Carry On Wayward Son(35)

Claire didn’t expect him to fight back. But now that he knew hurting her wouldn’t bounce back at him, he went after her with a vengeance. Wherever he learned to punch, they taught him almost as well as her sensei. She could barely dodge and block his blows, and she was one of the best in her class.

Crawling away from him, she shook her head, watched blood fly, leaving a red arc on the wood floor. She wanted to give Simon as long as possible to get free of the house, but she didn’t know how much longer she could hold Zach off before one of them was seriously hurt.

One hand clamped around her right ankle and yanked. It would have ruined her, before the man trying to beat her to hell hadn’t healed her leg. Sliding across the floor, she twisted around and up, leading with her fist. It plowed into Zach’s left cheek and knocked him backward.

Before she could take advantage he pushed off the floor, whirling away from her. With a harsh breath she got to her feet and went after him.



*



Annie couldn’t breathe.

The air pressed on her, dragged at her. She closed her eyes. Simon’s arm was solid, real, something she could hold on to as the pressure dragged her under—

“Annie.” The low voice pulled her back up, hands warming her iced skin. “Open your eyes, blondie. I need you to open your eyes.” She wanted to, wanted to look into those clear blue eyes. That desire won out, and she pried her lids apart. “There you are.”

“Hey—handsome.”

He leaned his forehead against hers, let out a shaky breath. “Don’t do that again.”

“Okay.” She inched her hand up, touched his sun streaked hair. “Why don’t you—come and sweep me off my feet.” He lifted her, so carefully it made her heart ache. With a choked sigh, she pressed her face into his throat. “I’m okay,” she whispered, felt his arms tighten in response. “I’m okay.”

Lifting her head to tell him to examine Simon, she let out a curse. He was heading back inside.

“Simon!” He turned at her raw shout, long enough to shake his head before he kept going. “Damn it—Simon—”

“Hang on.” Eric strode up the sidewalk, blocked him just before he stepped inside. “I’d like to take a look at that shoulder.”

“And I’d like you to get the hell out of my way. Now.”

“Simon.” Annie touched his wrist. “You can’t help her like this.”

He backed away, the anger on his face startling her so much she couldn’t talk. “Watch me.”

By the time she got her voice back he slammed the door between them.

“Damn it—” She pushed at Eric’s chest. “Put me down—”

“You are not going after him.”

“Like hell—he’s just going to get himself hurt worse—” A loud snap cut off their argument. More echoed in its wake, from all parts of the house, like the sound of dominoes hitting each other as they fell. Dread coiled through Annie. She reached for the latch, tried it.

The door was locked.



*



The sound of locks clicking over distracted Claire for a second. And Zach used that second to pin her against the wall.

“No one can help you now. He tried to banish me.” Rage sliced through his voice. “You brought him here, to send me back—”

“That was before I knew. I told him, Zach. He didn’t believe me—he wanted to protect us from you—”

“I am not your enemy.”

“You terrified a young girl, trapped us in this house, injured my friend.” Claire looked at him, used the hand clutching his shirt to distract him from her other hand, inching down her side. “What am I supposed to think?”

“But you know—what I am, what I want. And my time is fast running out. I need them, to keep from being dragged back there. Again.”

“I’m sorry, Zach. You can’t have them. I’m so sorry.”

She punched her fist into his injured hip.

With a hoarse scream he toppled—and took her with him. They hit the floor. Hard. Zach gripped her hand when she tried to roll away from him.

“Let me go—”

“Help me.”

His raw plea stopped her fist just inches from his stomach. Jerking free, she sat, wiped at the blood on her chin.

“I am running out of good reasons to even try.” His despair shrouded him, along with a desperate fear that tainted his essence like a spreading stain. “Unlock the doors, Zach, and we will talk—”

“There is no time.” He lunged at her again. This time she was ready. Her fist caught him just under the ribs, doubled him. Gasping, he clutched the floor, lifted his head. “Please—”