"So you came back from the dead too," she hissed.
"You never left my dreams," Giordino said, puckering his lips and sending her a kiss.
"A pity you survived only to die in my house--"
A mistake. Boudicca wasted the half-second with unnecessary talk. Giordino was on her like a cattle stampede, legs bent, feet extending as they came in contact with Boudicca's chest. The impact doubled her over with a gasp of agony, but incredibly, she somehow retained her stance and clamped her hands around Giordino's wrists. She hurled herself backward over the desk, pulling him with her until she was lying, back against the floor, with Giordino face-down on the desktop above her, seemingly defenseless with his arms stretched out and locked in front of him.
Boudicca looked up into Giordino's face. The evil grin came back on her lips as she held her victim helpless in a steel grip. She increased the pressure and bent his wrists with the intention of breaking them with her Amazon strength. It was a shrewd move. She could render Giordino disabled while shielding herself with his body until she could retrieve a revolver Arthur Dorsett kept loaded inside a bottom desk drawer.
Pitt, waiting for a signal from his friend to shoot, could not line up the automatic on Boudicca under the desk. Barely conscious, it was all he could do to keep from collapsing, his vision still unfocused from the blow to the forehead. Maeve was huddling against him now, her arms clasped around her sons, shielding their eyes from the brutal scene.
Giordino seemed to lie there immobile, as if accepting defeat without fighting back, while Boudicca kept bending his wrists slowly backward. Her silk robe had fallen away from her shoulders, and Maeve, who stared in awe at those massive shoulders and bulging muscles, having never seen her older sister unclothed, was stunned at the sight. Then her gaze drifted to the body of her father sprawled on the carpet. There was no sadness in her eyes, only shock at his unexpected death.
Then slowly, as if he'd been conserving his strength, Giordino pulled his wrists and hands upward as if curling a set of weights. Incomprehension followed on the heels of shock in Boudicca's face. Then came disbelief, and her body quivered as she exerted every trace of strength to stop the relentless force.
Suddenly, she could grip his wrists no more, and her hold was broken. She immediately went for Giordino's eyes, but he had expected the move and brushed her hands aside. Before Boudicca could recover, Giordino was across the desk and falling on her chest, his legs straddling her body, pressing her arms to the floor. Held immobile by strength she had never expected, Boudicca thrashed in frantic madness to escape. Desperately, she tried to reach the desk drawer containing the revolver, but Giordino's knees kept her arms effectively pinned against her sides.
Giordino flexed his arm muscles, and then his hands were around her throat. "Like father, like daughter," he snarled. "Join him in hell."
Boudicca realized with sickening certainty that there would be no release, no mercy. She was effectively imprisoned. Her body convulsed in terror as Giordino's massive hands squeezed the life from her. She tried to scream but only uttered a squawking cry. The crushing grip never relaxed as her face contorted, the eyes bulged and the skin began turning blue. Normally warm with a humorous smile, Giordino's face remained expressionless as he squeezed ever more tightly.
The agonized drama lasted until Boudicca's body jerked and stiffened, the strength drained out of her and she went limp. Without slackening his hold around her throat, Giordino pulled the giant woman off the floor and draped her body across the top of the desk.
Maeve watched in morbid fascination and shock as Giordino tore the silk robe from Boudicca's body.
Then she screamed and turned away, sickened at the sight.
"You called it, partner," said Pitt, his thoughts struggling to adjust fully to what he beheld.
Giordino made a slight tilt of his head, his eyes cold and remote. "I knew the minute she socked me in the jaw on the yacht."
"We've got to leave. The whole island is about to go up in smoke and cinders."
"Come again?" Giordino asked dumbly.
"I'll draw you a picture later." Pitt looked at Maeve. "What have you got for transportation around the house?"
"A garage on the side of the house holds a pair of minicars Daddy uses-used for driving between the mines."
Pitt swept one of the boys up in his arms. "Which one are you?"
Frightened of the blood streaming down Pitt's face, the youngster mumbled, "Michael." He pointed to his brother, who was now held by Giordino. "He's Sean."
"Ever flown in a helicopter, Michael?"
"No, but I always wanted to."
"Wishing will make it so," Pitt laughed.