Chapter 13

The sun was up high in the sky by the time Ethan Quade had reached the crest of the hill in the interior of the island. It had taken him a while to get there. The vegetation he'd encountered had been dense and the heat and the humidity had sapped at his energy. Twice during the morning he'd stopped and sat in the shade at the base of a tree to recover his breath and kneed at the tight muscles in his chest. Once, he'd also taken off his sneaker so that he could properly massage the ankle that had been broken in the car crash. That had proved a big mistake! The massage had felt divine and Quade had luxuriated in the touch but when it came to putting the footwear back on…. The ankle had swollen and so had some of the upper part of his foot. Jamming it back into his sneaker was like attempting to enter purgatory and the curly haired man cursed long and hard until he had the shoe in place and laced loosely around his foot.

Quade had to admit to himself that he was not in the best shape. Maybe healing from two big accidents – the bomb blast ihe'd been told he'd survived n 'Nam and the car accident just over a month ago was too much for his body to take. After this – after he'd killed Hunt and moved on in his life Quade promised himself he'd take it easy, maybe move down to Mexico, find a sweet little seniorita and a settle down on a ranch. Maybe he'd win a fortune on a blackjack table; maybe he'd just find the brunette with the twinkling eyes who haunted his dreams.

The tall man sighed. Maybe. Such a small word that hid so many hopes. Quade shook himself and snickered. Was he getting maudlin? Surely not. Big bad Ethan Quade, on the hunt for revenge and he was brooding about a dream girl with no name?

Time to move on and Quade pushed himself to his feet against the base of the tree and looked around him. The best offence is a good defence. Some unknown, unremembered voice had once told him that. Or had he read it in a book? And did it really matter? The advice seemed sound and for the fourth time in as many hours the brunet examined the sheaths strapped to his forearms and tried once again to flex his wrists so that the knives flicked out making the hilts easier to grab. The hard brown leather chaffed at his skin, but the bright silver glint of the sun on the metal blades cheered him, giving him a warm, safe feeling that he wrapped around his body like a security blanket.

Satisfied he was as well armed as he was ever likely to be on the island, Quade once again bent down and scuffed over the grass he'd been sitting on. Something in his mind – something indefinable but still present made him aware of jungle craft, or at least the ability to go undetected. Was that too a legacy of his time in the Army? It wasn't that he felt at home surrounded by trees and the like – if anyone had asked him he'd have said he was a city boy without a doubt – but he did seem instinctively to know how to deal with being alone.

Self reliant. Why was that? What had gone on in his unremembered life that had made him that way?

Quade's head started to ache. Too many thoughts running through them and at the back of it all a niggling doubt telling him that something about this whole set up wasn't right. Yeah, sure he wanted Hunt dead. The "memory" of his baby brother Chris' untimely death weighed heavy on his mind, but at the same time, Quade had a niggling doubt about just how easy it had been for Doctor Isaac to find Chris' killer and have him on the island ready for the kill. Was it good luck, or good management? Ethan trusted the doctor. He had no reason not to, but on the other hand, being a trained soldier, he brought questions to every scenario and right now, he was beginning to question a little too much.

Squaring his shoulders, Quade set off once again through the trees. He could see his target now. The crest of the hill was a small clearing, the earth bare and sandy and there, large as life was the man he'd been hunting. Raymond Hunt. Murderer extraordinaire. And he was standing large as life in front of the brunet looking out over the tree covered island.

Quade stopped and pulled himself back into the shadows. For a long moment he pressed his back against the tree and stared at the other man, sizing him up. If he'd had a gun he'd have had a straight head shot and he would have been able to take out Hunt in a second. Pity. And yet something made Quade want to get closer to fight. There was just something making him want to get hands on that tanned torso and watch as the light went out behind those eyes. Almost casually Quade ran his fingers over the knife and with his left hand he drew the right hand knife from its sheath, testing and weighing the blade in his hand. He let his breath out of his body until nothing remained but deadly stillness – and the desire for blood.

Up ahead Hunt seemed oblivious to his impending death. Quade was sure that so far he hadn't been seen and to make sure that that continued he dropped to his knees and crawled forwards, slinking across the dirt like a panther until he was less than 20 yards away from the other blond man. Quietly Quade rose to his knees and wiped the dirt from his hands, running his left hand down the front of his shorts to clean off any last residue of grass and sweat. He hefted the knife in his hand. It felt good, the weight reassuring and the blade deadly. Swiftly he tossed the knife into the air, reversing it so that he caught the silver blade deftly, ready to throw.

Like a puppet brought upright on strings Quade got to his feet, still hugging the shade of the tree at his back. There were still enough tree trunks on front of him that he was covered by dappled shade – just another shape amongst the vegetation. Ahead, Hunt was standing tall, his hand up to his eyes as he turned a full 360 degrees. Hunt's flaw that he was looking further out, towards the horizon and not just a few yards away. Too damned sure for his own good Quade thought and the cocksureness of the other man irked him and made him want to hurt Hunt all the more.

As the blond turned his back once more to complete his circuit, Quade made his move and shot out from the shelter of the trees, dropping to his knee on the edge of the clearing and launching the knife at Hunt's back.

Something alerted the blond. The blur of movement made the hair stand up on the back of his neck and he started to turn, but as he did so, something caught him low down on his calf and he staggered, falling to his knee as he looked in surprise at the knife sticking obscenely out from his calf muscle. The pain didn't come immediately but Hunt reacted like a professional. Never stopping to take the knife out of the wound, he rose on his one good leg just in time to be hit in the body full force by a curly headed missile.

Quade watched his blade embed itself in his quarry's leg and cursed. His aim had been off by a foot, but it had still found flesh and the wound was bound to hurt. The brunet had wanted the fight to be up close and personal and now, with Hunt temporarily stunned, Quade pressed home the advantage and ran at his target full tilt.

At the last moment Hunt turned and with a skill born of practice he faced Quade, dropping onto his back as the curly haired man reached for him. Quade's own momentum carried him forwards as Hunt took a hold of Quade's arms, placed a foot in his stomach and rolled him over his head.

Both men came to their feet with surprising speed and once again Quade launched himself at Hunt, reaching out for the blond's neck. This time, with the knife still in his calf, Hunt wasn't quite quick enough. He felt strong hands circle his neck and he grabbed for Quade's wrists trying to pull the death grip away. The world started to sparkle around the edges as Quade squeezed as hard as he could, watching the crystal blue eyes in front of him start to tear and bulge. At the same time Hunt looked down to the open front of Quade's shirt and saw the still dark bruises across his chest.

Altering his target was one thing, taking his hands away from those that were trying to strangle him was something else. With a supreme effort, Hunt lowered his hands and while he still had some strength remaining he made the side of his hand into a blade and chopped at Quade's side with as much force as he could muster.

The effect was instantaneous. Quade's hands fell away from Hunt's neck as the slightly smaller man collapsed onto his knees in a wheeze of breath. Quade's arms wrapped instinctively around his damaged chest, that fourth rib having finally given up the unequal struggle to heal and spat onto the ground, but his eyes never left the tall blond. The gaze didn't save him. The breath was knocked from the brunet's body by the blow and as he leaned over to try to breathe a roundhouse kick took him full force in the head, knocking him to the ground. For a moment stars shone in Ethan Quade's head and he found himself staring at the trees until he could managed another breath.

Hunt knew he'd hurt his adversary but the wound on his leg was hurting like hell and he knew Quade was getting weaker. With a barely suppressed yip of pain Hunt pulled the blade of the knife from his flesh and pocketed it. Ignoring the pain and the trickle of blood making its way down his leg Hunt knew he had the brunet on the run and now that he had the upper hand he was like a cat playing with a mouse. Something in Hunt's mind snapped. He wanted fun. He wanted to make this last. He wanted Quade to suffer just like Hunt's sister had suffered before she died. There was no question of compassion in Hunt's heart, just a cold, hard merciless lust for revenge. He looked down at the man on the ground. Quade looked back at him and started to get to his feet.

'Fuckin' pervert. Wanna fight? Come an' get it' Hunt snarled at the brunet and set off down the path he'd used to get to the crest of the hill at a moderately fast pace – just fast enough to give Quade the impression that he'd be able to catch up.

Quade got to his feet, nursing his re-broken rib and started after Hunt. If that drug dealer wanted a fight, then Quade wasn't going to disappoint him. Ignoring the pain in his ankle and the gnawing ache in his chest and head, Quade set off down the hill after his rival, limping as fast as he could over the uneven ground. The taste of the fight had spurred him on and the feel of the blond man's neck between his hands had been like a sweet, sweet wine. The look in Hunt's eyes as he'd been so close to death was the cherry on the cake and now Quade wanted only to finish what he'd started.

Ahead he could see the taller man flitting sure footedly through the trees like quicksilver. One minute his body was there, the next minute it had gone, blending in with the shadows and yet he seemed to be following the track of a small path down the hill. The smoother dirt of the path made the going easier and for a second Quade relaxed. Hunt had obviously underestimated him and now he was going to teach the blond the lesson of his life.

The blood thundered in Quade's ears and his skin felt so antsy he was sure it would crawl off of his body and go after Hunt on its own.

A little further down the path Hunt neatly side stepped off the path and stood, arms outstretched as he waited for Quade. This was it. This was what he'd prepared for and now he was going to savour the moment. The brunet came hurtling around the corner and skittered to a halt about five feet away from Hunt. The blond twitched his fingers in an invitation to come closer.

'Ya scared?' he asked coldly.

'Of a chicken livered bastard like you? Nah. Just bored' Quade answered and in truth that was almost how he felt, although underlying it all was the need to get this over with so that he could lie down and see to his injuries.

'Bored huh? Well come an' get me. We can finish it here and now' Hunt called.

'T'riffic' Quade snapped and took a step forwards. The word – that single word brought Hunt up short. There was something about it he couldn't define and yet…

Too late for thoughts. As Quade took that last step forwards – as he was breaking into a charge at Hunt – the ground slipped from under his feet and the light covering of palm fronds over the pit Hunt had spent time digging give way so that the ground seemed to open up and swallow the brunet. Quade had only a moment to register surprise before he felt himself falling and the bottom of the pit came up quickly to catch his body unawares.

There was a moment of sickening clarity as Quade realised what was happening and he barely had time to let out a scream of rage before the ground came up to hit him. For a second there was silence. Quade lay crumpled, like a broken doll in the hole and his last thought as blackness overtook him was that something not very pleasant was jabbing into his private parts and seemed to be wantinh to come out the other side.