He was already in midair, but he had the flexibility of a cat and he turned, landing in a crouch, almost exactly where Owen the second had been. A third Owen had Amaryllis and she was fighting him in earnest. This had to be the real one. The one he knew from all those years ago. Cunning, calculating, out for himself, this man would use anything or anyone to get what he wanted, including lethal force—and he wanted Amaryllis.
Amaryllis was limited by the small area she had to fight in. Gino couldn’t give her any help because he was engaged with Owen the first. The supersoldier was slow, but he was a tank with enormous strength, and he knew how to use it. Amaryllis looked very small in comparison to the real Owen, but she wasn’t giving in and she knew what she was doing. She slammed her foot into his ribs, coming under his armor and then spinning in midair to drive her foot down and across his cheek, nearly slamming him to the floor. He had no choice but to let go of her to break his fall.
The two stood facing each other, Owen between Amaryllis and Malichai.
Owen grinned at Amaryllis. “Did you really think you’d get away from me?”
“I managed to escape when you bragged no one could,” Amaryllis pointed out, backing up slowly to give herself a little more room.
Malichai could see she was trying to reach the main common room. It was larger and would give her more of an area to avoid Owen. She couldn’t afford for him to get his hands on her. She would have to fight him with hard, quick, running strikes. She’d had a lot of time to think how she would take Owen down. Malichai didn’t want her to do it alone.
He started toward Owen, when he was hit from behind. The blow felt as if an oak tree had fallen across his back. He staggered forward, nearly fell and caught himself, whirling around to face Owen the second. The supersoldier rushed him, thinking to take advantage while Malichai was off-balance, but Malichai’s body was always in perfect balance. He kept turning and caught the soldier coming in with a hard roundhouse kick to the side of the face, on the chiseled jaw, slashing downward, to drive him to the floor.
Agony blasted through his body. His leg felt as if it had shattered. The pain was so severe, his stomach rebelled, bile rising fast. He fought it down. There was no way he could put that foot on the floor, not yet, not when the explosion of pain was so blinding. He breathed deeply and forced his mind to control his body. He felt Owen the second’s eyes on him and knew he had to put his foot on the floor, or the soldier would discover his weakness.
He backed farther into the room, knowing he had to get rid of Owen the second so he could aid Amaryllis. He palmed the knife he kept in his boot and sent a small, silent apology to Marie that her floor was going to be one hell of a mess. He kept the blade hidden along his wrist and the handle in his fist, where it was unseen. Deliberately, he backed away from his opponent, seemingly stumbled, and instantly the supersoldier was on him, his massive fists coming straight at Malichai’s face. Getting hit wasn’t an option. One punch and he was going down.
Malichai slipped under the punch and slammed the blade of his knife deep into Owen the second’s armpit. It was one of the few areas he knew wasn’t protected by armor on Whitney’s supersoldiers. He twisted the knife as he brought it out and leapt back as blood sprayed across the room.
Owen the second howled, a long wail of obscenities, and then he rushed Malichai, furious, determined to kill him. He had the original Owen’s temper, and it showed. There was fury in his eyes, so much so the eyes glowed a deep red, making him appear diabolical. His big fists punched the air several times around Malichai’s head. Once his left hand punched the wall, driving a hole the size of a grapefruit into the wood. Blood spurted from his knuckles and from under his armpit, but he didn’t seem to notice.
Malichai kept moving in a loose circle, forcing Owen the second to turn continually with him like a dancer. All the while Malichai waited for another opening. It took patience. He had to block out all thoughts of Amaryllis and what was happening with her, of Marie’s guests returning, or of Cayenne and the babies in the basement. He had to think only of his opponent and wait for that one chance to bring him down. He knew Gino was working with that same patience to be able to kill Owen the first.
“What the hell is going on here?” Billy Leven’s voice cut in. “Malichai, do you want me to call the police?”
“Stay back,” Malichai said, inwardly cursing. The last thing he wanted was for Billy to see Gino fighting with him, or either of them using GhostWalker enhancements, which they were going to need in order to defeat Owen Starks and his clones.
“Amaryllis.” Billy almost breathed her name, shocked that anyone would try to punch her, especially a man who appeared to be twice her size.
“Don’t get near him, Billy,” Amaryllis warned.
Malichai ducked under Owen the second’s attack and plunged his knife into the supersoldier’s right armpit, again twisting the blade as he brought it out. Blood pumped out with each ragged breath and rushing step the clone took. The walls looked as if an artist had gone a little crazy painting dark red stripes everywhere. Owen the second shuddered and then abruptly sat on the floor, rocking back and forth.
Malichai left him there, rushed past Gino, who was essentially using the same strategy on Owen the first that he’d employed on Owen the second, but the first supersoldier appeared to be a little faster and definitely smarter than the one Malichai had to deal with.
Billy came up behind Owen and pulled his gun, using a two-fisted stance. “Stop right there. If you don’t, I’ll shoot you.” The warning was real. There was no doubt that he would do exactly what he said.
Malichai dove to bring him down, to get him out of harm’s way. Owen was on Billy before Malichai, slamming him to the floor, taking the blast in his chest, his armor absorbing the bullet. He grabbed the gun and turned it on Billy as Malichai landed on Owen. Malichai caught Owen’s big head in his hands and tried to wrench it.
“Owen, don’t!” Amaryllis cried out.
Owen actually shifted his gaze to her, smiling, as he pulled the trigger. He never seemed to notice Malichai using his enhanced strength to try to wrench his neck. Billy’s chest exploded into blood and mangled flesh. Owen dropped the gun on the floor right into the pool of blood, all the while looking at Amaryllis. Billy fell back, his gaze on the two combatants as Owen punched Malichai’s injured leg repeatedly in an effort to dislodge him.
Amaryllis raced around the two men rolling on the floor to try to stem the blood flowing like a river from Billy. His gaze jumped to her face. He lifted his hand and touched a tear there. “Tell Malichai to get out, his friend too. Get out.” His body shuddered and he was dead.
Amaryllis closed her eyes for a moment and then turned her head slowly to see Owen punching Malichai’s leg. Not only was Owen enhanced, but he was bulked up with immense muscles in his arms and chest. The power he generated when he smashed his fist into Malichai’s leg was enormous, but Malichai showed no reaction. He kept applying relentless pressure to Owen’s neck. Owen was beginning to actually feel it now, that impressive power Malichai had.
She stood up slowly, skirted around Gino, who feinted toward Owen the first with a knife and then circled to his left, giving her the room to get past him. She did, moving without haste. She had the gun in her hand. Billy’s gun. The gun Owen had used to shoot a man who had nothing whatsoever to do with Whitney or his pairing schemes. His breeding schemes. Or this latest cloning mess. What did it even mean? Was she supposed to go home with three Owens? One was bad enough.