Her Perfect Mate (35 page)

He swore and threw himself behind the only cover he could find—a rock that wasn’t much bigger than

a coffee table. He’d barely hit the ground when the dirt exploded around him. He did his best impersonation

of a groundhog and tried to bury himself to avoid getting shot, but the rock wasn’t big enough to provide

much cover. Landon wasn’t sure exactly where Stutmeir was, either, so he had no idea what angle he had

on him. He sure wasn’t going to poke his head up to take a look. He prayed nothing important was hanging

out.

What was Stutmeir carrying—an MP5? That meant a thirty-round magazine. But had the man started the

ambush with a full clip?

A distinct clack of a bolt locking back as the weapon ran out of ammo answered his question. The

sound was clear and unmistakable. Now was his chance to get to more substantial cover before Stutmeir

could reload.

He had about two and a half seconds to cross the fifteen feet of rocky, uneven ground between him and

the edge of the forest—unless Stutmeir was faster at reloading an MP5 than Landon thought. Not wanting to

take the chance, Landon darted out from behind the rock and ran for the forest’s edge. He threw himself the

last few feet, hitting the ground in a roll and slamming hard into a tree.

Landon leaned against the tree, waiting for Stutmeir to open fire again. But all he heard was the sound

of the ex-Stasi heading farther up the slope. Landon got up and ran after him.

Fighting gravity, the slippery rocks, and the thick undergrowth was hard, but all Landon had to do was

think about how Ivy had looked when he’d first found her in the basement of the lodge. All the torture

they’d inflicted upon her precious body. The drugs they’d given her. The countless ways they’d made her

suffer. That gave him all the strength he needed, and by the time he crested the ridge, he could have killed

Stutmeir with his bare hands.

Unfortunately, Stutmeir was nowhere in sight. He must have already gone down the slope and up the far

side.

Landon’s first instinct was to barrel down the slope after the man, but he stopped himself. Stutmeir had

already proven himself adept at setting up hasty ambushes, and there was absolutely no way the other man

could have made it all the way up the far slope in the time it had taken Landon to crest the ridge.

There was a blur of movement above him, then a stabbing pain as something sharp sliced down the

outside of his right arm from shoulder to elbow. He swore, but barely got the curse out before Stutmeir hit

him square in the chest. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs and sent both of them tumbling down

the slope.

***

Tree limbs smacked against Ivy’s legs. Rocks dug into her bare feet. She ignored them. She had Jeff’s

scent. Nothing was going to slow her down.

But then the breeze stilled in a heavily overgrown section of the forest and she suddenly lost his trail.

She froze in her tracks, the animal in her so frustrated she almost screamed out loud.

She turned in a slow circle, sniffing the air. She’d worked with Jeff, knew the way he thought. He’d

stay on the course he’d been following. If she did the same, she’d catch him.

Letting out a growl, Ivy turned and ran. Within a few hundred yards, she broke out of the heavier old-

growth forest, where she picked up his scent again. It was stronger now. He was close.

Movement caught her eye, and she saw him. He was running through the trees, toward the trail that

would lead him to the main road. Ivy sped up, determined to cut him off before he got there. With a snarl,

she launched herself through the air and pounced on him like the small, scurrying rat he was.

Jeff cried out and tried to twist away, but his own momentum worked against him and he fell to the

ground. She tumbled over him, digging her claws into his shoulders and the backs of his thighs as she

rolled.

She landed on her feet a few yards away, hands on the ground as she prepared to pounce on him again.

When she lifted her head, Jeff was already on his feet, flipping his submachine gun around. It was almost

too easy to swipe it out of his grasp and send it spinning into the air.

Jeff swore, his eyes darting to the trees where it had landed, as if he wondered whether to go after it. He

must have decided against it because he pulled a knife and dropped into a defensive stance.

Ivy approached him slowly, moving first one way and then the other, testing him. She’d injured him

pretty good with her initial attack, not to mention when she’d almost gutted him back at the lodge when

he’d tried to rape her again. He wouldn’t have much mobility in his arm or be able to push off with his legs.

“What are you waiting on, bitch?” he demanded. “Attack if you’re going to, so I can gut you like I

should have done years ago.”

Ivy stilled, then stared directly into his eyes, letting a slow, drawn-out hiss escape her lips.

Jeff flinched. But he quickly found his spine again and hissed back at her in his own crude way. “Maybe

you’re just thinking about letting me finish the game I started back in the lodge? Maybe you want to get on

your hands and knees and take it like the animal you are?”

Ivy snarled. Jeff might get in one shot with his blade, but she was going to make him sorry he’d ever

met her. By the time she was done, he was going to beg her to kill him.

“You sick bitch. I can see you want it.” Jeff motioned her forward with his free hand. “Come and get

it.”

Ivy felt the last vestiges of her human side disappear. She could barely remember who Jeff was, much

less what he’d done to her. All she knew was that she wanted to destroy him for it.

Only she didn’t want it to be this way. She wanted to be there when it happened, wanted him to know it

was Ivy and not some animal who finished him.

But she was too far gone to ever come back. She didn’t even know how to begin regaining control.

Being this deep, she wasn’t sure if she would ever be in control again.

An image suddenly flashed into her mind of her and Landon sitting in a tent in South America. It was

so vivid, she could smell him. So intense she could feel his fingers as he tenderly wiped away her tears.

Your
animal
nature
is
part
of
what
makes
you
so
good
in
the
field, but it’s not the only part.
His voice was soft in the darkness.
Your
human
side
plays
a
part, too. You can’t let one part shove the other into the

backseat. You have to be the one in control.

Then he had kissed her, and in her memory, the feel of his mouth on hers was just as powerful as the

real thing had been.

And just like that, a path appeared before her, showing her the way back to the Ivy she wanted to be.

She grasped at the memory of the kiss as if it were a lifeline leading her out of a dark cave. She focused on

Landon’s face, on the touch of his lips, on the way his eyes had filled with tears when he’d rescued her.

“What’re you doing, bitch?” Jeff smirked. “Daydreaming about what I’m going to do to your freak

ass?”

Ivy smiled, showing him her canines. She was herself again. “I was just imagining how much better the

world is going to be without you in it.”

He snorted. “You don’t have it in you to kill me. The only chance you had to finish me was while you

were wrapped up in your inner beast.”

Ivy didn’t answer. Instead, she walked toward him, clawed hands down at her side.

Jeff lunged at her with his knife—just like she knew he would.

She knocked the knife aside with one hand and raked the claws of the other across his throat.

Jeff dropped the knife and clasped his hands around his neck, trying to stop the flow of blood.

Ivy watched as he slowly dropped to his knees, then crumpled to the ground. The anger she’d carried

around for so long disappeared. She waited for the light in his eyes to go out completely, then turned and

ran for the lodge. She was done here. She needed to find Landon and make sure he was okay.

***

Landon lost his weapon somewhere on the headlong slide down the hill, which ended with him

smacking against a jagged rock—hard. He ignored the pain and got to his feet as quickly as he could.

Stutmeir was already on his feet, a wicked looking survival knife in his hand. It was sharpened on one

side and had a ragged set of saw teeth on the other. Stutmeir moved a little gingerly, as if he’d landed

awkwardly. Or maybe the man was just faking it, trying to suck Landon into attacking him.

Landon took a quick look at his own arm, assessing the damage. The cut was deep and jagged at the top

of his bicep, but it got shallower as it ran down his arm. It wasn’t much more than a scratch near the elbow.

It was bleeding a lot, but it wasn’t life threatening.

Landon saw his M4 out of the corner of his eye. It was at the bottom of the slope, maybe fifty or sixty

feet away. It might simply be how the weapon was lying in a crevice, but it looked like the collapsible stock

had collapsed a whole lot more than it was supposed to. At least Stutmeir didn’t have his gun, either.

Landon reached down for his knife, but the sheath was empty.

Stutmeir spread his legs as Landon approached, balancing his weight on his toes and keeping the knife

low. The guy looked like he knew a thing or two about knife fighting. Landon hoped that Stutmeir’s ankle

really was gimpy. If not, this could get ugly.

Landon circled around to the right, trying to get on the same level with Stutmeir, but the man slipped

sideways to stay in front of him—and keep him lower down on the slope. If his ankle was injured, he

wasn’t showing it now.

Landon was just about to move to the left when Stutmeir kicked out with one foot, showering him with

dirt. The ex-Stasi immediately followed the move with a lunge.

Landon backpedaled to avoid the knife, then darted to the side and delivered a quick punch to

Stutmeir’s ribs. The blow wasn’t hard enough to break anything, but it made Stutmeir grunt all the same.

He’d felt it for sure.

Unfortunately, Landon wasn’t able to capitalize on the rib shot because Stutmeir quickly skipped back a

few steps. Was he moving a little more gingerly on that ankle? Maybe, but it wasn’t something Landon was

ready to put any faith in.

So they played a game of cat and mouse, Landon moving in a feint and trying to draw Stutmeir into

making a mistake, while the ex-Stasi did the same to him. Landon got in a few more body shots. Stutmeir

got him with a backhanded slice across the chest. The wound was barely a scratch, but it demonstrated once

again how fast the ex-Stasi was.

Landon clenched his jaw. This was taking too long. He considered running down the hill to get his rifle.

Even if it was broken, he could use it as a club. But Landon still didn’t know if Stutmeir was faking that

bad ankle or not. Turning his back on the man would be suicide.

“Whatever the DCO is paying you, I can double it.” Stutmeir’s breathing was ragged. “I’ll even throw in

a few thousand extra if you bring that cat bitch with you. She could be a real asset to me.”

Landon would have been more concerned with how Stutmeir knew about the DCO if he wasn’t so

pissed.

“Like hell I will.”

Letting out a roar, he threw himself at Stutmeir.

They hit the ground hard, but because Landon was on top, Stutmeir took the brunt of the impact. That

didn’t keep him from trying to carve up Landon’s face.

Landon caught Stutmeir’s knife hand in one of his. Then he slowly forced the knife back toward the

man’s chest.

Stutmeir grimaced, straining to keep the blade away with one hand while he used the other to punch

Landon anywhere and everywhere he could reach.

Landon ignored the blows. He was focused on one thing and one thing only—exerting more and more

pressure on the knife until he wore Stutmeir down.

“Name your price.” Stutmeir’s gaze locked on his, and for the first time, Landon saw real fear there.

“Whatever you want, I’ll pay it.”

Landon shifted his body until he was directly over Stutmeir’s chest, putting all his weight on the knife.

Stutmeir gave up punching him and instead put both hands on the knife, doing everything to keep Landon

from plunging it into his chest.

“Keep your money.” Landon forced Stutmeir’s hand back until the knife was positioned directly above

the man’s heart. “All I want is your blood.”

Stutmeir whimpered as the tip of the knife touched his shirt. “Please.”

Landon leaned down so his face was mere inches from Stutmeir’s. “Is that what my partner said when

you tortured her?”

“You’re the cat bitch’s partner? They told me they killed you.”

“Guess your hybrids aren’t as good as you think.”

Tightening his hold on Stutmeir’s hand, Landon shoved the blade into the man’s chest.

Stutmeir gasped, his eyes going wide as he choked on blood.

Landon staggered to his feet. His radio headset had gone missing long ago, so he had no way of