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Visions of sliding back into the hole to become food for the snake assaulted her. She shook them out of her head and lost her grip on the ladder. She frantically grasped for a rung and pressed herself against the ladder when she caught hold of it. Another explosion rocked the ground beneath her, making the ladder slide down the slope towards the water. Belinda bit her lip hard to stop herself from screaming. She clung to the top rung as the ladder stopped its slide. Belinda forced her eyes open to see how far she’d slipped. Not too far, but the rim was further away than it had been before the explosion. She attempted to wipe tears from her eyes and only succeeded in clogging them with mud. She could still make it over—if her leg held.
Angry men shouted above her. But none of them were John.
Please, please, please, please, please…
She prayed, silently begging God to save John.
To save the man she’d fallen in love with.
The man who was sacrificing himself to save her.
Please.
She put her hand on the rim of the crater. There was nothing close to hold on to. All she could do was press her palm flat and use it for balance as she climbed up to stand on the top rung. Her body lay flat against the steep slope as she took each step up to the top. Slowly, her head breached the edge of the pit, and she gasped. The mine was on fire.
The hut she’d sat against with John was ablaze. The two vehicles in the clearing were destroyed, and bits of metal lay scattered on the red, muddy earth. Men ran frantically, firing shots at an enemy Belinda couldn’t see. Not two feet from her, lay the dead body of the guard who’d been watching over them. His head was turned towards her, and his blank eyes stared straight at her, while his spilled blood soaked into the red clay.
Belinda felt bile rise at the sight and squeezed her eyes tightly closed. The action made her sway with dizziness, and she forced them open again. She deliberately kept her gaze from the body as she searched the clearing for John. There was no sign of him.
A shout snagged her attention. The sound of flesh hitting flesh grew loud. Two men barrelled into the clearing. They were covered in mud and blood.
And one of them was John.
Chapter 32
“Now,” Beast roared at Belinda before he launched himself at Martinez.
He had only two thoughts in his head: kill the brothers, save Belinda. He hit the man in front of him, one punch to his jaw, another to his stomach. Angel kicked out, hitting Beast in the knee, and making him slip in the mud. Instead of getting back to his feet, he used his position to tackle Martinez. He grabbed him around the waist and pummelled his kidneys until he was certain the guy would piss nothing but blood if he survived this fight.
Something hard struck Beast’s back and sent him to his knees, forcing him to release Martinez. Beast glanced behind him to find the other brother wielding a length of wood. Movement brought his head back around, just in time to see Angel kick at his head. Beast ducked, rolled and punched at the guy’s crotch. Angel howled and toppled.
Diego roared and rushed him. Beast rolled out of his way, in time to avoid the plank aimed at his head, but not fast enough to miss the kick to his ribs. He felt a crack and knew they were broken.
Angel struggled to his feet, and Diego rushed Beast again. There was a blast, sending all three men flying. Beast landed hard on the edge of the crater he’d told Belinda to hide in. He shook his head, fighting against the ringing in his ears and the disorientation that overwhelmed him. He had to get up, had to be ready. Glancing into the pit, he saw Belinda reach for the ladder leaning against the steep muddy side.
Good.
He had to fight the urge to rush to her aid. Fear for her was a taste in his mouth, one that made him nauseated. She was running on fumes, fighting pain and fever, terrified she was going to die. Beast had to trust that she would do as they’d agreed, because the Martinez brothers were bearing down on him.
He pushed away from the side of the crater and jumped to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs, knowing that showing weakness was tantamount to conceding the fight. He was born for this. He’d been fighting on the streets of Atlantic City since he was barely a teen. And every single one of those fights, every professional match, was practice for this one.
He clenched his fists and charged for the nearest brother. Diego was unsteady on his feet, still shaking his head to get over the blast. Beast took him to the ground, straddling him while he punched his face, over and over again, until he went limp beneath him. The bastard was still breathing. Beast lifted his fist, knowing a punch to the throat would finish Diego off, when something slammed into his shoulder, sending him back into the mud.
It took him a second to realise he’d been shot. Blood poured from his arm, but he didn’t feel the pain. There was too much adrenalin in his system to allow it. He flexed his fist. It still worked. He’d worry about the bullet wound later. With a grunt, he clambered to his feet as Angel came at him. His arm was out in front of him. In his hand was a gun.
Diego groaned and rolled to his side. It was enough to distract his brother, who turned to look at him. Beast dove behind the burning news van, got to his feet and ran. Shots rang out, pinging against the burning metal, as Angel fired wildly. Beast saw Angel pull the trigger and nothing came out. He tossed the gun at the flames. Beast ran at him, pushing him into the middle of the clearing.
It was a whirl of fists and feet. Beast reeled at the blows, but didn’t feel them. That would come later. If he survived. He punched at Angel’s head and watched the blow hit true. Blood spurte
d and his head swung wildly. Beast didn’t wait. He followed the punch with a death blow to the throat, crushing Angel’s windpipe and sending him to the ground.
There was no time to gloat over the body. Beast whirled to face the other brother, only to stop dead. Diego was on his feet and pointing a gun straight at Beast.
“This is for my brother, you bastard!” He pulled the trigger.
There was a moment when time stood still. Beast watched shock spread over Diego’s face. The gun fell from his hand as his other hand pressed to his stomach. Bright red blood mingled with the mud covering him. He looked down at the blood and then crumpled, knees, shoulders, face hitting the ground.
Beast swung around to see who’d fired, and his heart stopped. Belinda was lying face down, half out of the crater. Her arm was stretched out and there was a gun in her hand. Beside her lay the body of the guard who’d watched over them. His weapon was missing. Belinda had used it to save Beast’s life.
