a shard, and then a larger piece. A wedge the size of a paving flag crashed down into the room, shattering. Akatash was suddenly aware of the screaming wind at his back and the endless drop.