by Arno Joubert
Her eyes flicked toward Neil, a terrified and pained expression on her face. “No, Neil, stay back.” She stood up and started backpedaling again. Her arm hung limply to her side, and blood spatters speckled her face and neck. She tripped and fell with her back into the fence on the edge of the canyon.
Neil ran toward her. She was standing up again, using the fence for support. “Watch out, Alexa!”
And then his entire world imploded. He felt a primordial scream rumble in his throat as another slug hit Alexa in her chest. She glanced down at her wound as she slammed into the fence, somersaulted, and fell backward off the face of the cliff.
The fence tumbled behind Alexa as she fell into the abyss, tearing from the ground, but it jammed tight at an anchoring pole, held up by a single, taught wire. Neil flew to the edge and looked down. She was hanging on by one hand, swinging to and fro, slamming into the sheer wall ten yards below.
Neil's heart hammered in his throat. Anderson Fitch stood leaning back against the hood of his car, chewing on a cigar. He held a Luger on his lap and smiled at Neil with amusement, his cheeks pushed up in a broad grin. Some of the guards now started joining him, but he held up the Luger, stopping them from intervening. He was enjoying the show.
Neil jammed his foot between the wire and the anchoring pole, making sure the boot was hooked in and secure. He hung over the cliff’s edge, grabbed the fence weave between straining fingers, and started hauling it up and dumping it to his side. He had to pull up Alexa's dead weight as well as the fence and the poles connected to it. Alexa’s body jerked as he pulled her closer. Nine yards, eight yards . . .
Tears streamed from Neil’s eyes. “Hold on, baby, nearly there,” he shouted, spittle flying from his lower lip. They had broken the first rule of entering an unsecured area: clear it first.
Neil looked down as he sucked in a lungful of air. Alexa's eyes were wide with shock, her injured arm hanging limply at her side, but she still held on with a white-knuckled grip.
Neil glanced over his shoulder as he hauled another yard of fencing to the top. “This is damn murder, Fitch,” Neil shouted as he strained against the fence. He fumbled in his pocket, trying to push the button on his GLD while trembling with the effort of keeping his grip on Alexa.
Fitch stood up from the hood of his old-fashioned, brown Lincoln and sauntered toward Neil. “We made a Gypsy pact, Allen.” He blew smoke through the corner of his mouth and shrugged. “You break the pact, she dies.”
Neil’s shoulders shook with effort. “Screw that, Fitch. Kill me, I broke the promise,” he shouted as he hauled Alexa up another yard. “Please, take me,” he sobbed. “Take me.”
Alexa held on with three fingers; she was losing her grip. “Use the other hand, Alexa,” Neil screamed in desperation, pulling her up another yard. “It’s going to hurt, but you don’t have a choice.”
Alexa nodded and swung her injured arm over her head, grabbing onto the fence, inching herself up. Shit, she is tough.
Neil swallowed, his arms burning from the exertion. She was going to make it.
Alexa felt the fence shake as Neil’s arms trembled with the effort. He hauled her the final foot to the edge of the cliff. His face was red and contorted in a grimace, his brow shiny as beads of sweat dripped down his nose, an artery throbbing in his temple. He sucked in short breaths through gritted teeth.
Neil pursed his lips. “Give me your hand, Alexa,” he shouted unsteadily, gripping the fence between his fingers and lowering his free hand.
Alexa was hanging on to the fence by her index and middle fingers, trying to grab the fence with the hand of her injured arm. Her fingers started losing their grip, and her heart skipped a beat as she realized she was going to fall. She looked down and wondered if she would black out before hitting the rocks far below.
Screw that. She let go with her injured hand and lifted it up toward Neil.
She wasn’t going to give up now. Their fingertips touched, and Alexa shrieked with the effort, the final ounce of energy leaving her hand as she gripped desperately on to the fence.
Then she lost her grip on the fence and fell.
Alexa jerked to a stop as her shirt ripped tightly around her throat. Neil had caught her by her collar and was hoisting her up. The metal fence plummeted down, slamming against the rock face as it careened past her. She could hear Neil grunt as he concentrated all his energy on lifting her up by her shirt.
She managed to grab his arm. She was unable to hold in a scream as the searing pain stabbed through her shoulder like red-hot daggers, but she was still alive.
Neil managed to grab her with both hands, one on her collar and the other on her belt, and with a loud grunt he heaved her over the side. Then he collapsed onto his stomach, sucking in loud, rasping breaths. Alexa lay next to him, breathing hard, clutching her shoulder.
“I dropped the fdamn GLD, Alexa,” he whispered between breaths.
“Where?”
“Down there, when I caught you.”
She swallowed. “It wouldn’t have helped, no one is close enough to help us,” she whispered back.
Andy Fitch sauntered closer, smiling down at them with taunting grey eyes. “As you wish, Mr. Allen,” he said and raised his Luger. He winked at Alexa.
A shot barked, and Neil’s body bounced up as the shot slammed into his back. Neil struggled into a crouch and then fell onto his back, blood streaming from his mouth and nose.
Alexa strained to get up but collapsed as her vision went blurry. The smell of sulfur drifted toward her nose, and she forced herself to sit up again.
Fitch fired again; the slug exploded into Neil’s shoulder. Another shot reverberated and ripped into Neil’s chest, followed by another three quick barks slamming into Neil’s stomach. He fell backward as his body spasmed, the blood seeping down his chin and onto his neck.
Alexa crawled forward, grabbing hold of his leg. “Neil,” she shrieked as he breathed out a gurgly breath; then his body spasmed once more and went still.
“Bastard,” Fitch said and spat on the ground next to Neil. He leaned down and yanked Neil’s Glock from his holster, examining the gun. “Nice.”
Anderson Fitch turned around and strode toward a classic Lincoln parked in the clearing. “Bring her,” he said to a tall guy wearing a Stetson, jerking his thumb toward Alexa. “And don’t screw up the accident.”
“No!” Alexa shouted in agony, clutching at Neil’s leg, her chest convulsing with painful sobs.
The man nodded and jogged toward her; then he brought a heavy boot down on her temple and her world went dark.
Alexa woke up with a groan. Her shoulder throbbed painfully. A high-pitched note hummed in her head. The sound of cartilage cracked in her ear whenever she moved her jaw. She blinked and slowly lifted her eyes.
Her hands had been tied above her head, and she was hanging suspended from a metal pipe hooked up to a sprinkler system. The rope ate into the raw skin on her wrist as it supported her suspended body weight.
She shifted her weight to her legs. The relief was immediate as the blood flowed back into her hands, the downward pressure instantly reduced from her injured shoulder.
She waited for it.
She gasped, shuddering as a secondary wave of nauseating agony jolted through her body.
Relax. Breathe like you were taught. She clenched her jaw and whimpered softly.
Alexa gritted her teeth and bit into her lower lip. She tasted the metallic warmth as the blood seeped into her mouth and concentrated on that single point of pain—enveloped it with her mind—and then put it to the side, in a tiny black compartment at the recesses of her subconscious, a special room reserved for exceptional situations like these. The mist in front of her eyes slowly cleared as a calming heat spread through her body.
She blinked and scanned her surroundings through the wisps of hair hanging in her face. She was back in the refinery’s basement where the ocelots were fed.
She heard movement behind her, a
nd Anderson Fitch spoke. “Rise and shine, Capitano.” His voice sounded smoke-cured, husky, with an undertone of mockery that riled her intensely.
He ambled to the wall in front of her and casually leaned back against it, chewing on a cigar as he scrutinized her. He removed the cigar and smiled, flicking the ash carelessly to the ground. “You know why you’re here?”
Alexa grunted and shook her head.
He pushed himself off the wall and swaggered toward her, holding a walking cane over his shoulder. He leaned forward and stuck his face close to hers. “Neil bloody Allen, that’s why.” His breath smelled like smoke and bourbon and putrefied meat.
He stood back with an appraising smile, flicked the cigar to the ground, and ground it out with the heel of his boot. “What a lying bastard.”
Fitch circled around her, inspecting her the way a shark would inspect its prey. “He made a promise, Gypsy to Gypsy, which he broke, and now he is dead and you are going to get the punishment that is due to you.”
She sucked in a breath as the jarring memories caused her throat to tighten. It hadn’t been just a bad dream. She locked her eyes on his. “I’m going to kill you,” she snarled.
A bubbly laugh escaped from his mouth, like he had something wet stuck in the back of his throat. He lifted her chin with the pommel of his cane. The yellow ivory was cold, carved into the shape of a rosette. “We’ll see about that,” he said as he pulled back his arm and punched her in the stomach.
Alexa coughed, trying to suck air into her lungs. The pain stabbed through her shoulder as she dangled helplessly by her arms. She steadied herself and then looked up. “That the best you got?” she wheezed.
Fitch’s leathery features contorted into a grin, deep furrows forming half-moons on his brow. “You think you’re tough, gorger bitch?”
She stood doubled over and shook her head, her breath rattling in her chest. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“You all break, sooner or later,” he said with a grin as he lifted his Stetson and brushed his fingers through his grey hair. He walked closer, swinging his cane in front of him.
Alexa growled, lifted her feet off the ground, and lashed out at him. Fitch skipped behind her as he swung back and smashed the cane into her kidney.
She screamed, and her body jerked forward in a painful spasm.
Fitch grabbed her by her throat, undoing the buttons at the front of her shirt while he watched her intently. Alexa felt her face redden as she struggled to breathe. Her upper lip curled up, and she tried to spit in his face. A globule of bloody mucous landed on the front collar of his jacket and his sleeve.
Fitch pushed her away, pulled a red handkerchief from his top pocket, and wiped the blood from his suit. He tsk-tsked, shaking his head. “How ladylike, Capitano.” He slapped her across the face with the back of his hand. Alexa gyrated around on the rope and came to a stop, facing away from Fitch.
He grabbed her wounded shoulder and squeezed, leaned in close to her, his lips touching her ear. “I need some answers from you.”
She whimpered, blinking away the tears.
Fitch swung her back around and ripped her shirt from her pants. He stood back and pulled her shirt open with the tip of his cane, exposing her bra. He undid her belt buckle and then ripped it from the loops. He tossed it aside, stuck his cane underneath his armpit, and with both hands grabbed the side of her pants, yanking them to the ground.
Alexa dangled, whimpering helplessly. He walked closer, hooked a finger inside her panties, yanked them off, and then crumpled them up and put them in his jacket pocket and stood back, nodding appreciatively. “My, my, my. Neil sure was a lucky fellow.”
She swallowed. “What do you want?”
“I need to know what Beck told you.”
“Nothing.”
Fitch raised his eyebrows. “He didn’t tell you why he was arrested?”
“Because you planted snuff films on his laptop.”
Fitch nodded and smiled. “Ah, yes. There are many ways to skin a cat, my dear.”
Alexa sucked in a painful breath. “You set him up.”
“I had to get rid of him. He didn’t want to play nicely. You’ll be glad to know that he committed suicide in jail,” he said with a chuckle. “He couldn’t deal with the embarrassment.”
“Liar!” Alexa shouted.
Fitch swung his arm back and brought the cane down on her backside with a loud smack. “Watch your tone, bitch. I’m in charge here.”
Alexa sobbed as Fitch propped up her chin. “Look at me when I’m talking to you. What else did David Beck tell you?”
She swallowed. “He said you play with your tiny dick,” she whispered, her shoulders jerking up and down.
“What? Speak up, I can’t hear.”
“You shout your own name while having sex,” Alexa growled.
Fitch’s lips pursed into a thin, trembling line, his steel-grey eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh my, isn’t that cute.” Then he burst out laughing. He held on to the rope above her arms for support and slapped his leg. He finally calmed down, giggling as he dried his eyes.
“Not only does she think she’s tough, she aspires to be a stand-up comedian, as well,” Fitch said and punched a fist into her stomach. He brought the cane down on her shoulder with a bone crunching smack. “Now, what the hell did Beck tell you?”
Alexa sobbed. “Nothing,” she whimpered, her voice cracking.
Fitch considered her answer for a moment. “Either you’re loyal as a cattle mutt or extremely stupid,” he said holding up his walking stick in front of her face. “Do you know where I’m sticking this next if you don’t tell me the truth?” He grinned.
Alexa coughed, the right side of her face numb, her vision blurring as her eye puffed up. She bit her lip again and concentrated on the pain; then she slowly looked up. “Screw you.”
Fitch sauntered closer, the cane held up in front of him. He pulled back and slammed the cane down on her back and stomach, walking around her as she dangled helplessly, raining blows on her shoulders and legs, and then finally stopped when her head fell forward, unconscious.
He rolled his shoulders, propped his cane against the wall, and wiped his hands with the red handkerchief. He looked at Alexa’s dangling body, smiled, and said, “No, screw you, Capitano.” He pulled his arm back and landed a solid punch on her stomach. “And all you arrogant gorger bitches.”
Andy Fitch stood leaning against the wall, smoking a cigar. The captain was dangling naked, her head on her chest, her knees bent, swaying gently from side to side. Her body was full of red lesions where he had hit her with the cane. Blood trickled down her face, spattering into small pools on the concrete floor. He had given her a good work over. He hoped that the fun wasn’t over yet.
He couldn’t understand why Gypsy men always fell for the gorger women. They were losing their sense of identity, and he blamed their parents for not instilling the proper Gypsy traditions into their sons. He had taken it upon himself to sort out his own son’s little bastard offspring; that bitch wasn’t going to raise it the traditional way. Best thing to do was to kill it.
He examined Alexa closely. Her shoulders moved up and down as she breathed; she was still alive. He picked up her leather belt and rolled it around his fist.
“Wakey, wakey, Capitano.”
She lifted her head, opened her swollen eyes, and then looked up at him, a soft growl escaping her throat. He recoiled at her hateful gaze. At least the bitch seemed alert; there was still a lot of fun to be had. “The party hasn’t even started, and you’re nodding off already.”
The bitch uttered a guttural roar and lashed out with her legs, trying to kick him in the face.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he said and hammered a fist into her cheek. Her head dropped to her chest and her shoulders jerked up and down as she sobbed. He hit her in the stomach and her body went limp, unconscious once again.
Andy Fitch spat on the ground. “You people come and invade my
town, try to get me convicted, and now you pass out on me when I punish you, bitch?” He felt her pulse. She would come around sooner or later.
He leaned back against the wall and lit another cigar. He noticed Bella saunter into the room from the tunnel, and she rubbed her body against his leg. He knelt down and tickled her chin. She purred loudly, rubbing her head against his hand.
My little moneymaker.
The bitch stirred and moaned. He walked up to her and pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Now you play nice. No more passing out on me, you hear?” he said and squeezed.
She moaned. “Fitch, just stop. This isn’t how you treat an Interpol agent!”
“Oh, please. Who are you fooling?”
She glared at him. He took her other nipple between his fingers and squeezed hard. She shrieked and ripped her head back in pain.
“Tell me what you know, Capitano,” Fitch hissed. “You have other holes that haven’t received a working over. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll curse your own mother for giving birth to you.”
He saw her jaws working, gritting her teeth. She looked at him squarely, her jaws clenched. “Do whatever you need to, you prick,” she hissed. She blinked and steadied her annoying green eyes on him. “But you’re going down, one way or the other.”
This bitch was naive, he thought. He smiled. “Dear Capitano, there is much you do not know.”
She breathed deeply. “Interpol will get you,” she said, forcing her words out in short bursts. She bit her lower lip. It looked like she was going to pass out again.
Fitch grinned. “You forget, my dear Captain. I have friends in high places, as well.” He let go of her nipples, growing bored of the game. “And I pay them well.”
He was growing irritated with the little bitch. He had thought she would have broken by now, like all the gorger women eventually did. He scanned the room, thinking of a way to end this swiftly. He had left the Luger in the car; maybe he could find something to stab her with. Or maybe get Chris to do it, to prove his unwavering loyalty to him.