Designed for Murder (Killer Style 4)

“I was wondering if you’d ever figure it out.” He jerked his chin at her sword. “Are you planning to slice and dice me?”

“That’s too good for you.” The urge to do just that had her tightening her grip, even as she knew she couldn’t do it. “You’re going to face justice for the misery you caused.”

He threw his head back and laughed, as though totally unimpressed with her threat. “Really, I think taking care of Roger would weigh in my favor with a jury. He was an idiot putzing around with half a kilo here and half a kilo there. He had no plan. He had no vision. I came up with the import plan to bring it in by soaking the material in liquid cocaine using a formula that made it virtually undetectable from regular fabric. I found the suppliers. I made the deal with Diamond Tommy Houston to distribute in Harbor City. Then that asshole Roger gave you the wrong fabric. Worst of all, the idiot didn’t even realize it. Imagine my shock when I got the vestment you’d made from my fabric.”

“How could you do this?” Josh had been a part of Magic Battledome longer than she had. “How could you hurt your own friends?”

“The only friends I have are the dollar bills in my bank account.” Josh shrugged as he adjusted his st

ance, taking a defensive posture. “Everything else is transient.”

He reached behind his back and pulled out a broadsword. Three feet long and heavy, judging by the way his forearms bulged as he held it aloft, there was no way it was a LARP-approved foam imitation. “You want to give up now, Silver Queen.”

“That’s what you think.” She was rusty, but swordplay was like riding a bike. She just had to remember to keep her balance and let her hands lead the way.

She flicked her wrist. The point of her sword sliced through the inadequate defense of his mock breastplate, leaving two flaps where there had only been one solid piece of latex before. Josh didn’t flinch. A quiet, icy calm settled in Mika’s center. He raised his sword high like a battle-ax and swung it down with a deep grunt. She leaped to the left. His sword hit the ground by her feet, sending dirt flying.

She parried, striking his shoulder hard and fast. A scarlet circle soaked through the white of his costume. With a great angry roar, he rushed her. She spun left. His blade missed by inches, but his elbow connected with her eye socket. She struggled to maintain her balance. He swung his sword, and she jumped back, but the tip sliced through her latex armor, drawing a bloody line across her abdomen. If it had been a sharper blade, or Josh a better swordsman, her guts would be all over the ground by now.

Time to end this. Josh outweighed her by at least thirty pounds and had a good eight inches on her five foot two inches, but she was fighting for more than her life. She was fighting for her friends.

Thrust. Parry. Strike. She aimed for his legs, slicing away at his vulnerable flesh and dancing out of reach. Again and again she hit her target while managing to stay just out of his reach.

Her blade found its mark in the juicy part of his thigh. Josh screamed and fell face-first to the ground. She kicked the hilt of his sword, sending it spinning away from him.

“Stay down.” She reached for her cell phone tucked into her shin guard so she could call Alex.

Josh rolled over and threw a handful of gritty soil at her face. The little particles pelted her eyeballs like boulders. He rushed to his feet. She stumbled back. He plowed his shoulder into her sternum, sending her the rest of the way down.

The back of her hand hit a stone, knocking the sword from her grasp. Josh landed a hard punch to her stomach. Then another. And another. She rolled onto her side, reflexively curling into a ball.

“Oh no you don’t.” He pinned her shoulders with his hands and forced her flat on her back.

Pain wracked her body, and blood seeped from the cut on her stomach.

Josh pressed his knees down against her wrists, immobilizing her arms, then released his hold on her shoulders. She braced for another punch. But instead of smashing his fist into her face, he curled his hands around the base of her neck, cutting off her air.

Panic jolted through her. She bucked. She thrashed. She gave every last ounce of power in her muscles to try to throw him off. But he remained looking down at her dispassionately, without a glimmer of the Josh she’d known for years left in him.

“Don’t worry, my liege,” he said. “I’m not going to kill you. There are other options for pretty little things.” He tightened his grip around her throat. “They’ll pay top dollar for you—even with the bruises.”

Fighting against the darkness creeping into her vision, she sank her fingernails into his shins, scraping downward and tearing the flesh. He howled but didn’t release his hold.

Mika’s lungs burned. Her arms fell away from her, as if they weren’t hers. The trees disappeared. The sky faded to black. The man above her vanished into nothing. Everything was gone except for one last vision of the familiar silver knight outside her tent. Except now, consciousness slipping away from her, the knight in her vision had his faceplate up, and she could see his face.

Carlos. In her mind it was Carlos—always.

She couldn’t hear him over the rushing river in her ears, but she didn’t need to in order to know what words his lips formed.

Mi cielo, he said as he wrapped his arms around her.

Mi cielo, he said as his mouth brushed against hers.

Mi cielo, he said as he pledged forever with his body.

He called her his heaven, but he was hers. In the half world between life and death, she realized that it wasn’t Carlos’s lack of faith in her that had hurt so badly. It was her own lack of faith in herself. She’d blamed herself for past sins just as harshly as he did. It was past time they learned to forgive themselves.

Josh’s grip tightened and the white blur eating away the edges of her vision of Carlos’s face brightened with an overwhelming sense of peace and love. There was love—hers for him and his for her. It was total and all-consuming.