Encrypted (72 page)

Zach threw a punch, cracking into the man’s nose, sending him reeling.

Scanning the area, Zach came up with no weapons. And that knight was regrouping pretty quickly, yelling for reinforcements. Then Zach saw it. A little black star embedded in a piece of wood. He snatched it from the railing praying that the
T
a
s
er star still had juice. The only problem, the knight was encased in armor. How in the hell was Zach going to get it the guy’s skin?

Then the knight heaved back, raising his broadsword with both arms, exposing his midriff below his chest plate. Zach flung the star, nailing the guy in the belly. However
,
the star didn’t fire immediately
, and
the knight swung the broadsword down, aiming for the crown of Zach’s head.

Then the little
Taser
kicked in, knotting the knight’s muscles, clenching his arms. The broadsword clattered to the ground as the guy fell on his side twitching and flailing.

Now
,
to get to Ronnie.

* * *

Ronnie tried to put the pew between her and
Lino
, but the man went berserk, smashing the wooden bench with a single downward blow.

The monster that had lurked beneath
Lino’s
surface now fully out for the world to see. No more refinement. No more aloof arrogance.
Lino
was nothing more than raw, undiluted, fury.

She backed
away
until she could back
up
no longer. The edge of the altar pok
ed
into her spine.

Lino
lunged forward. Ronnie gasped, clutching her fists so tightly that she popped beads from her gloves.
Lino
retreated seeming awfully pleased with himself. Now he was just toying with her.

“We will rise again,” he sneered, pulling up his congealed lip.

This time he came at her, not toying at all. She tried to duck out from under the attack, but
Lino
caught her by the throat, slamming her against the altar. His burnt hand
was
moist against her neck. She could feel the actual muscles constrict around her windpipe.
Lino’s
scorched finger dug into the flesh. Was he going to choke her
,
or tear her trachea from her throat?

Ronnie’s hand groped behind her
,
trying to find something, anything
,
to use against him. One finger touched an object only it was just out of reach. Her lungs screamed for oxygen as her sight constricted down.

With her other hand, she ripped at
Lino’s
arm, gouging at his arm, shredding flesh under her fingernails. His grip wasn’t
like
a vis
e. It
was
a vis
e. Only then did Ronnie realize
that
this might truly be the end. She would just be one more body they would find after the self-destruct did its job.

Closing her eyes
,
Ronnie tried to picture Zach, but her mind was past concentrating on anything else except getting air.

Then she heard the clattering of hooves against stone. She didn’t think that was one of the “going to the light” events. Cracking open her eyes
,
she watched a white horse, a charger
,
really carrying her knight in shining armor. The armor glowed
—
or was it the loss of oxygen?

“Ronnie!” Zach shouted, but they all knew he would be too late.

Lino
redoubled his efforts, forcing her back, clamping off her windpipe. Even in his state
,
he could sense victory. The only problem?
Lino
had forced her an inch closer to the cross on the altar. Using the tip of her fingernails
,
she coaxed the silver object to tip over into her hand.

With the last of her strength, Ronnie gripped the cross, pulling it from its stand, driving the end through the exposed muscles of
Lino’s
abdomen. The silver
sank
in with a slurping sound.
Lino’s
grip squeezed all the tighter
and
then let go.

“That is for Francois,” Ronnie choked out as
Lino
fell to the ground, the cross sticking out from his belly like a flag.

Dizzy
,
Ronnie stumbled toward Zach as he dismounted.

As oxygen finally reached her lungs, Zach caught her before she hit the stone.

“Hey, sexy,” he said brushing back her hair with his gloved hand.

Ronnie just smiled her answer, mainly because she couldn’t use her throat yet. Catching her breath, Ronnie felt her chest rise and fall against the metal chest plate of Zach’s armor. Granted
,
it was a little early in the relationship for dress
-
up, but still.
Damn
.

“Hey there, yourself,” she responded.

Time to get off her butt. Ronnie pushed off the altar
,
although her muscle
s
still shook.

“Take it slow,” Zach said stead
y
ing her.

The only problem with that proclamation was the floor rumbling beneath them.

* * *

Zach grabbed Ronnie and tucked her under him as an explosion rocked the castle. He let the back of his armor take a pounding from the shattered glass, mortar
,
and rock. Finally
,
the debris stopped, only to have another explosion sound from across the courtyard.

“You did reset the auto-destruct timer for five minutes instead of three, right?” Ronnie asked.

Oh. Crap. He knew he’d forgotten something. A big something.

Ronnie must have read his response in his face
,
because she rose to her feet. “We have
got
to get out of here.”

No kidding. The horse had turned tail after the first explosion and was long gone. Rubble and rock blocked the only entrance to the chapel.

“Come on,” Ronnie said grabbing his hand as she climbed up onto the altar.

“What are you
—?
”

Despite a bruised neck and about a hundred little nicks and scratches, Ronnie beamed back at him as she pointed to the one remaining window. Above them soared the archangel. What exactly did that have to do with them
,
though?

She urged him upward until they stood on the altar, looking out the broken lower window to the raging sea below.

“Whoa,” he said until explosion after explosion rang out and the very foundation of the castle shook.

As a fireball
whooshed
toward them, they ran down the altar and leapt though the window. The force of the blast caught them, hurling them out over the ocean. For a moment it felt like they were going to fly forever, then that nasty gravity kicked in and they plummeted down the cliff.

Somehow in it all, they never lost hold of each other’s hand
s
. That is
,
until they hit the frigid water. Zach gulped a breath before going under. Next to him
,
Ronnie plunged into the water
, and
then buoyed back up. Zach just kept sinking.

The armor. Trying to stay calm he tried to grope for the ties
,
but his fingers refused to loosen the leather ties. He kicked hard
,
trying to overcome the fifty pounds of added weight
—
to no avail. Zach could barely see Ronnie’s shoes anymore as she broke the surface.

At least she was safe.

* * *

Ronnie gasped for breath, spitting out seawater. Explosions still rang out above them. The Hidden Hand apparently took their self-destruct mechanisms very seriously. So much the better.

Shivering, Ronnie spun around in the water looking for Zach. Where
was
he? And where in the hell was the helicopter? Quirk? The pilot? Then she felt something brush her shoe. Sucking in a deep breath, Ronnie dove into the chilly water.

The storm had churned up the sea
,
taking visibility down to almost nothing. With the exception of Zach’s silver armor that glowed nearly as brightly as it had in the chapel. Very heavy armor. She swam down beside him as he kicked furiously
,
trying to get to the surface.

Grabbing the armor by the shoulder, she added her strength to the effort. Using every last bit of verve they had left, she got him to the surface. His face broke the water next to her, gasping
and
sputtering. Then he started sinking again.

No!

She blew out five times fast
,
then gulped a breath
,
and headed down.

Zach tugged on a strap, showing her what they needed to untie, but the leather knots had swelled in the water
,
making
them
nearly impossible to undo. Finally
,
as his face blotched, trying not to take a breath, Zach pushed her away.

Ronnie shook her head. He was
so
not giving up.

Zach stopped kicking
,
though. There was no way she could get him back to the surface without his help. His body sunk in the water. Damn him and
his
stupid idea of sacrificing himself.

Then her eye caught a glimmer of gold at his waist. Screw untying the leather. Ronnie grabbed the Khan’s blade and sliced at the ties. She only needed to get one side free. Bubbles tumbled from Zach’s mouth. In another few seconds
,
he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself from taking a breath.

Finally
,
the leather gave way and the breastplate tilted, allowing Zach to duck under it. Side by side
,
they struck for the surface. Even with wind and rain lashing their faces, Ronnie had never been so glad to face a storm.

“Look,” Zach sputtered, pointing up.

Above the conflagration that used to be the Hidden Hand’s castle, a huge, glittering symbol rose. One like none she had seen before. Then
,
just as quickly
,
it dispersed along the wind.

“What?” Zach started
,
then spit out some seawater. “What did it say?”

“I have no idea,” Ronnie replied
,
bobbing along with the waves. “No idea at all.”

“Where is the chopper?” Zach asked as his teeth chattered.

That was pretty much the sixty
-
four
-
thousand
-
dollar question, wasn’t it? Which of course
,
she did not have the answer to either.

So now that they didn’t have to worry about getting crispy-fried
,
they had to be concerned with acute, fatal hypothermia.

Awesome
.

* * *

Quirk pointed out the front windshield of the two-engine seaplane. “There! I think that’s them.”

The only response he got from the pilot was a grunt as the plane banking starboard. Which was more than enough for Quirk. He hadn’t even bothered to ask the pilot what happened to the helicopter
,
or where he’d gotten the seaplane. Quirk liked to keep the mystery alive in their relationship.

Making it look like there weren’t nearly
enough
hurricane
-
strength winds, the pilot brought them down low over the waves, then landed softly on the ocean. Water sprayed out behind them as they slowed, pulling the plane right next to bobbing swimmers.

Quirk hopped out of the copilot’s seat and opened the hatch door.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said
,
but then Ronnie frowned that frown.

Dog paddling in frigid ocean water was not her best look.

He helped her climb onto the pontoon and into the cab, suddenly regretting taking off the wet suit. Zach made it halfway up before nearly falling backward. Great. More sloppy wet hands all over his new sweater. Alas, fashion must, under only the
direst
of circumstances, take a backseat to function. Darn it.