Dom Wars: Round 6 Read online

  The trainer watched the Germans’ descent and when they made it to the ground, he signaled the Australian man. The whole process was repeated, differing only when the trainer got to the Australian woman. A combination of scolding and pep talk ensued to convince her to leave the helicopter, until I was sure he’d shove her if she didn’t go under her own power. Which she finally did.

  The dreaded moment arrived when the trainer gestured Lucian to come forward. He gave my hand one last squeeze of reassurance and moved to the door. I held my breath while he prepared and then went over the side.

  My heart stopped when the trainer’s ice-blue gaze turned to me. Fear vibrated my muscles with such intensity I doubted walking would be possible. But walk I did, riding the nauseating unsteadiness of the floor as the pilot made adjustments. By some miracle, I stood for the inspection and when the signal came, I calmly swung out the door and hung there in the air.

  Panic seized my body as the wind created by the rotors buffeted me, making it impossible to keep my eyes open. I clung there for a moment, hanging by the ropes and harness, while my heart threatened to beat a hole through my chest. I sucked in a breath only to have the wind of the blades blast into my lungs. Shit. I had to do this. Hanging under the helicopter until the end of time was not an option. But my muscles said otherwise, they said hanging there indefinitely was the only option.

  Forcing myself to concentrate, I lowered myself a little. Then a little more. More. The ground gradually came closer and Lucian stood there waiting for me with his arms up like he were going to catch me. After an eternity, I figured I’d reached the end of the rope when Lucian rushed forward. He helped me unhook, gushing like a proud father about how fucking awesome I was, a natural blab la, then grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the edge of a forest not far away.

  Out of the noise from the helicopter’s engine, we were able to talk for the first time since leaving Honolulu. I went gratefully into his arms and leaned against him, sucking up the strength of his super tight embrace. I could almost believe in that moment, that second, we’d get through this Round.

  His gentle touch tipped my chin up for a kiss and I let myself get lost in the surge of desire that always came with his touch. “God, I’m glad that’s over. I was terrified for you.”

  I leaned back to look in his eyes. “For me? Why?”

  He smiled a little. “You really have to ask?” He brushed his finger along my cheek, then nodded toward the right side of the beach where the man of the Japanese couple quickly removed his back pack, and handed it to his sub. No, slave. They were Master and slave. Probably half her Master’s age, the diminutive woman with waist-length bleached hair in heavy braids, swung his pack over her shoulder and waited to see what he wanted her to do next. Without a glance, he strode for one of the pallets of supplies just down the beach and she followed, seeming careful to maintain some specific distance behind him.

  Just watching the way he treated her gave me the creeps. Back at the Gladiator estate, she’d worn frilly dresses styled after ones made for dolls, barely covering her ass, with tights and Mary Jane shoes. Heavy, elaborate makeup altered her features and made her look more like a china doll prostitute or an anime figure, as did her hair. The man never did anything for himself that I could see. Thankfully we hadn’t been around the other teams all that much, just during the training stuff. I preferred to keep it that way.

  The Columbian couple ran toward another pallet just as the Japanese man cut the straps holding the supplies on theirs. I stared for a second, trying to be sure. “What is he doing, that isn’t their number, is it?”

  “No, it looks like the Australians’.” He waved Preacher and Becca over the second they landed, hurrying toward our own pallet of supplies.

  “Go!” Preacher yelled to us.

  Lucian and I ran to our supplies just as the Japanese Master drew his blade across a cloth bag and let the contents spill. Rice rolled in a pale stream, heading straight for the damp sand below.

  “Hey, stop!” Lucian abandoned our pallet and took off in a sprint requiring me to fight to keep up. “Get the fuck away!”

  Lucian drew closer and the woman moved away a little, looking afraid but something seemed off, the look on her face said she was up to no good.

  A quick look around and I spied an extension of forest behind her and rushed into the tree line to my right. Hurrying through the trees, I made my way behind the Japanese woman, slowing as I drew closer, crouching when I was as close as I could get, remaining concealed.

  Bitch tried anything, her ass was mine. Lucian and the man spoke, the man becoming louder and more irate, his body twitching in animated anger with every quiet word Lucian uttered. The little bastard made a slight feint to the left and quickly used a foot sweep to try and take Lucian down but Lucian avoided it easily. Good job baby. Sparring practice—for this very scenario—paid off.

  The girl darted for Lucian, knife drawn. Fear shot through me and I torpedoed her to the ground with my body then wrestled her arm behind her back and pried the knife from her hand. In my peripheral vision, Lucian evaded Mr. Japan’s assault with a whole lot of pissed off cussing.

  With the little bitch finally disarmed, I glanced up in time to see the Japanese bastard land a karate chop to Lucian’s raised arm. I launched onto the man’s back but he didn’t crumple beneath me like the girl. He grabbed my head and I let go to keep him from ripping my hair out.

  Lucian tackled him with another round of swearing, hitting the dude like a seasoned linebacker, sending them both sailing through the air. The second they hit ground, Lucian fought to pummel him to death, ramming his forehead while trying to contain the man’s flapping limbs.

  Someone shouted nearby as I scrambled to my feet. Breathing hard, I watched as the Australian man approached at a run. Then I noticed Preacher going over our pallet like we didn’t exist or we weren’t fighting for our lives.

  Red-faced, the Australian came to stop. “What the fuck?”

  Lucian lifted the little man off the ground and shoved him away. “I’ll kill you!” Lucian jabbed a finger at him while the man hurried off toward his cowering slave girl barking harsh Japanese at her while waving his arms like an angry bird.

  To see the woman bow and heft both their gear onto her back looking like a tortoise before stumbling toward the woods made me forget my bloodlust for her.

  Lucian hurried to examine my body while blood trickled from his lip. “He was sabotaging your supplies.” He didn’t even look toward the Australian.

  “Hey!”

  We turned at the booming voice of the Preacher who waved us over to our pallet. We hurried over, leaving the Australian couple to tend to their stuff. Seeing Becca in all that gear was a strange sight, but I soon forgot about it as I registered something wrong.

  “What the fuck is this?” Lucian pulled his hat back on and leaned over, hands on his knees to catch his breath.

  “Our supplies.” Preacher’s words grumbled with cold fury.

  I let out a shocked ha. “Are you kidding?”

  Preacher stood with hands on hips, clearly plotting somebody’s murder. Hopefully not ours. “Apparently, it’s all our money bought us.” He yanked off a sealed packet taped to the top of the supplies and handed it to Lucian. “Read.” He continued pushing through the small pile of goods, separating it while I helped Lucian get at whatever was in the little baggie.

  “A map,” Lucian handed it to me while opening another envelope. “And instructions. I think. I hope.”

  “Load these with as much stuff as you can baby,” Preacher handed Becca two duffle bags then shook his head, examining every item. “Probably will only need one bag.”

  “We have to get flags,” Lucian read. “Oh thank God. They have keys that unlock more supplies. We have coordinates to get to every flag and the supply station. Thank fuck. We can do that.”

  Preacher began calling out items. “We’ll take the compass, the one can of bug repellent, all the water, which
is only one of these for each of us.” He waved a bottle before putting it aside. “Taking the cookware for one.” He looked around. “No blanket. Great.”

  “Is there a tent?” I asked, worried.

  Preacher gave one dry laugh. “Don’t you wish?” He handed Becca things and she put them carefully in the bag, naming them as he went, sounding like a drill sergeant barking orders. “Paracord. Chem-lites. Rice. Dry beans. One roll of toilet paper. One flashlight. Three flares. And…” he paused. “A fucking ink pen? Dumb bastards.” He shook his head and stood. “Bring the bag, let’s hit every pallet on the beach. My guess is they couldn’t carry every damn thing.”

  Preacher took off and we hurried to follow, going from one pallet to another. Well, one advantage of having a bigger team, we could carry more. Problem was, we also needed more. We stuffed the two duffle bags and our clothing with as much as we could. We were armed with one machete, one small hatchet, one bowie knife, not counting the blades on the multi-purpose tools they’d included with our landing gear.

  “Not exactly a tent.” Preacher tossed Lucian a rolled up tarp. “Strap it on with this.” He tossed him another bundle of paracord next. “That’s our shelter.”

  I spotted a coil of thick rope and lifted it. “What about this?”

  Preacher nodded. “Definitely.” He finally stood and looked at all of us, at the gear weighing each of us down and nodded. “That’s it. Any more than that will slow us down too much. Let’s move out.” He looked at Lucian and strode to his side. “Let’s have a look at that map. Seeing as we have no real shelter, we’ll need to find decent coverage.” He looked all around us. “We’ll be lucky to get forty-five minutes before we can’t see shit in the canopy of that dense jungle.”

  “Coordinates say we should enter here.” Lucian pointed at the map. “This looks like it could be a rock outcrop. Might be a good spot to camp and it’s not that far.” Lucian glanced at the compass watch on his arm then pointed on his right. “I’d suggest going in there to avoid crossing this swampy area.”

  Preacher gave a single nod. “Let’s go.” He took off at a breakneck pace, machete at the ready, with Becca behind him followed by me, then Lucian at my rear.

  Once in the woods, the air went from clean ocean fresh, to gag me with a million hot leaves rotting in smelly earth, thick, damp stuff that tried to hold us in place. It was also nearly dark. Preacher was right. We moved at a snail’s pace as Preacher literally chopped a path through the dense forest.

  In a matter of minutes, my army fatigues sopped up my sweat and weighed me down even more than I already was.

  “Can’t see a fucking thing,” Preacher stopped. “Bane, take over here. I’ll scout and make sure we keep heading the right way.

  Chapter Three

  Damn, the underbrush just kept getting thicker and thicker and the ground seemed rougher with every step. The black cotton bandana I’d tied over my head to catch sweat was soaked and dripping so I’d have been better off with just my hat. My right hand and arm ached right to the bone from the constant strain of hacking through the brush with the machete. For a whole fifteen minutes. Even so, I only carved a barely passable path for us. I considered it quite an achievement, considering our map. A few lines and vague landmarks did not make a map. We’d be lucky to get anywhere following that thing, even if we hadn’t been forced to whittle our way through vegetation worthy of a horror movie.

  Preacher played scout a short distance ahead of us in the quickly fading light. He’d move like a radar to one side, switching to the other, and sometimes straight out in front. As the most experienced, he was best suited to keep us from being attacked or ambushed. The other contestants shouldn’t present that kind of threat, but after the scene on the beach with the Japanese couple, nothing would surprise me. I was glad Preacher agreed on that point. Neither of us wanted to take a foolish chance that might result in Tara or Becca being hurt.

  We’d burrowed through the underbrush more than an hour when Preacher whistled a signal from just ahead to the left. Grateful for even a moment’s respite from the shockwaves traveling up my arm from the machete, I motioned the women to my side and stopped to wait.

  Preacher joined us and gave Becca a small kiss before looking at me. “There’s a small stream just ahead. We’ll cross and make our way up a rise. The sun’s getting low, so hopefully we’ll get to where we’d planned to spend the night. And let’s pray it’s a good spot to camp. Keep a close eye out for anything that might be the flag. It should be near here. We can’t afford to miss it.”

  He disappeared again, and I took up the machete, my arm already aching in dread. Would I have to slash our path all the way across the island? Sure the fuck hoped not. I seriously doubted my arm would hold up to a whole week of that kind of punishment. Even using both my arms, there was just no way.

  The brush grew thicker as we neared the stream and forced us to move even slower. My lungs burned and the sharp pain in my side indicated my back was at the fuck you I’m done point.

  A cramp developed in my neck after just a few steps of trying to hack, watch the ground, and watch ahead and above for that fucking flag. Though the women assured me they’d not let us miss it, my brain refused to take the chance of not adding my own eyes to the search. We wouldn’t be able to find it after nightfall. Couldn’t chance trying and passing it up. Not to mention, it was my bet that this jungle was going to be a fucking black hole at night, so moving would be impossible anyway.

  An unseen rock reached up from nowhere and slammed my shinbone. Only the stubborn plant growth prevented me from falling onto the machete and gutting myself. At least falling served to muffle my shout of pain. Last thing we needed was other teams knowing where we were and possibly sabotaging our trail.

  Tara reached my side in an instant, her face pale and drawn with worry. Her eyes snapped beyond me and she crouched quickly into the groundcover. Becca did the same behind her.

  Ice water shot through my veins as visions of Jase fucking Duff hit me. I’d played endless scenarios of his appearance in my head and fuck, I was not ready.

  A quick glimpse of Tara’s face settled my nerves a little. It was more of a concern that crimped her brow, not the horror that sadist brought out in both of us.

  I relaxed a little and shifted carefully to get a view of what had their rapt attention. Less than thirty feet further, I spotted it. A narrow strip of blue silk wound through a series of small branches, maybe ten feet off the ground.

  Our first flag maybe? I studied the object long enough to determine that’s what it was and let out the whistle Preacher agreed I should use to signal the need for his immediate presence. Adrenaline fought against my better judgment, urging me to run and grab the flag and secure our first reward that came with it. I’d certainly fantasized long enough about what these rewards would be with the flags. Hopefully useful things.

  We waited for Preacher in the narrow crevice I’d hacked, all of us huffing, and our sweat glands set on flash flood. Half a minute later, the wall of green jungle on our right parted for Preacher’s insanely quiet passage. Man was a fucking ninja.

  I pointed to the strip of blue in the distance. “Flag?”

  He studied it and began hacking quickly toward it.

  I began a roll that would bring me to my feet and we all followed Preacher until we reached an opening where the material hung in a tree. “Thank God,” I sighed. “Definitely the flag?”

  Preacher stood with head angled. “Seems so.” I moved toward it and Preacher’s arm pushed me back. With a slow nod, he pointed to something in the tree canopy above the scrap of fabric. It took a moment, but I spotted the faint metallic glint almost perfectly camouflaged among the foliage. But not even a long, careful look clarified the puzzle.

  It could have even been just a trick of the fading light. I didn’t think so, though. A trap was more likely, given our situation and the sadistic Mr. Duff. That’s what I would probably do, rig something nasty to what looked like a
prize in hopes the opposition would be careless in their impatience to claim the win.

  “We’ll get that flag first thing in the morning, it’s too dark to attempt it now.”

  “I’ll scope the perimeter,” Preacher said, dropping back.

  I went forward, wanting a better look, hoping to figure out what sort of trap Duff would have put there. It wasn’t if he might do it, it was definitely what did he do.

  That sixth sense you get when tragedy strikes put sudden ice in my veins. I barely managed to choke back my shout to a hiss. “Don’t move!” I glanced back at a frozen Tara and Becca. “There could be a trap at our fucking feet. Look carefully.”

  Preacher’s low whistle came from the right and slightly behind, making sure we were okay. Becca replied with a different tone, one I suspected told him to watch for danger. We’d settled on a few whistles for communication, but those two seemed to have an entire set of whistles for casual private chatter in addition to the variety of orders and needs they could pass back and forth.

  Moments later, Preacher faded into view from the left. “The perimeter is secured.” The dude was crazy-good at this creeping around the jungle thing. It was easy to imagine him sneaking up on some enemy and slicing his jugular or spinal cord. Made me glad to be on the same side.

  “We don’t have a lot of time left before dark,” Preacher said. “And personally, I’d rather be a little distance from here.” He glanced to me, as if to ask if I agreed.

  I gave a nod. “That outcrop on the map should be over that way, maybe fifty yards. Should make a decent place to wait out the night.”

  Preacher led the way with Becca and Tara a few steps behind him in single file, while I brought up the rear. At least the vegetation had thinned a bit, making movement less difficult. Fewer leaves also made us easier prey and Preacher slowed to search for danger while I watched our backs. Would be so easy for anyone to pinpoint our location.