Fighting Chance (2 page)

“Is Bruce giving you a hard time again?” her friend asked
her worriedly. “I can talk to him, if you want me to.”

Mahoney waved away her suggestion, and opened the
mini-fridge to get an icy bottle of water. “No worries,” she assured the
younger woman. “I’ve already handled him.”

Jessica flopped back on the small, padded chair in the
corner of the trailer as she regarded her friend. “I don’t know about you, but
I’m exhausted. I wish I could change out of this damn uniform so I can shower
and go get some dinner, but Mike wants to shoot the love scene before we break
for the night. It will probably be another late night where I don’t get back to
the hotel until after 1 am,” she lamented, rubbing crankily at the smudged soot
stains that the makeup artist had painstakingly applied to her face.

A wry grin quirked at Mahoney’s lips as she twisted the cap
off her water. “It sucks to be you, Jess. I’m done for the day. I don’t have to
be back until noon tomorrow for the fight scene, so I can go back to my room
and soak in that ridiculously big tub until I’m nothing more than a wrinkly
prune.”

Jessica shook her head in mock disgust, but her bright eyes
lit up with excitement. “How did the stunt go? Since you’re sitting here and
not being rushed to the hospital in five pieces, I’m assuming it went great.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I made you
look like a total badass. When they get done digitally adding your face and the
FX to the RPG, the theaters will ring with cheers for you.”

Instead of the happiness she expected, Mahoney was bemused
by the sad and disappointed look on Jessica’s face. “What did I say wrong?” she
asked her friend with confusion.

Jessica’s pale, delicate fingers worried the stars sewn onto
the chest of her uniform. Finally she answered, “I don’t want them to cheer for
me because of special effects and the actions of someone else. I want to
earn
their cheers. I want to be the one riding the motorcycle and fighting in
the action scenes. I’m tired of having to step back just when it starts to get
exciting.”

Mahoney sighed heavily and braced her forearms across her
knees to study her young friend. She wasn’t used to having to choose her words
carefully, but she struggled with what to say so that she didn’t hurt Jessica’s
tender feelings. “For starters, the production company’s insurance carrier
won’t let you put yourself in harm’s way. Not to mention the stuntman’s union
would cause a ruckus if an untrained actress decided to take away jobs from the
professionals. On top of all that, you don’t have the years of training and
conditioning needed to not only perform the stunt successfully, but to deal
with the fallout if it isn’t. This is dangerous stuff, Jess. We’re talking
broken bones and contusions.”

Jessica blinked her eyes rapidly to keep the gathered
moisture at bay as the truth of her friend’s words sank in. “I just… I just
want to be strong like you. You’re not afraid of anything and you can defend
yourself if you need to. I’m just a wimpy girl who hides behind others when
shit gets real.”

Mahoney felt her heart go soft at the heartbroken tone in
Jessica’s voice. “Aw, dammit, Jess,” she sighed, rubbing her hand over her
face. “I may be strong in body, but you are strong where it counts. You have a
big heart full of compassion and you make others feel good about themselves.
I’m just a jerk with an attitude problem who thinks I can solve all my problems
with violence. I am so prickly that I haven’t had a date in over a year, and
the only ones that ask me out are meatheads who want to try to ‘put me in my
place,’” she replied, tossing her head toward the door where Bruce was standing
guard outside.

A lone tear escaped Jessica’s eye to track across the thick
makeup on her face. “And the only people who ask
me
out are sleazy
Hollywood playboys who just want to be photographed with the new hot starlet on
their arm. They don’t care about me as a person. They only care about what my
fame can do for them,” she added, her voice dripping with venom. “But if I
could learn to do some of my own stunts, they would have to treat me with
respect, right? I can show them all that I’m more than just a pretty face.”

“You are already more than a pretty face, Jess!” Mahoney
insisted. “Haven’t you heard anything I’ve been saying? You are smart, funny,
down-to-earth, incredibly talented, and have so much to offer. Stop putting
yourself down. I don’t like it.”

Jessica chewed her lip, scraping away a layer of lipstick as
she regarded her friend carefully. “I promise I will let this go if you do one
thing for me.”

Mahoney narrowed her slanted eyes and searched her friend’s
dancing eyes for a clue. “You know I can’t tell you no, but I reserve the right
to protest.”

Her wide, blue eyes brightened with excitement. “I want to
hire you to teach me how to fight.”

Mahoney groaned loudly and threw her head back in defeat.
She counted to five and took a deep breath, buying time to figure out how to
get out of her bargain. Finally, she sat back up and bent a stern look at the
fresh, lovely face of the young woman. She already knew her friend had a
stubborn streak a mile wide, so the only option she had left was to shape the
terms to her advantage.

“Fine, but I have conditions,” she capitulated. Before
Jessica could do more than clap her hands with glee, she added sternly, “Number
one, I will not accept payment from you. I have more money than I can use as it
is. Two, I will not teach you how to fight.” She silenced her friend’s outraged
objection before it could get started. “I will teach you self-defense. It is
completely different than fighting, but it will keep you safe and give you the
power you need to be in control. We will meet as often as you want and as long
as you want, providing both of our schedules are free. Deal?”

Before she could change her mind, Jessica jumped out of her
chair and stuck her hand toward Mahoney and agreed. “Deal!”

Before they could complete their firm handshake, the deep
rumble of Bruce’s voice floated through the metal walls of the trailer. They
couldn’t make out his words, but his voice continued to rise in agitation until
his voice boomed, “I said, STOP!”

The hair on Mahoney’s arms stood on end, and a feeling of
dread washed over her. She had learned a long time ago to never ignore her
instincts, and they were screaming that danger lurked right outside that door.
Grabbing Jessica by the arm, she shoved her to the back of the trailer, and
pushed her behind the overstuffed chair.

“Get down and hide!” she growled, waiting only long enough
to ensure that the frightened actress complied.

The unmistakable sounds of a fight filtered through the
walls as grunts and the sounds of fists hitting flesh spurred her into action.
Her eyes raced around the trailer looking for weapons, but there was nothing to
be found. Her eyes landed on a wooden-handled broom propped in the corner where
the hairdresser had left it after trimming her wig to more closely resemble
Jessica’s hair. She snatched it, braced it against the floor, and brought her
heel down to snap the bristled end off leaving jagged splinters in its place.

A heavy weight slammed against the side of the trailer
causing it to shake before complete silence descended outside. When Bruce
didn’t immediately assure them that it was all clear, she knew that he had lost
the fight. A frightened whimper reminded her of her duty, and she whispered to
Jess, “Hush. No matter what happens, do not make a sound.”

Mahoney faced the door, bracing her feet and clenching the
erstwhile staff with white knuckles. She didn’t have to wait long until the
door opened slowly. The trailer sagged under the weight of the man who
carefully peered around the doorframe to scout the interior. His eyes met
Mahoney’s and widened in surprise to see her standing there brandishing a
weapon. Not waiting for him to make his intentions clear, Mahoney darted
forward and brought the full weight of her body down on the man’s head with the
solid wood stick and then kicked forward with her combat boot square in his
face to send him flying out the door.

He landed with a harsh grunt and several growled words in a
language she had never heard before. She took two seconds to scan the area and
saw three men, including the one on the ground, all dressed in the same shirt
Bruce was wearing. Bruce was out cold on the ground, and she only hoped that he
was still alive. Slamming the door shut, she raced into action.

“Jess! Call 911 and get the police here, pronto. There’s
some goons outside dressed like security, but I’ve never seen them before. I
can hold them off until help gets here,” she hissed, already unplugging the
mini fridge and dragging it over to brace against the door. It wouldn’t hold
them for long, but it might buy them a few precious minutes.

Her voice full of panicked tears, she cried, “I already
tried! My phone isn’t getting a signal. They must have a jammer with them!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Mahoney cursed, her mind racing to come
up with options.

A hard weight threw itself against the door sending the
fridge flying across the trailer to crash into the wall and the door was yanked
clean off its hinges. Mahoney’s heartbeat began thrum, sending adrenaline
coursing through her veins. Their only way out was through that door and the
three men now crowding into its opening.

She braced herself, watching the men carefully. They were
big bastards, too. She judged them to be well over six feet tall, maybe close
to seven, since they had to duck to keep their heads from brushing the ceiling.
The man in front eyed her warily as she brandished the staff. His skin was
deeply bronzed, but his eyes were eerily light gray, almost seeming to glow in
the shadows of the darkening sky coming through the open door. Her eyes flicked
quickly to the other two men, noticing that they also had the same coloring,
but their eyes were different shades of the pale, ghostly light. They were all
three so thickly muscled that the stolen shirts seemed painted on their chests
and the width of their bodies stretched and distorted the white lettering.

The man she had kicked was glaring at her angrily as he ran
his hand across his nose to wipe away the dark stains of blood. The third man,
easily the biggest of the three, watched the scene before him with almost
casual disinterest with his thick arms crossed over his chest. She took a quick
moment to appreciate his rugged handsomeness with his closely shorn hair and scraggly
beard. She had always been a sucker for a good beard. Too bad she was going to
have to hurt him.

The man on point took a step toward her and she edged
forward to halt him. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but I
suggest you leave now before you regret it,” she hissed threateningly.

The two men in front shot a confused look to their leader
and spoke a few words of a foreign language. Mahoney realized that he must be
the leader of this farce, and narrowed her eyes when his pale green gaze met
hers. A small twitch at the corner of his mouth had her seeing red. He was
laughing at her!

He gave a brief nod of his head and the man in front once
again turned toward her. Her eyes watched as the muscles in his thighs bunched,
and she flew into action when he charged her. Wielding her staff with deadly
accuracy, she brought the weapon down on the side of his head right where his
ear was and spun low to sweep his legs out from under him. Not stopping to see
if he was still moving, she twirled the staff and brought it down on his chest
to puncture his shoulder with the jagged end of the broken handle.

She danced back away from the men and resumed her ready pose
as the man bellowed and snarled words she couldn’t understand. The soft,
muffled sounds of Jessica’s tears reached her, but she refused to turn and
check on her. All traces of a smile were gone from the bearded man’s face as he
studied her with shrewd eyes. Jessica’s sobs were getting louder, and Mahoney’s
stomach dropped when his eyes left her and focused on the chair behind her.

With a few terse words to his injured men, he stepped aside
as they made their way back out of the trailer. Her heart began to lift with
hope, but soon dropped when he reached to the waist of his pants and pulled out
a small black object. It didn’t look like any gun she had ever seen before, but
she wasn’t about to stop and ask questions.

In a flurry of movement, Mahoney darted forward twirling the
staff and lunging at the mountainous man in front of her. Faster than his goons,
he darted and dodged each attack while continuing to advance on her. In
desperation, she spun the staff and brought it down on the hand holding the
weapon with a sharp crack. He didn’t drop it like she hoped, but she was
slightly mollified when he spit out what sounded like a curse.

With her chest heaving for air, she growled, “This is your
last warning. I’ve been nice up until now, but if you don’t leave, I will hurt
you.”

Again with the slight lift of the lips. In fragmented,
heavily accented English, he replied, “I like your spirit. I will be taking
you, too.”

Mahoney felt the blood rush out of her face at his words.
Before she could bring her staff up to attack, however, he pressed a button on
the device in his hand. A bright flare of florescent light blinded her eyes a
split second before a jolt of electricity seized her body. Then there was
nothing but blackness.

Wakefulness came to her slowly and had her fading in and out
of consciousness. Every time she thought she could make it to the surface, the
pounding in her head had her diving back for the depths. There was something
important she was supposed to remember, but it slipped between her fingers like
grains of sand.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she swam toward
the surface of her mind, but hesitated to wake fully. She felt light, cool
touches across her face and twinges of pain as the bobby pins and clips were
pulled gently to free her hair from the hated wig. The low hum of machinery
droned in the background, almost lulling her back to sleep, but the rumble of
voices kept her from falling back into darkness.

“What is the purpose of this false hair, Commander?” a
lilting feminine voice inquired close her head.

“I believe they call it a ‘wig’ in her English language,” a
deep, familiar voice answered. “According to their records, it is used
primarily as a beauty enhancement or for those suffering from a grave illness
that causes their natural hair to fall out.”

Soft, gentle fingers combed through her chin-length, silky
black hair. “I know she carries no illness at the present, or else the scans
would have alerted me. Her own natural hair is far lovelier than the hideous
‘wig’ thing.”

An amused snort came from the foot of her bed. “She was
dressed identically to the target and stood before her as a protector. I can
only assume that she was dressed in such a way as to be a decoy. I cannot
fathom how they knew we were coming. There were no mentions of our craft on any
of their communications.”

The delicate touches continued across her face, gently
probing the bones before moving downward to touch on her right arm. “I am
concerned, Commander. Though the scans show no trace of illness, it has found
evidence of abuse to her muscular and skeletal structures.”

“Explain,” his answer was swift and harsh.

The faint sounds of beeping floated across the empty space
before the lyrical sounds of the voice continued. “Look at the scans. You can
see healed fractures here and here on the bones of her left cheek and eye
socket. That is only the beginning. The muscles that are highlighted in red
have been stretched or torn before they were allowed to heal. The areas highlighted
in blue are scars and abrasions marring her skin. In total, there are 47 healed
breaks and fractures to her bones from the top of her head to her toes.”

“What is this metal object here?” his voice questioned.

“That appears to be a medical device to shore up a weakened
bone from a bad injury. Their medical technology is still in the primitive
stages. They have not even advanced to using cellular reproduction in order to
heal wounds,” she sniffed, clearly unimpressed.

“Hmm. And this small, white prong here? What is its intended
purpose?” he grumbled, curiosity lacing his voice.

The female cleared her voice and paused before answering.
“According to their international database, it appears to be a treatment
fashioned of plastic called an intrauterine device. It is a method of
preventing reproduction while also stopping the monthly flow of blood that
precedes the period of ovulation.”

Anger simmered in his voice when he growled, “Who sterilized
her? Can it be reversed?”

A small chuckle escaped the female’s mouth. “You must
remember our research, Commander. Humans number in the billions, so it is not
unheard of for their women to choose to remain sterile. Many of their women
plan to conceive at a time of their own choosing, and will use a contraceptive
until they feel the time is right to create new life.”

“Proceed with corrective treatment and remove the metal and
plastic from her body. It is unnatural,” he ordered, his tone brooking no
argument.

She gave one anyway. “I agree that the pin should be removed
and the bone restored, however, I will not remove the contraceptive device
unless she chooses to do so. She has already been forcibly removed from her
home and will have many obstacles to overcome thanks to your stubbornness. I
will not take this decision away from her, too,” she answered, her own voice
full of resolve.

A deep growl sent Mahoney swimming for the surface, her body
fighting to regain consciousness in an effort to protect the woman from the
wrath of the angry male. A beeping alarm caused a flurry of movement.

“She is starting to wake, Commander,” the female reported,
her voice harried. “You must leave so that I can continue the treatment.”

“Report immediately when it is finished,” came his terse
reply.

Mahoney struggled to open her eyes, fighting off the waves
of pain pounding through her head. A blurry shadow bent over her face and cool
fingers traced over her cheeks. “Back to sleep, young one. You will feel much
better when you next wake.”

And the darkness swallowed her again.