Page 103 of Storm over the Caribbean
In a flash, his arms shot up. Slipping between the arms of the other man, he slammed them aside, freeing himself from the pirate’s stranglehold and making the man fall forward on top of him. Then Mr Ambrose…hugged him close?
Hugged?
Honestly, I know my snarky subconscious had been making quips about a sweaty Mr Rikkard Ambrose rolling around on the ground earlier, but this was taking it a little too far, dammit!
Yet before I could protest and drag that hussy of a pirate off my hubby, Mr Ambrose’s right arm slid up the pirate’s back and wrapped around his neck, squeezing hard. In a blink, that arm interlocked with the other, trapping the pirate in a stranglehold. And, unlike the one my husband had previously been caught in, this one was completely inescapable.20
Ha! So, all this time, it was a fighting move! He was just squeezing the air out of his enemy before starting to strangle him! And here I was expecting any minute now for him to lovingly wrap his legs around the pirate’s waste and start to hump him. I was really a silly gi—
Just then, Mr Ambrose wrapped his legs around the pirate’s waist.21
Bloody hell!
I didn’t know yet who was going to win the fight, but I knew one thing for sure: if Mr Ambrose didn’t kill that beefy, bearded pirate hussy, I was going to!
As if hearing my thoughts and not wanting to be outdone, Mr Ambrose’s grip tightened. The pirate’s face reddened, and his struggles grew weaker and weaker. Muscles bulging, he put all his strength into a last, ferocious attempt to break free—and failed against Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s iron arms. He was winning! My hubby was winni—
That was when, behind Mr Ambrose’s back, the pirate reached into his sleeve and pulled out a knife.
For the very first time since the start of the fight, I regretted that I had my hands over my mouth. They muffled my panicked scream. And, while that meant the pirates didn’t discover me, it also meant Mr Ambrose didn’t hear my warning.
The soft sound of the knife driving into his flesh made me accidentally bite into my own hand. The pain was probably horrible, agonizing even, but I couldn’t really feel it. I could only really concentrate on the scene in front of me: Mr Rikkard Ambrose with a knife in his back.
My husband jerked backwards with a pained hiss. Rolling to the side, he kicked the pirate away from himself, dislodging the bloody knife in the process. Then he jumped to his feet and took up a fighting stance. Half-turning his head, he glanced at the fat pirate leader. The icy look he sent at the living tub of lard conveyed his message without a single word.
Knives in a fist fight?
The man smirked. “Hey, we’re pirates. What did you expect? A fair fight?”
Mr Ambrose didn’t scowl or frown. His entire reaction was an infinitesimal narrowing of the eyes.
“No.”
That was all he said before he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a sharp stone. Leaping forward, he slashed at Cyclops. It was only the massive man’s quick reaction time that saved him from having his throat slit open.
“You son of a…!” Cyclops growled, rubbing his throat. “I’m gonna gut you!”
“Really?” Cocking his head, Mr Ambrose’s foot lashed out. Slipping under the knife still lying in the sand, he kicked it up into the air, where he caught it effortlessly. Two weapons in hand, he stepped forward. “Go ahead. Try.”
With a roar, the massive pirate pulled another knife from his sleeve and rushed forward. The two men’s blades clashed in the air. With a twist, Cyclops shoved Mr Ambrose’s knife aside and stabbed towards him—only to have his weapon deflected by the sharp rock in my husband’s other hand. Taking advantage of theopening, Mr Ambrose dashed forward and slashed at the pirate’s unprotected belly.
“Aaagh!”
The massive beast of a man staggered backward, blood staining his shirt. His cut shirt, which was gaping open.
“You…! You’ll pay for that!”
In spite of all that had happened, I couldn’t help but smirk.I very much doubt that.
“Oh?” Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally. “Will I?”
The two rushed forward at the same time and clashed in the centre of the circle. This time, it was the pirate who attacked first, stabbing forward—then abruptly pulling back from the feint and kicking out. The kick hit the hand Mr Ambrose had brought up in defence and sent his sharpened stone flying away. A sickening sound of pierced flesh came from someone in the crowd, followed by a scream, but neither of the fighters paid it any heed.
“Now,” the pirate hissed, raising his knife, “let’s finish this!”
Mr Ambrose mirrored his stance, muscles tensed. “Agreed.”
Their dance began anew, blades slashing and stabbing in a silver whirl of death. Mr Rikkard Ambrose was undoubtedly the quicker one of the two, but Cyclops was the stronger. And now that Mr Ambrose only had one weapon to defend himself, that fact was making itself felt.
