Chapter 17

Scarlet ran from Gavin’s tent like her feet were on fire. The look on her lovely face was pure terror and the front of her shirt was torn revealing the generous mounds of her breasts. Her pale skin revealed some red blotches that marked the trail of Gavin’s savage kisses. Desmond clenched his jaw as a furious rage consumed him. This time his father had gone too far.

Unsheathing his weapon, he advanced on Gavin’s tent only to have the treacherous bastard emerge. But something was definitely wrong with him. Even though he wore the smug expression of a beast that had eaten its fill, he didn’t have the murderous edge he was famous for. Desmond couldn’t stand that evil, satisfied grin. All he could think of was carving that glee off Gavin’s face. Operating on instinct alone, Desmond launched himself at Gavin, striking blow after blow with his saber searching for an opening. Gavin deflected them, but Desmond could tell right away he wasn’t at the top of his game. The injury to his back coupled with the enormous amount of narcotics he was taking had made his reactions too slow, and for the first time in his life, Desmond realized he had him.

The old man’s life was his for the taking.

He stopped his attack and took a few paces back to regroup as the realization came over him. Gavin was vulnerable. Desmond never thought he’d see the day. He could kill him, he was certain of it. A cauldron of old pain came to a boil inside him but no matter how much Gavin deserved to die, Desmond couldn’t bring himself to be the one to destroy him. It would be too much like Northe’s death: senseless and painful. Besides, Gavin was right about the mercenaries, they were watching him like a pride of lions waiting for their turn at the kill. They couldn’t wait for Gavin and Desmond to turn on each other. Then in the chaos, they could assassinate both of them, rape the women, and escape with whatever was left in the camp to steal. When they returned to the empire, they would just make up some story to account for the deaths and go on to the next assignment.

Then Gavin moved in, taking full advantage of his hesitation and battered him with several punishing saber strikes. Desmond focused his mind and let his experience take over. Once again, he was playing Gavin’s game by Gavin’s rules, and he hated every minute of it.

* * * *

Gypsy watched her father fighting her brother with a dark and mounting anticipation. She could read Gavin’s pain in every saber strike he launched. Compared to his usual combat style, he was slow and clumsy, and she grew worried he wouldn’t even be able to finish the contest between himself and Desmond. She also wondered if her brother would seize the opportunity to kill him. The thought made her insides twist with many painful realizations.

Gavin’s condition was a shock to her. They were in more trouble with these mercenaries than she had realized. Gypsy knew she had to act fast. Desmond had told her of Gavin’s plan, and it was up to her to find the boldest of the mercenary rebels and take him out. The kill should scare the others back in line, but there was no guarantee.

Ignoring the fight, she moved up behind the group of mercenaries watching them. As she suspected, Nero, the ringleader, was signaling one of the larger males to stab Desmond the next time he circled near them.

The plan was clever enough. Kill Desmond and Gavin would be easy to destroy, worn out from his enemy and his injury. She didn’t know what they had planned for her but, as good as she was, she was no match for the whole pack of them at once.

Gypsy pulled a dagger from her boot and crept up behind the large male. Everyone was so intent upon the fight that they didn’t even notice her. The rebel was tense, jumping forward every few seconds in anticipation of his attack. Desmond came around with his back to the group, pounding his saber against Gavin’s, and the rebel took several quick steps forward, his knife at the ready. He pulled his arm back to strike her brother in the lower back and Gypsy made her move. Jumping up on his back like a wildcat, she wrapped her arm around his throat and drove her blade up through the base of his skull, twisting it. Blood splashed back onto her and the man went to his knees. A moment later he fell on his face.

Pulling her saber, she turned to face the other mercenaries who were making some threatening moves toward her. Gavin and Desmond stopped their fight and moved up behind her. The mercenaries cast their eyes to the ground and shuffled off, Nero being the first one to depart.

Gavin looked down at Gypsy. “Good job.” He nudged the body with his boot. “Make sure none of the mercenaries get rations tonight. Except the scout. Give him and your brother double.”

“Yes, sir,” Gypsy said. There were so many things she wanted to say to him but this was not the place. She sure hoped he could hold together long enough to save her mother.

Gavin glanced at Desmond. “Come with me,” he said. The two of them disappeared into his tent.

* * * *

Desmond stood by the entrance of Gavin’s tent and folded his arms. His anger at his father had faded but not disappeared completely. “What?”

Gavin sank down on the floor and sat with his legs crossed under him. He gestured at his armor. “Help me with this, will you?”

Desmond hesitated. His father had never allowed himself to sit lower than his son. It was strange to see Gavin on the ground. Desmond stepped forward and unbuckled the chest plate, lifting it off Gavin. He tossed it on the ground in front of him. For a fleeting moment, he imagined pulling his blade and taking off this bastard’s head. The image made him grin.

“Are you planning to kill me?” Gavin asked.

“Then I would run the risk of someone worse taking over the military. If there is someone worse,” Desmond replied. It was nice having this kind of power over his father.

“You know you have every right,” Gavin said. “I terrorized your girlfriend and murdered you’re brother. You’ll never have an opportunity like now, Desmond. If I was in your position, I would.”

“That’s the fundamental difference between us,” he said, crouching a few feet from Gavin, shifting his scabbard. Lowering his voice, he said, “I will tell you this: if you ever exile me again you had better leave me there because the next time you ship me off to some fucking hellhole and then bring me back to help your rotten ass, I will kill you the first chance I get.”

“I really don’t care what you do to me, just promise me one thing,” Gavin said, his voice slurred from the pain meds.

“What’s that?”

“If I should die on this campaign, promise me you and Gypsy will find my wife and bring her home.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find Harlan with or without you,” Desmond said, suddenly very tired. Then he stood up and stepped outside the tent.