“YES, SIR!”
Vivian patted his rear end through the tight seat of his jeans.
“GOOD LUCK TO YOU.”
“THANK YOU, SIR.”
Stryker stepped away from him and swung open the door of the cage.
Valeria continued to stand motionless just past the foot of her coffin, her back to the door, the cape wrapped around her body.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… WE WILL LEAVE THIS DOOR WIDE OPEN SO THAT THE VIC… THE VOLUNTEER… WILL BE ABLE TO MAKE A QUICK ESCAPE IF THE NEED SHOULD ARISE.” He nodded at Chance. “ARE YOU READY?” he asked.
“MAY I ASK A QUESTION, SIR?” Chance asked into the mike.
“FIRE AWAY.”
“WHAT ARE THE RULES, SIR?”
“YOU DON’T HAVE A WEAPON, DO YOU?”
“NO, SIR.”
“THEN FEEL FREE TO DO WHATEVER YOU DEEM NECESSARY IN ORDER TO PREVENT VALERIA FROM SUCKING YOUR BLOOD. LAST FIVE MINUTES IN THE CAGE WITH HER AND YOU WIN FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS. ARE YOU READY?”
“YES, SIR!”
Stryker gestured for Chance to enter the cage.
Chance climbed a couple of wooden stairs and stepped through the doorway.
Stryker removed a timepiece from a pocket of his leather pants. From where I sat, it looked similar to the stopwatch that always dangled around the neck of my high school track coach. Also like my track coach, he wore a silver whistle around his neck. He glanced at the stopwatch, then spoke into his microphone. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, LET THE CONTEST BEGIN!”
Chance moved forward, eyes on Valeria. He walked slowly, hunkered low but keeping his head up, his arms open and his knees bent like a wrestler approaching his opponent.
Valeria still stood motionless, her back to him.
With one foot, Chance shoved the coffin out of his way. Another couple of strides took him within reach of Valeria. He halted.
The audience watched in utter silence. All I could really hear were the sounds of the wind.
I don’t know why, but it struck me just then that somewhere in the audience were the two degenerates who had tried to take Slim—the Cadillac twins. They might be sitting directly behind me… or in the stands on the other side of the arena… or anywhere.
Peering across the arena, I started to look for them.
And missed Valeria’s first move. As gasps exploded from the audience, I jerked my eyes back to the cage.
Already, Chance was draped from head to waist by the black shroud of Valeria’s cape. While he struggled to get rid of it, she twirled away and raised both her arms in triumph, her spurs ringing out with each stride. She looked glorious, her raven hair blowing, her skin golden under the stadium lights, her red leather outfit gleaming.
Chance flung the cape aside. The wind caught it, carried it across the cage and pinned it to the bars.
Facing Valeria, he smiled. Then he shook his bead and said something, but I couldn’t hear what.
They started circling each other.
Chance might’ve been happy just to circle her for whatever was left of the five minutes. Plenty of us in the audience might’ve gone along with it, too. If Lee’s reaction meant anything, the handsome and shirtless Marine was a real treat for the gals to watch. And every guy in the audience could’ve sat there all night watching Valeria. She would’ve been fine to watch if she were simply standing still. In motion, though, she was spectacular. The way the muscles moved under the smooth skin of her thighs and calves, the way we kept getting different views of her leather-harnessed breasts, and how they wobbled and shook.
She was a wonder to behold.
But Chance would be winning five hundred dollars in the next couple of minutes unless she did more than circle and prance and look gorgeous.
She had to know it, too.
We all knew it.
What’s she waiting for? I wondered.
Maybe she’s afraid of him. Who wouldn’t be? A Marine, for godsake.
She attacked.
Went straight at him, roaring, leaping, reaching out with both hands.
People in the audience gasped. Others yelped with fright. Must’ve been Judo.
Suddenly, Chance twirled and bent, took Valeria down across his hip and threw her. I glimpsed her red boots high in the air. An instant later, her back slammed the dirt. Dust rose around her.
She lay sprawled on her back, apparently stunned.
Chance stared down at her for a few seconds as if not quite sure what to do next. If she’d been an enemy soldier, he probably would’ve finished her off. But she was a beautiful woman. And he didn’t need to finish her off; all he had to do was remain unbitten for a while longer.
The audience, sensing Valeria’s defeat (and maybe fearing that her loss might put an end to the entire performance), started cheering her on.
“Get him, Val!”
“Come on, honey, you can do it!”
“Time’s a-wastin‘, darlin’! Nail this gyrene’s hide!”
She rolled onto her side. Instead of rising, however, she curled up as if she had a stomach ache.
We clapped and stomped our feet and chanted, “UP! UP! UP!”
Chance, assuming the victory was his, began to stride around Valeria, waving at the audience, smiling and nodding.
And got too close to her.
With a sweep of one leg, she kicked his right foot forward. Chance’s leg flew high. He yelped with surprise and waved his arms. It looked as if he would slam down on his back. In the moment before he hit the ground, however, he turned his body. He shouted, “YAH!” and slapped the ground and landed on his side.
Unhurt, he rolled to get away from Valeria. But not fast enough. She hurled herself onto his back, hooked an arm across his throat, and darted her face down against the side of his neck.
He let out a yelp of surprise and pain.
Then he just lay underneath her, not resisting. Valeria no longer seemed to be struggling, either. She was sprawled on top of him, hands on his shoulders, her body squirming as if Chance were her lover, not her victim.
I couldn’t see what was happening with her mouth, but I was pretty sure what must be going on.
Stryker entered the cage, trailing the microphone cord. “AND THE WINNER IS… VALERIA!”
The audience erupted with clapping, cheers, shouts and whistles.
Valeria stayed on top of Chance’s back, face still down against his neck.
Stryker frowned at her. “VALERIA! QUIT!”
She didn’t quit.
She went on with Chance as if they were all alone in the world.
“VALERIA!”
She ignored him.
Stryker stepped over to her, raised his right leg and raked the rowl of his big silver spur across her bare back just above the waist of her skirt.
Her head darted up and swung around. Glaring over her shoulder at Stryker, she roared. Blood flew from her mouth.
As I gaped at her, shocked, she turned her head the other way to let those in the other bleachers get a good look.
Silence.
Nobody spoke or laughed or clapped… or moved. The wind blew, hissing through the forest and lifting the long black hair from Valeria’s shoulders.
Into the microphone, Stryker said, “IT’S OVER, MY DARLING. YOU’VE WON.”
Chapter Fifty-three
After Valeria climbed off the Marine, several members of Stryker’s black-shirted crew came into the arena wheeling a gurney. While they hurried toward the cage, Chance rolled onto his back and managed to stand up.
Applause rippled through the crowd even before Stryker’s voice boomed out, “LET’S HEAR IT FOR A REAL CONTENDER!”
The applause grew to a roar.
Chance raised his hand in a game but embarrassed wave, sort of like a cowboy who has just gotten tossed off the back of a Brahma bull. Staggering out of the cage, he waved off the gurney in spite of the fact that he appeared to be bitten on the right side of his neck. He had blood all over his shoulder and running down his back and chest. He must’ve not considered it very serious, though. Not serious enough to merit a visit to an emergency room—or wherever the gurney crew had planned to take him.