I jogged to the rear of the building and looked both ways. The lot remained empty and still.
I whistled. The answer came in seconds. A whistle. Not Clay's whistle. Then, on the end of it, his whistle farther away, in the direction I'd first heard him.
I swung my back to the wall and listened, but heard only the muffled machines inside. Then I caught the faint scuff of a shoe... overhead. I glanced up as a shadow edged over the roof.
Tesler jumped. I tried to twist out of the way, but he caught my shoulder and I spun, feet scrabbling against the gravel. His fingers whispered across my new ski jacket as I lunged out of reach.
I started to run, but kept slipping on gravel, losing my speed advantage fast. There was a small building ahead, some kind of storage for the factory. I ran for that.
Just keep ahead. One step ahead. That was all I needed to do until Clay arrived. He couldn't be far.
I made it to the building and raced around the front corner, then along the wall. Tesler's footfalls were at least a half-dozen paces back. Too far to lunge and grab me. Too close to sneak around the other way. Now I just had to keep him going around the building in circles until Clay showed up.
I zipped around the rear corner... and found a fence blocking my path. I skidded and swerved, my boots sliding. He dove and caught the back of my jacket. I wrenched, but he had a firm grip. I yanked down my zipper, trying to get out of the coat. His foot caught mine and down I went.
I fought--kicking, clawing, writhing--but within seconds he had me pinned. He was a man who knew exactly how to pin a smaller opponent so she couldn't get away, couldn't fight back, couldn't do anything but scream. And I would scream. I didn't care how mortified I'd be later, because all that mattered was getting away before he did what he wanted to do.
I barely got the first note of my scream out before he jammed his forearm down on my throat, cutting me off, a move so deft it was almost instinct. I knew now who'd been responsible for those missing girls around Roman's territory, and who was responsible for the ones here. I knew what Tesler had done many times before and what he was about to do to me.
Even as I struggled, that voice inside told me to stop. You can't fight. Just lie still and go someplace else. Find the old place, the one where he can't touch you. Just go there and wait until it's over.
His hand pushed under my shirt, under my bra, fingers digging in, nails scraping. I snarled and twisted and tried to hit, to claw, but he had my shoulders pinned so I couldn't do more than lift my hands a few inches off the ground. I rocked and heaved so hard I thought I was going to dislocate my shoulder, but I didn't care. I bucked and squirmed until he had to shift his weight to keep me still, one arm at my throat, the other hand squeezing my breast. And when he shifted, I got the momentum I needed to wrench my arm free.
I grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked. His hand flew from under my shirt, catching my wrist and wrenching until it was at the breaking point. I kept pulling, but came away with a handful of hair, my grip lost.
He pinned me again. When his hand went back under my shirt, he twisted my breast hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. I rocked and bucked and flailed, but I couldn't get free. I just couldn't, no matter how many fights I'd won, no matter how many years I'd trained, no matter how strong I was and how many times I'd told myself that no one, no one would ever touch me like this again. It was happening and there was nothing I could do.
The more I struggled, the harder his forearm jammed down on my neck, until finally I couldn't breathe. I kept fighting. I heard myself gasping. I saw the world tilting and darkening. But all I could feel was his hand at my waist, ripping at my jeans as he clawed and grabbed and grunted.
Then he was flying off me, Clay's face behind him, twisted with rage. Clay spun, holding Tesler by the back of his jacket, his skull on crash course with the wall, and I knew that's where it was headed. Clay was going to kill him. And I didn't care.
No, I did care. I was glad of it. I would do it myself if I had the chance. I could say I was doing it for the girls he'd raped and killed, to make sure there wasn't another, and while that was part of it, I was really doing it for me--so he would never get the chance to come back and rape me.
It only took a split second for Clay to whip Tesler around, for me to think I was glad of it, for Tesler's body to spasm in panic as he realized he was about to die. But in that moment, a second mutt flew around the corner.
I leapt to my feet to cut him off, but he was already in flight. He smacked into Clay's shoulder and threw him off balance. Clay didn't drop his prey, but that moment of reprieve was enough for Tesler. His feet found the ground and his fist headed for Clay's jaw. Clay ducked the blow, but in doing so, released him.
The second mutt was a smaller, wiry blond. I recognized his smell. He'd been in our hotel room, Dennis's cabin and the museum. Tesler's buddy, the one who'd introduced himself to Reese as "Dan." He grabbed Clay by the back of the coat, but I yanked him off his feet, breaking his grip on Clay.
And so we paired off. Dan gladly turned on me, leaving his bruiser of a friend to Clay. His first few strikes were halfhearted--if he dispatched me quickly, he'd have to leap into the fray with Clay.
When I dodged his blows and landed two of my own, Dan started fighting in earnest, still slow at first, like a pro with a full card ahead of him, trying to figure out the least amount of energy he can expend. But he soon figured out that a lower weight class doesn't necessarily mean an inferior fighter.
After a few hits Dan ducked a blow, danced to the side... and kept going, taking off across the parking lot. I chased him past two buildings, and then circled back to Clay.
Clay was having only moderately more trouble with his matchup. Tesler might be an expert at overpowering women, yet his fight skills were little better than the average Saturday night brawler's. If he landed a blow, it sent Clay reeling, but Clay was faster and more agile and easily dodged most of them, and soon figured out the guy's routine.
When a solid right hook sent Tesler spinning, Clay eased back and looked over at me.
"You want to take over, darling? Finish him?"
"Fuck off," Tesler snarled, spitting blood.
He swung. Clay ducked.
I stepped forward. "I've got it."
"Good. Just watch your clothes. He's a bleeder."