Wade by Jennifer Blake

halfexpected to see him sliced open, but he sidestepped that first swiping blow. Circling Ahmad, he avoided the next slash with such smooth agility that he made it appear effortless. Swaying, leaping back from the plunging, roundhouse slices, he drew her stepbrother away from where Chloe stood. Then he skidded to a halt in a half crouch and whipped a hard arm behind his back. When he brought if forward again, a snub-nosed handgun was in his fist with the bore held rock-steady on Ahmad’s chest.
    Chloe put a hand to her mouth to stifle the sharp cry that rose inside her. Her gaze was not on the weapon, however, but on the dark wetness that cut across the front of Wade Benedict’s black T-shirt, gleaming as it angled down to the waistband of his jeans.
    Ahmad stopped. His eyes narrowed as he saw that his adversary was armed. Then his gaze fell to the evidence of injury. “This is interference that you are going to regret, American dog. I told you what would happen if you once more put your unclean hands on the woman who will be my wife.”
    â€œYour wife?” A sardonic smile curled the American’s mouth. “Funny she didn’t want to stick around for the wedding.”
    â€œHer desires make no difference.”
    â€œLord, but you have a lot to learn about women.”
    â€œI know well how to treat bitches.”
    â€œThat explains it,” the American drawled. “Wrong breed.”
    Ahmad shifted the knife in his hand, as if itching for a target. Voice uneven, he said, “You show your ignorance now, for she has proved what kind she is by enticing my sister’s husband with her evil wiles and woman’s body. She used him to heap shame on my house. She holds him in such thrall that he even obeyed when told to send for you.”
    â€œNo!” Treena cried.
    The two men paid no attention. His gaze on Ahmad’s face, the American asked, “And you still mean to marry the lady? Money has a way of overcoming principles, doesn’t it?”
    â€œSo does revenge,” Ahmad answered on a growl. “I guessed the vice in her, but now I am sure of it. I watched this house as Ismael left it on the way to your hotel, watched you arrive with him. For this added betrayal, the man who should have been as my brother will die with the woman when I am master of both her and her wealth.”
    â€œYou needn’t hold it against him, since I was on my way anyhow.”
    Even as Wade spoke, Treena released her grasp on her husband’s hand and started toward her brother. “No,” she said again.
    â€œDon’t!” Agonized supplication sounded in Ismael voice. He reached out to catch her arm, but she avoided him.
    Ahmad barely glanced at his sister. “Fear not. You will also be avenged.”
    â€œI spit on your revenge,” she said in a voice thatrang with fear and pride. “It was not my husband who helped Chloe deceive you, not his heart that wept tears for her future as your wife. I have been her accomplice and her savior. It was I who sent Ismael. It was I!”
    Treena’s advance had brought her within a few feet of Ahmad. Now he lifted his head, straightened slowly from his fighter’s crouch to face his sister. His fingers gleamed white at the knuckles where they clenched his blade. “You,” he repeated as if he’d never heard the word before. Then his face contorted with terrible, murderous anguish.
    Terror engulfed Chloe. She opened her mouth to call out, but no sound emerged. Time slowed to a crawl. As she stepped forward with her gaze fastened on her stepsister’s face, it was as if the air was as thick and viscous as oil. She saw Ahmad heave around and strike out in a sweeping, backhanded cut. The blade in his hand reflected a strange blue light in the dimness. It reached toward Treena. As it flashed past her throat, it left a red line in its wake.
    Treena gave a bubbling sigh and lifted her hands to her neck.