Goddess Rising (40 page)

He heard Wes’s sharp intake of breath.

“I understand you’re interested in becoming a photojournalist, Wes.”

Wes just looked at him, not saying anything.

“I happen to have quite a few friends in that world,” Robert continued. “Reuters, AP,
TIME
,
Newsweek
,” he rattled off. “And I guarantee you that a photographer of your talent could have a top-tier placement at graduation if you play your hand right.”

Robert pulled out another sheaf of paper that looked like a legal document.

“What’s this?”

“A non-disclosure agreement,” Robert told him. “Go ahead and read it. But here’s the gist: You will never disclose any private information about my daughter to anyone. You will never publish an article about Samantha or any photos of her anywhere, even after you two are over. And in exchange, I guarantee you will have my assistance, by introducing you to my varying connections upon graduation. How and to what extent will be largely up to you.”

Wes’s mouth set in a thin line. “That’s pretty presumptive.”

Robert chuckled. “Young love is unfortunately more hopeful than realistic.”

“And if I break the agreement?”

“You don’t get your wish,” Robert answered succinctly. “Hell, by the time I’m done blacklisting you, you’ll be lucky to be photographing portraits at Olan Mills, and Sam will have to watch all that potential of yours wash right down the gutter,” he finished frankly. “Not to mention the fact that she will come to resent the hell out of you for breaking her trust.”

Wes’s eyes snapped up.

Robert smiled. “You think my daughter’s the forgiving type, Wes?”

“Jesus,” Wes muttered, pushing a shaky hand through his hair.

“He won’t save you from me, son.”

“This is extortion,” Wes said through gritted teeth.

“No, Wes,” Robert replied. “These are the lengths a father is willing to go in order to protect his child. You’ll understand that one day when you become a father.”

Wes stared at him, his mouth tight. “I’ll tell Sam,” he spat out finally. “She’ll hate you for interfering in her life like this.”

“Maybe,” Robert conceded with a shrug. “But I’ll always be her daddy, Wes. And you’ll just be some guy she dated once.” Robert reached into his jacket pocket, withdrawing a platinum fountain pen.

“Here,” he offered. “You’re going to need this.”

September—Sometime between 2 and 3 a.m., Sunday Morning

Camp Swift, Bastrop County, Texas

S A M A N T H A

S
amantha glanced one
more time at the darkened barracks, trying to judge how quickly she could make it back there. She wasn’t sure what Alejandro was up to, but she’d be willing to bet money he was either going to bust her for being out after hours or he was going to attempt to kick her ass. Neither scenario boded well for her—she really couldn’t risk either outcome. Sam stepped backward one more time, adjusting her stance as she got ready to launch herself into a sprint.

“Where you running off to, pisshead?” Alejandro asked, advancing slowly.

In the darkness, Alejandro reminded her of a panther, tracking her as she moved back a couple quick steps.

“I don’t know what you think you’re going to gain by this, Alejo,” Sam told him, chin coming up. “You and I get caught out of quarters after hours, and we’re both screwed.”

“Who says I plan on getting caught?”

“Who says you’re smart enough not to?” Sam countered, her gaze steady, though her heart was beginning to pound like a jackhammer.

Sam read the danger in his eyes. She could see that he thought any damage to her was worth the risk of getting caught. And she was scared. Really, deeply afraid. Because she’d never fought anyone who truly wanted to hurt her. All her training, all her hand-to-hand combat experience, had been purely athletic and not survival-based.

Alejandro slipped a hand into the pocket of his combat pants, which he wore along with a tight black t-shirt and his combat boots. He stood there, lazily tossing the big rock with his free hand, watching her struggling to stay calm. Sam wondered what he thought he could do to her and get away with. If he threw his infamous fastball at her with that thing and she didn’t dodge fast enough, he could break her bones. No doubt about it.

“You always think you’re the smartest person in the room, don’t you, pisshead?” Alejandro murmured. “You think tonight’s performance entitles you to a spot on the final team?”

A stutter of incredulous laughter popped out of her before she could contain it.

“You nearly drowned me a few weeks ago and almost got away with shooting me at the hostage rescue simulation, and you don’t see me crying about it, do you, Alejo?” Sam scoffed. “So you lost this one. Big deal. Get over it, you whining whiner.” She tossed that last part over her shoulder as she began to saunter off, staying light on her feet in case she was forced to make a run for it.

But the moment of silence that followed made her nervous, and she looked back over her shoulder one last time. Sam read Alejandro’s intent in the way his jaw tightened. In a split second, the rock he held was sailing through the air. She dodged out of the way, but the moment she realized the rock was coming at her far slower than Alejandro could throw it, she understood it had just been a distraction.

“
Shit
—” The word was barely out of her mouth before Alejandro rushed her, tackling her hard to the ground, knocking the wind out of her.

Then she felt it. Hot and excruciating—like getting hit with a lightning bolt.

Sam’s body locked up, frozen inside the agonizing pain. She watched, paralyzed and helpless, as Alejandro smiled, holding the Taser to her abdomen.

Her entire body felt rigid—seemingly locked in suspended animation. Sam was unable to do anything but watch what was happening to her—and as suddenly as he’d tazed her, Alejandro released her. Sam gasped, nailed to the hard-packed earth like a sack of potatoes, her body contorted, the wind knocked out of her while the sensation of pins and needles shot through her muscles from the residual shock. Sam looked up helplessly as he stood over her, his obsidian eyes taunting her as she struggled just to breathe.

“That’s your last warning, pisshead,” Alejandro told her in a low voice. “You withdraw from the competition tomorrow. I don’t care what reason you use. Or the next time, it’ll be much uglier and much more painful. I promise you that. And I
will
leave marks.”

Sam’s muscles vibrated, and she worried her bladder would loosen involuntarily, adding to her humiliation. She’d accidentally touched electric fences at the ranch, but this was a thousand times worse—like being electrocuted underwater, the pain literally shocking and utterly surreal. Alejandro moved away from her, and Sam lay there, prone and debilitated, waiting for her muscles to unclench, willing her body to move.

When Sam finally caught her breath and achieved some semblance of motor function and control back, she rolled to her side slowly and painfully, clenching and unclenching her fists, working the blood back through them, as if they’d fallen asleep.

Alejandro was already fifty yards away, his gait relaxed and lazy, like he was just returning back after a leisurely midnight stroll.

Motherfucker.

Samantha saw red—
blood
red—as her mind and heart filled with a blinding wrath so total that she could actually imagine herself killing him. She’d never wanted to hurt anyone or anything in her life so badly. Hatred and anger propelled her onto her hands and knees, giving her the will to slowly straighten as her body returned to her control. Furious aggression made her rise above the pain.

No way would she live afraid of him anymore.

No way would she be his victim.

I don’t care what it costs me,
she thought darkly. He wouldn’t get away with this.

“That the best you got?” Sam called out, voice hoarse. She forced her body to move, each step painful and hard fought, but she was hell-bound and determined.

Alejandro’s back stiffened. He turned, his face too shadowed to read, but his posture was stiff with surprise as she closed the distance between the two of them.

“You afraid to face me without your toy, Alejo?” Sam taunted, advancing in the darkness, her body becoming hers again, each jerky movement becoming smoother with every step forward. Sam got within twenty feet of him and smiled grimly. “Or are you afraid I’ll kick your ass without it?”

Alejandro sneered and advanced on her until he was just a handful of feet away. “You need a real tune-up, don’t you, pisshead?”

“I’ve had just about enough of your threats and bullshit.” Sam’s chin came up. “You want a piece of me?” she taunted. “Better come and get it, asshole.”

He stepped forward like he was going to punch her hard with a cross, aimed right at her head, but he jerked back mid-swing. Sam realized in that split second he was doing something else entirely—another redirection. He used his half-extended arm to grab her neck as he brought his knee up, catching her hard in the abdomen, right where he’d just shocked the shit out of her.

Sam gasped as he knocked the wind from her diaphragm, but the single residual benefit of being tazed was that she was still a little numb. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the momentum shocked a breathless
oof
out of her.

Alejandro yanked her back up and punched her hard in the side with a wicked uppercut that came all the way from his knees. Sam staggered back, reeling from the sheer power of it. But her body was still in shock, and the adrenaline that usually took a few seconds to kick in was already whooshing through her veins like a freight train. Sam came up far faster than he expected, surprising him.

He flexed his hands, moving toward her with menace in his eyes. “You’re going to be so sorry you ever crossed me, stupid bitch—”

She stepped forward, baiting him, and Alejandro jumped at it, rushing her again. But this time, she was ready for him. Sam used his momentum to parry and sidestep. She caught his wrist and yanked him forward and down, slamming him in the side of his head with her elbow as she jerked him toward the ground. It was a quick, hard blow, delivered with an economy of movement she’d been taught since she was a kid by a father unwilling to let her see her size or gender as an indefensible weakness.

In the terrible seconds Alejandro stumbled back far enough to regroup, Samantha saw the irony in her current predicament. Her father, the most controlling person she knew, had been the very man to teach her everything she knew about standing up and fighting for herself.

Winded but furious, Alejandro came back punching, with a tight, fast combination—
jab—cross—hook
—Sam bobbed and weaved, dodging each hit as quickly as she could. But she let him get close. Close enough to give her the advantage she needed. The moment came when his powerful right cross flew past her face. Sam felt his fist graze her hair. It would have been a knockout blow had it landed, his weight fully behind it as he stepped toward her to complete the punch. Sam used his momentary imbalance to duck and drive her shoulder hard into his ribs. Then she punched him so hard in the balls she could’ve sworn he squealed.

Good luck having children, asshole.

Sam jerked back, bouncing on the balls of her feet, ready just in case he came back for more.

Alejandro collapsed in a heap, cupping himself as he curled into fetal position.

Finish this
, her mind whispered.
Finish it!

Sam dropped to the ground beside him, wrapping one arm around Alejandro’s head and the other around his arm, squeezing him in a painful compression choke, blood and rage pounding out a hard rhythm in her ears.

Alejandro gasped for air like a fish out of water. Sam bent his arm backward, and his gasping turned into a strangled cry as he squirmed and hit out at her with his free hand. But all his squirming only put him more under her control, and Sam squeezed down harder, like a vise, intent on snapping his arm in two.

“Not so tough now are you?” she panted, exerting enormous pressure on the bone, feeling it flex and bend near to breaking. A little thrill coursed through her darkest self at the realization that she was capable of hurting him back—and much,
much
worse. Sam knew in that moment that she’d exacted her retribution and then some. Her grip on him was as tight as an anaconda.

Alejandro’s thrashing became more urgent as he jerked and clawed, desperate to get out of the chokehold. He was strong, but she had an excellent pin and all the leverage from her position. Sam used her hips to crush against his ribs, squeezing more air out as he struggled. She could
feel
his bone bending from her unrelenting pressure. She imagined it snapping—how good that crisp sound would feel, how right after all these months of torture.
I’ve got you, you bastard. And I’m about to finish this shit once and for all—

“Sammy?” she heard Rita called out. “Sammy—
what the fuck?!”

Rita rushed toward them in the darkness, prying and shoving Sam off her cousin. Alejandro gasped loudly in relief, holding his arm as he rolled away.