landing a kick or a strike from above or from Ahmed’s head level. She recognized some of Anthony’s trademark moves. If anything, Jake was more skilled, more powerful. More dangerous.
To her horror, Lexie saw the flash of the blade. She screamed out a warning, but Jake had already seen it. Grasping Ahmed’s wrist, the two huge men moved in a grappling circle. Jake clung to the wrist that held the knife while Ahmed struggled to twist it up into Jake’s chest. After several long minutes, when it looked as though first one then the other would break the deadlock, with a mighty thrust Jake slammed his heel at Ahmed’s kneecap. At the same time, he twisted Ahmed’s wrist using Ahmed’s own power to drive the blade up under his ribs, on a certain path to his heart. Whether the keening cry was a response to his crushed knee or a death wail, it was the last sound Ahmed made as he crumpled to the ground.
Well before, Brady had subdued Vadim with a vicious kick to the side of his head. Whether alive or dead, Vadim had not moved throughout the fierce battle between Ahmed and Jake. When Ahmed fell dead on the ground, Lexie freed herself from Clint’s arms and strode over to Mahmoud, who was lying face down in the gravel. At the sound of his tortured moan, Lexie kicked him over on to his back. The man’s shattered face was a gruesome sight. His breath came in traumatized gasps. Crouching down beside him, Lexie grabbed a hunk of his bloodied blond hair and jerked his head back, reveling in the hideous trauma to his face and jaw.
Lexie bent close to him breathing in the acrid smell of drying blood. “Tell me, Mahmoud? Did Anthony…my brother…really save your life?”
Mahmoud made a choking sound as blood bubbled out of the gash in his throat. He nodded and whispered, “Yes.”
Lexie stared into his eyes looking for some semblance of a soul. Seeing none, she tossed her head and allowed a slight smile to curve her lips.
“I see. That’s too bad, Mahmoud. But even a man as great as my brother made mistakes.”
She reached in her boot and yanked out her kama blade. She slashed the curved blade across his throat, carving a deep gash through tissue and bone.
Gasping in horror, Brady and Clint both dove for her, as if they could pull back the lethal blow. Jake reached her first. She glared up at him, daring him to reprimand her. He shook his head. His voice was harsh, cold.
“If you didn’t do it, I would have.”
He grabbed her by her arm and dragged her up next to him, holding her arm so tightly she knew she’d have bruises the next day. He snatched the knife out of her hand and first wiped the blade and then the handle on his pants. Stuffing it in his belt loop, he turned to Brady and Clint.
“Get their IDs. Hide them before the YPD arrives. I want to figure out who they are before it goes public.”
He jerked his head at Brady. Shoving Lexie at him, he ordered, “Get her out of here. Take her car. Make sure no one sees you leave. Go to the house. Don’t open the door to anyone except me.”
Brady nodded. Pulling Lexie close, he whispered, “C’mon, hotstuff. Let’s get you out of here. Not sure why. No one would believe that ninety percent of the damage to these guys came from itty bitty you. But we’re gonna keep it our little secret, right, big guy?” he said over his shoulder to Jake.
Lexie burrowed next to him, glad that his arms were so strong. The fierce tremor shaking her body threatened to bring her to her knees. She didn’t resist when Brady picked her up in his arms and hurried across the parking lot to her red Camaro. Never had it looked so inviting.
~~~
She stood under the steaming flow of water determined not to leave the shower until she washed away every trace of the hideous night. Shoving the picture of Anthony’s mutilated body deep in the recesses of her brain, she focused on the image of Mahmoud: his death gurgle, the blood bubbling from the gash in his throat. Revulsion shook her. She’d never killed a man. She’d wanted too. She would have many times in the past if she’d had a weapon. But that was a long time ago, before she learned to fight.
Forcing herself not to dwell on Mahmoud, she thought about Jake fighting Ahmed. She marveled at the memory of his powerful body, the ease of his strikes, his graceful deadly moves. He fought like a dancer, except that his stunning choreography was lethal. Like a sleek cunning animal, he seemingly chose his moves by instinct. The combination of sly finger thrusts to hidden pressure points, to unerring kicks and strikes to the most vulnerable places on Ahmed’s body, Jake was the consummate fighter. Unlike her when she fought, he moved peacefully, without anger. As Ahmed’s rage flared, Jake seemed almost serene, like he was fighting from a space that didn’t allow emotion, only deadly skill. Lexie recognized the lessons Master Wan tried to drill into her brain. Only rarely had she been able to achieve that level of detachment, to enter that place where Jake fought. Lexie thought with a grimace, she had a lot to learn.
She realized with a start that the water had cooled, was getting colder by the second. With a regretful sigh, she forced herself to leave the shelter of the enclosed stall. Energized by the bracing shower, she dried her hair then smeared gobs of her fragrant lavender and lemon scented lotion into every crevice of her body. Surveying her naked reflection, she was surprised to see few bruises or marks. Mahmoud’s hard slap across her face would definitely be bruised by tomorrow and she could see faint marks where Jake grabbed her arm.
She thought with a satisfied nod, she’d done a lot more damage to those hideous men than they’d done to her. She smiled at her reflection. She may not be the ultimate fighter that Jake was, but she sure as hell knew how to kick ass. She winked at her reflection. Three against one was nothing to sneer at.
She pulled on an abbreviated silky tank and matching hip hugging pajama bottoms and headed to the living room. Surprisingly, she was hungry. Starved, in fact. Adrenalin had that effect--among others, she thought with a grin.
Rounding the corner into the living room, she pulled up short. A surprised gasp escaped her lips.
Jake was sprawled on the sofa, his knees spread, his feet flat on the floor. Both arms were stretched wide across the back of the soft leather cushions. The fury raging in his eyes belied his casual pose. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to confront him. This was one angry man. And there was no question. His anger was directed at her.
Chapter 26
Jake gasped when he saw her coming down the hallway. He did his best to shove down the explosion of lust flooding him. Fuck. He should have known this would happen. He was no stranger to the testosterone laced after effects of a lethal battle. Killing and testosterone. It was a potent combination. There wasn’t a warrior alive who didn’t know its power. And the greater the rampage, the fiercer the need for relief.
Staring at the silky scrap of pink satin that barely contained her lush breasts and the matching low slung briefs, he groaned. Her long blond hair hung in a shimmering curtain of gold down her back. Her teeth gnawing at her lower lip betrayed her unease, triggering an even fiercer response in his groin.
Fighting for control, he glared at her.
“Dammit! Don’t you have a robe?”
She started in surprise then flushed, her eyes sparkling with anger.
“I’m sorry,” she said, heavy sarcasm lacing her retort. “I left home in a hurry after I learned my brother had been killed. I didn’t have time to pack ‘appropriate’ lingerie.”
Jake unwound himself from the sofa with a heavy sigh.
“Look, Lexie. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that.”
She tossed her head, clearly trying to seize the offensive.
“It’s not as though I knew you were here. You could have warned me you were going to sneak in here uninvited.”
Her smart assed answer spiked his anger.
“Like hell you didn’t.”
He moved toward her, refusing to let her fib stand uncorrected..
