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He stared at her, blankly. Then he bellowed in rage and rushed into her stall, swinging his foot. Holly dodged away. His short wide leg swung and co
Reacher whooped in admiration. And relief. He thought: couldn’t have done it better myself, kid. The guy was heaving. Reacher saw his face, crumpled in pain. Holly was snarling in triumph. She scrambled on one knee after him. Going for his groin. Reacher willed her on. She launched herself at him. The guy turned and took it on the thigh. Holly had pla
Reacher’s grin froze on his face. The guy staggered out of range. Stooped and panted and caught his breath. Then he straightened up and hitched his belt higher. Holly faced him, one-handed. Her chain was tight against the wall, vibrating with the tension she had on it.
“I like a fighter,” the guy gasped. “Makes it more interesting for me. But make sure you save yourself some energy for later. I don’t want you just lying there.”
Holly glared at him, breathing hard. Crackling with aggression. But she was one-handed. The guy stepped in again and she swung a stinging punch. Fast and low. He crowded left and blocked it. She couldn’t deliver the follow-up. Her other arm was pi
“I asked you a damn question,” he said.
Holly was deathly white and trembling. She was writhing around on the mattress, one arm pi
“I’m waiting, bitch,” the guy said.
Reacher saw her face again. Saw she was beaten. The fight was out of her.
“Want another kicking?” the driver said.
There was silence in the barn again.
“I’m waiting for an answer,” the guy said.
Reacher stared over, waiting. There was still silence. Just the rasping of three people breathing hard in the quiet. Then Holly spoke.
“What was the question?” she said quietly.
The guy smiled down at her.
“You wearing anything under that suit?” he said.
Holly nodded. Didn’t speak.
“OK, what?” the guy said to her.
“Underwear,” she said, quietly.
The guy cupped a hand behind his ear.
“Can’t hear you, bitch,” he said.
“I’m wearing, underwear, you bastard,” she said, louder.
The guy shook his head.
“Bad name,” he said. “I’m going to need an apology for that.”
“Screw you,” Holly said.
“I’ll kick you again,” the guy said. “In the knee. I do that, you’ll never walk without a stick, the whole rest of your life, you bitch.”
Holly looked away.
“Your choice, bitch,” the guy said.
He raised his foot. Holly stared down at her mattress.
“OK, I apologize,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
The guy nodded, happily.
“Describe your underwear to me,” he said. “Lots of detail.”
She shrugged. Turned her face away and spoke to the wooden wall.
“Bra and pants,” she said. “ Victoria ’s Secret. Dark peach.”
“Skimpy?” the driver asked.
She shrugged again, miserably, like she knew for sure what the next question was going to be.
“I guess,” she said.
“Want to show it to me?” the guy said.
“No,” she said.
The driver took a step closer.
“So you do want another kicking?” he said.
She didn’t speak. The guy cupped his hand behind his ear again.
“Can’t hear you, bitch,” he said.
“What was the question?” Holly muttered.
“You want another kicking?” the guy said.
Holly shook her head.
“No,” she said again.
“OK,” he said. “Show me your underwear, and you won’t get one.”
He raised his foot. Holly raised her hand. It went to the top button on her suit. Reacher watched her. There were five buttons down the front of the suit. Reacher willed her to undo each of them slowly and rhythmically. He needed her to do that. It was vital. Slowly and rhythmically, Holly, he pleaded silently. He gripped his chain with both hands. Four feet from where it looped into the iron ring on the back wall. He tightened his hands around it.
She undid the top button. Reacher counted: one. The driver leered down. Her hand slid to the next button. Reacher tightened his grip again. She undid the second button. Reacher counted: two. Her hand slid down to the third button. Reacher turned square-on to face the rear wall of his stall and took a deep breath. Turned his head and watched over his shoulder. Holly undid the third button. Her breasts swelled out. Dark peach brassiere. Skimpy and lacy. The driver shuffled from foot to foot. Reacher counted: three. He exhaled right from the bottom of his lungs. Holly’s hand slid down to the fourth button. Reacher took a deep breath, the deepest breath of his life. He tightened his hold on the chain until his knuckles shone white. Holly undid the fourth button. Reacher counted: four. Her hand slid down. Paused a beat. Waited. Undid the fifth button. Her suit fell open. The driver leered down and made a small sound. Reacher jerked back and smashed his foot into the wall. Right under the iron ring. He smashed his weight backward against the chain, two hundred and twenty pounds of coiled fury exploding against the force of his kick. Splinters of damp wood burst out of the wall. The old planks shattered. The bolts tore right out of the timber. Reacher was hurled backward. He swarmed up to his feet, his chain whipping and flailing angrily behind him.
“Five!” he screamed.
He seized the driver by the arm and hurled him into his stall. Threw him against the back wall. The guy smashed into it and hung like a broken doll. He staggered forward and Reacher kicked him in the stomach. The guy jackknifed in the air, feet right off the ground, and smashed flat on his face on the cobblestones. Reacher doubled his chain and swung it through the air. Aimed the lethal length at the guy’s head like a giant metal whip. The iron ring centrifuged out like an old medieval weapon. But at the last second Reacher changed his mind. Wrenched the chain out of its trajectory and let it smash and spark into the stones on the floor. He grabbed the driver, one hand on his collar and one hand in his hair. Lifted him bodily across the aisle to Holly’s mattress. Jammed his ugly face down into the softness and leaned on him until he suffocated. The guy bucked and thrashed, but Reacher just planted a giant hand flat on the back of his skull and waited patiently until he died.
HOLLY WAS STARING at the corpse and Reacher was sitting next to her, panting. He was spent and limp from the explosive force of tearing the iron ring out of the wall. It felt like a lifetime of physical effort had gone into one split second. A lifetime supply of adrenaline was boiling through him. The clock inside his head had stopped. He had no idea how long they had been sitting there. He shook himself and staggered to his feet. Dragged the body away and left it in the aisle, up near the open door. Then he wandered back and squatted next to Holly. His fingers were bruised from his desperate grip on the chain, but he forced them to be delicate. He did up all her buttons, one by one, right to the top. She was taking quick short breaths. Then she flung her arms round his neck and held on tight. Her breathing sucked and blew against his shirt.