Four Mercenaries - The Complete Collection

by K. A. Merikan

  His gaze darted to Drake and Boar again, but they were moving far too slowly. If they managed to take Apollo hostage, it would create chaos and give them leverage, but the wild animal below wouldn’t care about the life of its master. Disturbed by the unnatural situation and hungry, it was likely to go for the kill regardless of the events above. With what was at risk, even Drake’s swift movements appeared to be like those of a snail in a pool of tar.

  The lion’s roar forced Clover’s heart into a staccato beat, and he moved before he could even think. Pyro tried to keep holding his hand, but Clover managed to slide it out of the sweaty grip and descended between men and women thirsty for Tank’s blood, jumping to the lower level of the seating gallery.

  He was so frightened even the water he’d drank rose in his throat, urging him to throw up, but if there ever was a time to shake off the terror Apollo had instilled in him, it was now. Tank’s life was at stake. As much as Clover hated what he was about to do, there was no doubt in his mind that it was the right choice.

  The lion swished its tail and took two steps forward, gauging whether Tank was a threat or his next meal. Despite Tank’s size, the danger was palpable. It would only take those teeth digging into an artery for Tank to bleed out in front of the deranged crowd. If that happened, Tank would become yet another victim of Clover’s fight for personal freedom, and he did not deserve such a sacrifice.

  With his heart in his throat, Clover reached the fence under the lowest row of seats, deaf to the screams around him. All he could see was Tank squaring his shoulders, focused on the lion as if he believed himself capable of fighting the beast off.

  Clover climbed over the barrier and jumped to the ledge on the other side before leaping into the arena.

  As soon as his sneakers hit the sand, he pulled off his brown wig, releasing the white hair, and looked up toward Apollo, acutely aware of the lion scowling his way as it assessed the second antelope in its enclosure. The predatory gaze was hot and so sharp Clover felt as if the animal were tasting his blood already, but he had nothing more to lose.

  He couldn’t let Tank die because of him.

  But before he could have completed that thought in his head, Tank came out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?” he asked, watching Clover with bloodshot eyes, even though at this point he couldn’t keep Clover away.

  Clover was here to at least try to save Tank, but when their gazes met after such a long time apart, all he wanted was to hide in the firm chest. He swallowed and offered his lover a soft smile before glancing at the lion, which watched them from the other side of the arena. The animal hadn’t yet made its decision, so if Clover wanted a chance at survival, he needed to reach for it now, no matter how much fear contorted his body on the inside.

  He knew he would die here, but he couldn’t accept Tank’s sacrifice.

  He pulled on Tank and stepped toward Apollo’s box, his gaze fixed on the source of the vilest things he’d witnessed in his life. Now, in the middle of an arena where so many people died horrific deaths tonight, fear was only an afterthought when he called out the name of the man responsible.

  Even the crowd quieted, greedy for fresh human drama about to play out in front of them. “You wanted me! Here I am. I was the one who killed your sister! Take me.”

  The world around him had moved all too fast before, but now it ground to a halt. The scent of blood mixed with that of damp sand choked him, but he was ready to accept his fate, if that was what it took. He’d been dealt a bad hand in life, and there was no reason for him to drag down Tank or anyone else. Tank would hate him for it, but he wasn’t the only man willing to protect his family at any cost.

  Apollo cocked his head, holding a pipe in his hand. “I’ve got you indeed. Exactly where I want you.” He filled his lungs, as if he were about to make a longer speech, but ended up shutting his mouth a split second before Tank yanked at Clover’s arm. Words of protest stilled on Clover’s mouth when the massive bulk of the wild cat pounced the wall just below the box, its mane like a banner of death above sharp claws that narrowly missed Clover’s flesh.

  Tank became a wall between Clover and the predator wanting to snatch the weakest in the herd, but as Clover stumbled back, trying to regain his balance, he face-planted into a man’s chest. Gasping, he jumped back, ready to fight his human opponent, only to recognize Pyro in the dress shirt and tie he’d worn for the event.

  For a moment, reality warped.

  “You thought I was gonna let you go?” Pyro asked, his hand on a flag pole he must have collected on the way. He eyed the lion with a deep frown, as if he were calculating the beast’s next move.

  Tank moved out of the way when the animal swung its giant paw at him, and Pyro made his move, charging at the beast with a roar of his own, like a knight holding a lance.

  The lion opened its jaws, showing off sharp teeth, but before Clover could have stopped Pyro, Tank dragged him away from the noisy confrontation. With his head firmly pressed to the massive chest, Clover realized Tank was ready to be his human shield ‘til the end, but Clover would do the same for him.

  Pyro’s scream pulled him back to reality. He looked over Tank’s shoulder, only to see his other lover running off with the broken pole in hand. The lion dashed behind him, but as Clover was about to fight Tank’s grip, Pyro managed to scramble to the top of the cage, just beyond the lion’s reach.

  Apollo’s insane laughter resonated through speakers. “Fitting end to the lot of you!’

  Clover’s brain swirled with ideas of attacking the beast while it was busy, but when gunfire echoed throughout the arena, spurring the kind of chaos that would have resulted from Apollo’s poison-induced heart attack in their original plan. People climbed up the steep levels of the seating or ran for exits, trampling food, belongings, and those who chose to stay behind, but Clover only had eyes for Drake, who clashed with one of the guards at the entrance to Apollo’s box.

  Clover’s perception turned to slow motion as he watched Drake spin the guard around, only to use him as a shield when two others sent bullets that way. The knife glinted in the bright light, like a violin bow in the hands of a virtuoso, and sent blood soaking into the guard’s T-shirt. But before he could have dropped the rifle he was holding, Drake snatched it from him and packed a whole series of bullets into one of Apollo’s other men. The last one, who’d stood at Tank’s side behind Apollo throughout the event, dashed behind a column, frantic to reload his handgun, but Drake went after him like the embodiment of fury, and smashed his head with the rifle.

  Tank stiffened, pulling Clover with him when the lion turned his attention back to them, but the moment the animal left the proximity of the cage, Pyro jumped back into the sand and stabbed the big cat’s leg with the broken pole before retreating as the beast stumbled after him with a growl that promised death.

  With immediate danger gone, Clover looked to the box again, and his blood ran cold when he spotted a gun in Apollo’s hand. Drake faced him with his teeth bared, and hair loose like a wild black mane, but the elderly man’s arm seemed as steady as ever when he pointed the firearm at him.

  “No,” Clover uttered, squeezing Tank’s arm, but before his heart could have beat three times, a huge form emerged from the side of the box and twisted the gun out of Apollo’s hand. The long wig flew into the air as Boar grabbed the human monster who had turned their lives into a game of live or die, and bashed the white head against the railing.

  Gasps echoed throughout the amphitheatre, and many people stopped mid-way to the emergency exits, unable to help their curiosity. Clover’s feet grew roots when Boar grabbed Apollo as if he were a rag doll and raised him over his head with a roar worthy of the animal stalking the arena.

  Tank pulled on Clover again and moved them both around the perimeter, away from the beast that had once again left Pyro behind, its attention on weaker prey. The huge teeth were a promise of a painful death, so Clover didn’t protest, stiffening when the lion lower
ed his front, preparing for a dash their way.

  Apollo fell into the arena with a desperate cry, breaking the wild cat’s focus as he scrambled to his knees, bleeding heavily into the puffy white beard. Clover was so shocked he didn’t immediately realize what the spectators who remained in the amphitheatre chanted, but it was Boar’s arena nickname.

  “Red Bear! Red Bear! Red Bear!”

  Boar’s face replaced the lion on the huge screen, and he raised his hands in a gesture of triumph, screaming out his rage. He only stopped reacting to the crowd’s enthusiasm when Drake grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the back of the box, to the open exit.

  The lion leapt before Clover’s eyes, but as it descended on Apollo, going straight for his neck, even Tank let go of Clover, staring at the pool of blood spreading through the sand. It was like seeing a cut scene from a movie. It didn’t belong in the script yet felt more satisfying that the real ending. There was no life left in Apollo as the lion finally got to have its feast.

  Clover might have heard bits of applause, but he stopped thinking when a shot echoed through the arena, and the lion went limp on top of his prey.

  “Ben! Stop, listen to me,” Tank screamed out, but the man whom Drake had attacked using the rifle as a melee weapon jumped into the arena like a rabid predator who no longer cared for his life.

  The fresh blood drizzling from the wound on his head enveloped one of his eyes in a red frame that hypnotized Clover even when the bastard rose to his feet and pointed his gun straight at him.

  A scream tore from Clover’s lips when he realized what was about to happen, but he didn’t get to see the gun fire because a body clashed with him from the side and knocked him into the sand. The weight of the other man forced air out of his lungs, but when he rolled his head to the side in an effort to breathe, his gaze caught Tank smashing his fist into Ben’s face. The gun shot into the sand next, but once Tank got his arms around Ben’s head, the bastard’s fate was sealed.

  The body on top of Clover gave a very Pyro-like grunt before rolling off to reveal a familiar face.

  “Jesus,” Pyro mumbled before raising his body to look at something and dropping his head back again. “Fuck.”

  Clover sat up, his head still spinning from the shock of impact, but all worries he might have had about the state of his ribs dispersed into nothingness when he saw blood seep through Pyro’s slacks.

  “No. You’re bleeding,” he uttered helplessly, unsure whether he should touch the bleeding thigh or wait.

  Pyro gave a raspy laugh, and his hand found Clover’s wrist, squeezing it gently. One of his tattooed eyebrows was now visible where the makeup had been wiped off, and his trademark grin was back in place. “It’s not a movie, so I wasn’t wearing a gift from you in that place for protection. Of course I’m bleeding.”

  Tank sank next to them with worry twisting his face. “Shit,” he whispered but didn’t hesitate and unbuckled his belt. Clover’s heart thrashed in his chest like a trapped bird struggling to leap outside and get help for Pyro, but he could only hold his hand while Tank turned the belt into an impromptu tourniquet.

  “You literally fought a lion for me. You shouldn’t have,” Clover whimpered as tears filled his eyes, but Pyro laughed in response.

  “Clo, don’t do that. Your eyes will go red, and you’ll look like a rabbit.”

  Clover wanted to snap back, even though he might have been dead already if it hadn’t been for Pyro, but something creaked behind him, and he looked over his shoulder, awaiting another attack.

  The door that had previously released many of the fighters and victims of the arena opened wide, and Boar bolted their way at a speed Clover had never seen him reach. He was still in shock when Boar kneeled next to them and touched Pyro’s injured leg. His face went pale as death despite Pyro rubbing his hairy forearm with a smile.

  “Don’t worry. Tank says I’ll live,” he told Boar, even though Tank had said no such thing.

  Tank met Clover’s gaze above Pyro, but they all hunched their shoulders when shots once again echoed throughout the emptying arena. One swipe over the galleries above was enough to see three guards fall.

  “We have company. Let’s go,” Drake called out from the open door.

  Hesitation was a distant memory. Tank hauled Pyro to his feet and helped him onto Boar’s back, as if they’d rehearsed this move many times. Clover dragged himself up, still unable to comprehend everything that happened. There was just one thing he knew—they needed to get out of there.

  Even as Tank pulled on his hand, Clover once more looked back at the corpse of the man who’d spent his life orchestrating the suffering of others. Clover’s only regret was that the lion had to die as well. He would have much preferred to watch Apollo being eaten alive. But what counted most was that this chapter in their lives was now closed. Apollo would rot, and with him, all the cruelty he’d enforced on others.

  Tank led the way, and soon enough they all dashed through a web of corridors built underneath the amphitheatre. Clover didn’t ask questions, following their leader through hallways curiously devoid of people, even though each one of them was prepared to fight their way through any adversary. Nobody tried to stop them. The one woman they’d seen skittered away before Clover could have assessed whether she was a prisoner or a member of Apollo’s entourage. There was no time to find out.

  Tank sped up once the corridor changed its angle, creating a mild slope toward the surface. The door at the end needed only a little shove, and as they left the well-lit underground level, stepping into the night, it took Clover’s eyes several seconds to adjust.

  “But, what about the van?” he asked right before he realized that the concrete circle in the middle of a small clearing of the dense woods was there for a reason.

  A helicopter stood right in front of him, its rotor a stark black against the gray clouds, but before he could have asked any more questions, Tank approached a tiny cabin and broke its door. Clover’s heart raced, making his brain pulsate with vivid colors until Drake’s arm found its way around his waist and put him at ease.

  “Adam, what the hell? Where’s the boss?” asked a middle-aged man, whom Tank walked out of the cabin in wrinkled clothes that he’d clearly worn to bed.

  “Shut up and you might live,” Tank hissed, shoving him forward. The man looked at them, his eyes wide with fear as he squeezed a mid-sized duffel bag to his chest.

  “But my clothes—”

  “You’ll return for them,” Tank said, walking the stranger straight to the machine. Clover initially felt sorry for the frightened pilot, but if he worked for someone like Apollo, maybe he didn’t deserve sympathy.

  Hope bloomed deep in Clover’s chest when the door to the helicopter opened. It took less than a minute for their whole group to settle inside, and Clover was grateful for Drake’s continuous presence at his side. Fear remained a living thing in his chest, refusing to let go until the engine came to life, and the helicopter rose.

  Tears welled in Clover’s eyes, but he remained still, knowing it wasn’t because of sadness but relief that they’d all come out of that crazy situation alive. Even Pyro seemed in good spirits, leaning against Boar with his leg lifted.

  “You guys know we have to disappear?” Drake asked, with no emotion in his voice.

  Pyro snorted and hugged Boar’s massive chest. “I needed a vacation anyway.”

  Epilogue – Clover

  Snow creaked under Clover’s boots, and his fingers were freezing, but he couldn’t stop smiling. Since Boar carried the firewood, Clover got to walk Six, their malamute puppy. The ball of fur was completely white, and Boar had told Clover he’d chosen this one because it reminded him of Clover.

  “We should have all gotten one, like the Starks on Game of Thrones.”

  Boar rolled his eyes. “Let’s see how you handle one. He’s gonna grow to half your weight.”

  Clover shrugged, stopping to let Six sniff a bush. “I’m willing to be the attentive u
ncle, but you’ll have to handle him yourself. Unless, of course, we do get a second one. Come on, Boar. Wouldn’t it be amazing? They could pull a sleigh together.”

  “When Six grows up he should be able to pull you in a sleigh anyway.”

  Clover scooted next to the puppy and petted its head. They’d only had the dog for two weeks, and Clover couldn’t get enough of him. He laughed when it rolled in the snow, and he took off his thick glove to let Six lick his fingers with its warm tongue.

  Growing up in Arizona, he never imagined ending up in Alaska, of all places. He’d experienced a harsh winter last year in Oregon, but since they’d moved, Tank kept talking about how they needed to have their own generator, provisions, and a whole shed full of firewood. He’d even stocked up on Vitamin D to help them get through the short winter days. It all felt excessive, since they lived half an hour’s drive from Fairbanks. Clover was pretty sure Tank was on his way to becoming a full-blown prepper, but the fact that Tank still had his arm in a cast could have also played a role in the craziness.

  Spending a whole winter away from trouble and danger would do them all good, so Clover didn’t mind doing extra chores, even if Tank was frustrated he couldn’t help with some of the usual tasks. On the bright side, he kept promising Clover that he would take him camping in the spring, so that was something to look forward to.

  They’d left the house at six and now, just an hour later, it was dark.

  Clover glanced into the stubbornly dark sky. “I want to see the Northern Lights. We’ve been here a month, and still nothing,” he complained.

  “Just enjoy the stars. See there?” Boar pointed up. “The Great Bear.”

  Clover laughed. He couldn’t tell constellations apart, no matter how many times Boar tried to teach him “You’re a great bear.”

  Boar had been through so much in captivity that to see him smile more with each passing day has become one of Clover’s life goals. He didn’t like to speak about it much, so Clover didn’t prod, but the past had left a mark on all of them, and they would have to live with that burden.