They circled.
Ana had spent nearly a year repairing and building her body. She was lean with muscle. Her curvy ass was rock hard. Her breasts sat higher, if anything, from the added muscle in her chest. Her black hair was down, and longer, and wilder. Her eyes were tense, and restless.
From still five feet away, Sydney cut her with words. “You look great,” she said. “All healed up! But Ana, it wasn’t your body that was weak, was it?” The circle was a spiral, getting tighter. “I think you dreamed of me every night. Did you wake up begging?”
She saw in Ana’s eyes that she was right. That was all she needed.
Sydney was lightning quick and not where Ana expected. She drove a black spike heel into the inside of Ana’s ankle, slicing down into her instep. Ana’s leg buckled and Sydney was behind her in a flash. She stabbed another heel into the back of Ana’s calf and twisted her upper body in the opposite direction as she wrenched her brown arm back. A bright bolt of pain exploded in Ana’s head as Sydney punched her in the back of her neck, and then the spike was in her back between her shoulder blades, driving her face down into the dance floor, a knife in her spine.
“You wasted your time in the gym,” Sydney said. She stomped down into Ana’s ass. “You’ve spent a year lying to yourself. Your fear hasn’t healed, not one bit.” Ana pushed up, trying to move. Sydney’s sharp toe split her thighs, ramming her red panties deep into her pussy, spilling her forward, her face and tits hitting the floor. The redhead stepped quickly around and kicked the brunette in the face the second she lifted it from the floor, knocking her onto her back. Ana took four rapid-fire heels into her breasts before she rolled and curled. Another kick in her spine, in her lower back.
Sydney’s body swayed to the music. She raised her arms over her head, rolling her hips in a sensual figure eight. Ana got to her feet, only because Sydney let her. “This wasp is going to sting you to death, vieja,” Sydney said. In perfect timing with her dancing, she drove her stiletto at Ana’s belly.
Ana moved her hips too, and trapped Sydney’s leg against her side. A year ago, she would have just thrown her off her feet. Instead, she closed, still holding her leg, and rammed her fist into the redhead’s pussy, once, twice, three times. She smashed her knee into Sydney’s belly and then drove her down into the dance floor with it stuck in her guts, relishing her scream of pain, a scream she cut off by chopping the edge of her hand into Sydney’s throat.
Sydney was right; Ana was afraid of her. She was the only woman Ana had ever fought who truly had no limits. That was terrifying. To beat an opponent like that, you have to have no limits yourself. Ana had spent her year knowing that’s how she would have to fight. Can you take yourself back after that?
Ana chopped the redhead in the throat again, then drove a fist into her breasts. She felt adrenaline surging in her blood as she hurt Sydney, relishing the pain she saw in her blue eyes. Oh God, revenge felt so good. She went back to Sydney’s leg, smashing it against the floor. She knelt on the inside of Sydney’s knee and jerked up on her foot. She wanted to snap it. Sydney screamed and drove her other heel into Ana’s ribs, knocking her away.
Sydney came up limping. The merriment in her mad eyes had gone to ice. “Not bad, Ana,” she said. “More fight already than you gave me last time.”
“Shut your fucking mouth and fight, cxnt,” Ana said. She held her ribs, blood oozing between her fingers.
At the edge of the dance floor, Joe watched. Maybe she couldn’t turn back the clock, but this was the younger Ana that he remembered. Hungry Ana. But hungry won’t beat psychotic, he thought.
They stood and traded punches. No effort at defense, all offense. Sydney pounded the same spot in Ana’s ribs. Her knuckles were red from the Latina’s blood. Maybe that spike heel had gone deeper than she thought. She hit her there, again and again.
Ana punished the redhead’s big tan-freckled breasts. She uppercut them, trying to rip something, anything, with slashing punches that did more than flatten them. She hit her belly like the heavy bag at the gym, up on her toes with the torque she put behind it.
Five minutes of nose-to-nose brutality. Sydney wasn’t talking any more. She was gasping, sobbing for air. Ana’s fist broke down her abs; she couldn’t keep them hard and the brunette’s next punch went deep into her. She dropped to her knees. Ana’s instinct was to rest, step back. She fought that. No. Fight crazy. Two hands of auburn hair and three savage knee strikes to Sydney’s face and neck. She put her down on the floor. She stomped her, heels in her tits, just like Sydney did to her.
Joe had seen enough for now. “Bring the car to the alley door,” he said to the lone bodyguard that he had let stay, a bruiser who stood there dazed with an enormous erection obvious in his pants. Joe caught Ana’s arms and pulled her back, not easily. The DJ cut the music.
“We’re going to the house,” he said. Ana’s eyes were wild. It made him uneasy.
“How?” she snapped.
He shrugged. “It’s a big car, a short drive. Fight each other in the fucking back seat.”
From the floor, Sydney laughed. She rolled to her knees. “That sounds like fun!” she said.
She went in one side, Ana went in the other, and they slammed together on their knees in the center of the leather back bench. Joe got in the front with the bodyguard/driver. He locked the doors. It was ten minutes to the house. “Go,” he said.
Sydney drove Ana into the door, her shoulder in the Latina’s throat, her claw mauling her left breast. Ana twisted, got her hand on the back of Sydney’s head. Even though there was only four inches to go, four inches is enough to smack the side of someone’s face hard into a car window.
First stoplight. The car was big, but it rocked slightly as Ana launched Sydney back. She went for her throat, got her shoulders over it, pushed straight down on her hands locked around it. Sydney bucked her hips, pitching Ana head first into the side window above her. The car moved again.
A flashing red heel nearly took the driver in the ear. Joe just deflected it. “Maybe drive a little faster,” he said.
Second stoplight. Ana sat upright in the center, her head jammed back, her chin pointed at the interior roof, her hair spread across the back space from the seat to the window. Sydney straddled her, hair hanging in her face, her forearm pressed against Ana’s throat, her fist grinding into her breast. The driver of the car behind them, a teen-age boy, stared transfixed at the scene. For just a second, Sydney made eye contact with him. It was the second before she bit down on Ana’s neck. He heard the scream, muffled. He sat there dazed when the light turned green and they drove away, until the honking behind him jarred him back.
Every car has something rolling loose under its seats. Sydney had Ana bent forward, half in the seat and half in the floor, when Ana’s hand found the heavy flashlight. She jerked it up into Sydney’s face; it crunched her pert freckled nose in a burst of blood. Now lying side by side, Ana used it like a hammer on Sydney’s cheekbone. The dark leather seat was getting slick with blood. Some spatters slowly dripped down the window glass.
The remaining lights were green. They pulled into the driveway, then the garage. Joe slid out and opened the rear door on his passenger side. Ana’s hair spilled out, hanging nearly to the garage floor. Her head was tilted back, her eyes half-closed, her mouth open, desperately panting in short gasps. The shoulder belt was wrapped around her neck, and Sydney was twisting it tight.
“Home already?” Sydney said. She reached across for the door handle, and jerked it shut on Ana’s head. Joe pulled it open and held it.
“You really must come in for a while,” Sydney said to Ana, still strangling her. “I insist! It’s so good to have you back.”
