The Love of Money II

“Dammit!” I swore and rushed back in before she could fully recover, intent on knocking her the rest of the way off balance.

Unfortunately, Liz had recovered just enough to see me coming. At the last second, she dropped low and drove into me like a linebacker. Her shoulder slammed into my torso, her arms wrapped around me, and she bulldozed me away from the armoire until we crashed into the shelving Sachiko and I had been sitting against. The impact knocked the breath out of me. Then she lifted me and dumped me onto the waist-high shelves, setting off another burst of stars behind my eyes.

I blinked, managed to peer through the haze of color to see Liz’s elbow come crashing toward my face, and managed to roll out of the way in the nick of time.

The scream from Liz was brutal.

I cried out as I hit the ground, but no matter how bad the landing felt, it was nothing compared to the pain Liz must have felt when her elbow smashed into the metal top. I cringed just thinking about it.

Wasting no time, I scrambled into a crouch and looked for my tranquilizer gun. If she was here to kill me, then fuck saving my shot. I couldn’t do anything for the girls if I was dead.

I was only half upright when movement flashed in my peripheral vision, and I barely got my hands up in time to catch Liz’s foot before it planted itself in my face. If I’d had more than a few milliseconds, I might have appreciated how much my reflexes had improved over the last few months.

Still searching for my gun, I did the only thing I could think of to buy myself some time. I staggered backward, still holding Liz’s ankle. My gun had to be on the other side of her, so if I could swing her leg around like a club and send her stumbling back, maybe I could rush past her and—

Suddenly, existence became nothing but pain as Liz’s free foot drove straight into my groin. It felt like my balls had just been crushed between two cinder blocks.

I stumbled away, able to do nothing but clutch myself and try not to fucking cry. The pain was so bad it almost felt unreal. I heard myself make some kind of noise, but it sounded like it was coming from someone else. I screwed my eyes shut and had the overwhelming urge to curl up and die.

And yet ... I wasn’t about to just give Liz an opportunity to end it.

I peered through tears of pain, trying to see her ... to make sure I could put some distance between us until I could get my bearings.

And then I caught sight of her, starting to rise from where she’d fallen prone after kicking me.

Only, she wasn’t alone.

Sachiko had appeared behind her, gripping the barrel of her gun in both hands like a club. My vision steadied just in time to see her bring the stock down at Liz—only for the bodyguard to catch it one-handed and rip it from her grasp. In the same motion, Liz lashed out with the gun, catching Sachiko at the ankle and sending her crashing to the floor with a gurgling cry.

Liz stood the rest of the way up, tossed the gun aside, and started toward me ... only to be stopped by Sachiko, who scrambled back to her feet and threw herself at Liz’s back.

The amazon grabbed Sachiko by the hair and ripped her off. Then she seized the smaller girl’s arm, wrenched it hard behind her, and gave it one vicious extra jerk while bracing her shoulder with the other hand.

Sachiko bellowed in pain.

“He told you to leave,” Liz growled and then tossed her aside like a rag doll. Sachiko rolled across the floor and immediately curled into a fetal position. Liz turned and started stalking over to me.

I blinked the tears away as my fingers closed around a handful of loose dirt at my feet. Then I straightened, wincing as pain radiated from my crotch, and hobbled toward her with my teeth clenched.

She reached for my head, maybe to grab my hair, and I snapped my hand up. She adjusted instantly and caught my wrist, stopping my hand just short of her face.

But not the dirt I’d palmed.

That hit her straight in the eyes.

“Gah!” Liz yelped, squeezing them shut.

I yanked my hand free and took a page from her playbook, grabbing a fistful of her pink hair and slamming her head into the table as hard as I could. Stainless steel rang through the greenhouse like a gong.

I hauled her up maybe a foot and smashed her head down again.

Then I felt one hand on my arm, then another, and Liz twisted into some brutal arm-lock thing that forced my whole limb straight. Pins and needles shot through my fingers, and my grip tore loose from her hair. She snarled wordlessly and used the hold to wrench me forward, forcing my face down onto the table as she straightened.

I tried to push myself up, but my arm exploded with pain. Then she drove a blow into the back of my head that slammed my forehead into the tabletop.

“Stay the fuck down!”

I turned my head to the side and glared up at her. It was so dark, and with her head bowed, I couldn’t see her eyes ... but I could feel her stare drilling into me.

I was twisted at a bad angle, my feet threatening to slide out from under me. As I tried to straighten, one of them brushed against hers, and an idea hit me.

My free arm came up in a wild swipe, and she took the bait, knocking it aside.

That was all I needed.

I kicked at her knees as hard as I could.

I felt a slight pop, and then her footing gave way completely as she yelped in surprise. Better still, as she dropped, her head smacked the edge of the table one more time on the way down.

Still clinging to my arm, she dragged me to the floor with her. Fortunately, the hold wasn’t as tight as it had been, and I managed to wrench free. She lashed out at once, grabbed the leather strap across my chest, and hauled me down on top of her before trying to wrap an arm around my head.

I headbutted her in the face like I’d done to Tyler all those months ago.

She grunted, turned her head, then wrapped both her muscled arms around mine and crushed my face against her chest.

I drove a punch into her ribs, but I couldn’t get the power I wanted behind it, and she had too much mass besides. It felt like punching a firm mattress.

Since I needed to breathe, and since my throbbing testicles suggested I start fighting dirtier, I grabbed a handful of breast through her thin tunic and twisted as hard as I could. It wasn’t a titty twister—I was cranking a radio dial, and I was turning it to twelve.

“Gaaah!” she bellowed at last, her grip loosening enough for me to wriggle free.

I sucked in a breath, and then we were rolling and wrestling across the floor in a blur of limbs. She got on top of me. I got on top of her.

She tried to headbutt me, but I managed to turn just enough that she buried her face in the crook of my neck instead. I wrapped an arm around her throat and pinned her there, her breath warm against my ear.

It might have been sexy if I weren’t fighting for my life.

As I tried to roll her onto her stomach, I adjusted my grip until my arm was fully around her neck, forearm under her chin. Finally, some of Chloe’s training started to pay off. I got the hold where it needed to be—tight enough that Liz was going to have a hell of a time breaking it.

And it worked.

Her fingers clawed at my forearm as she climbed to her knees. I held on with everything I had.

Then she dropped to all fours and tried to buck me off. I hooked one leg under her torso and hung on, cinching the choke tighter with every second.