The more I struggled, the harder his forearm jammed down on my neck, until finally I couldn't breathe. I kept fighting. I heard myself gasping. I saw the world tilting and darkening. But all I could feel was his hand at my waist, ripping at my jeans as he clawed and grabbed and grunted.

Then he was flying off me, Clay's face behind him, twisted with rage. Clay spun, holding Tesler by the back of his jacket, his skull on crash course with the wall, and I knew that's where it was headed. Clay was going to kill him. And I didn't care.

No, I did care. I was glad of it. I would do it myself if I had the chance. I could say I was doing it for the girls he'd raped and killed, to make sure there wasn't another, and while that was part of it, I was really doing it for me-so he would never get the chance to come back and rape me.

It only took a split second for Clay to whip Tesler around, for me to think I was glad of it, for Tesler's body to spasm in panic as he realized he was about to die. But in that moment, a second mutt flew around the corner.

I leapt to my feet to cut him off, but he was already in flight. He smacked into Clay's shoulder and threw him off balance. Clay didn't drop his prey, but that moment of reprieve was enough for Tesler. His feet found the ground and his fist headed for Clay's jaw. Clay ducked the blow, but in doing so, released him.

The second mutt was a smaller, wiry blond. I recognized his smell. He'd been in our hotel room, Dennis's cabin and the museum. Tesler's buddy, the one who'd introduced himself to Reese as "Dan." He grabbed Clay by the back of the coat, but I yanked him off his feet, breaking his grip on Clay.

And so we paired off. Dan gladly turned on me, leaving his bruiser of a friend to Clay. His first few strikes were half-hearted-if he dispatched me quickly, he'd have to leap into the fray with Clay.

When I dodged his blows and landed two of my own, Dan started fighting in earnest, still slow at first, like a pro with a full card ahead of him, trying to figure out the least amount of energy he can expend. But he soon figured out that a lower weight class doesn't necessarily mean an inferior fighter.

After a few hits Dan ducked a blow, danced to the side… and kept going, taking off across the parking lot. I chased him past two buildings, and then circled back to Clay.

Clay was having only moderately more trouble with his matchup. Tesler might be an expert at overpowering women, yet his fight skills were little better than the average Saturday night brawler's. If he landed a blow, it sent Clay reeling, but Clay was faster and more agile and easily dodged most of them, and soon figured out the guy's routine.

When a solid right hook sent Tesler spinning, Clay eased back and looked over at me.

"You want to take over, darling? Finish him?"

"Fuck off," Tesler snarled, spitting blood.

He swung. Clay ducked.

I stepped forward. "I've got it."

"Good. Just watch your clothes. He's a bleeder."

Tesler charged with a roar. Clay deftly veered out of his path… and I veered into it, catching Tesler's arm, wrenching and flipping him over my shoulder. He landed on his back, winded and blinking.

Again, I watched his leg muscles and sure enough, they bunched, and as soon as I was within reach, he sprang. He tried to grab my leg and yank me to the ground, but I wasn't going down. Even if it meant taking a blow I could have dodged, I wasn't going to give him any chance to get me on the ground again.

It didn't matter that Clay was there to protect me. I needed to know that I could best him.

At first, as long as I stayed on my feet, it was an even match. But I had rage on my side, and the balance started to shift. I landed a few good blows-cracking ribs and knocking out a tooth. Not that it mattered. This was only an exercise-me needing to prove something to myself-because when it was over, he wasn't walking away.

I took a glancing blow off the chin and reeled back, concentrating on keeping my balance. As I shook it off, Clay spun. Dan had returned, sneaking up behind us. Then a shadow passed overhead. I looked up to see another mutt on the roof.

"Clay!"

It was a split-second distraction that my opponent took full advantage of, diving at me and grabbing me around the waist as he tried to take me down. I locked my knees. Pain shot through my legs as they tried to bend in a way they weren't supposed to. I twisted and stumbled, but kept my balance.

The mutt on the roof jumped. He knocked Clay's shoulder as Clay tried to dance out of the way, then both mutts went at him. The new one was smaller than Dan-only a little bigger than Clay-but the family resemblance to Tesler was clear. This was the relative I'd faintly smelled at Dennis's cabin, the younger Tesler brother. A kick and a right hook from Clay sent him sprawling, leaving Clay with the smaller blond mutt.

Tesler senior rushed me. A high kick caught him in the chest and he stumbled back, then caught himself. I waited for him to rebound, but he stood there, rubbing his jaw. Playing possum again. The guy had a very limited repertoire. I waited for his move. But he didn't run at me… he went the other way.

Only after I'd chased him about a kilometer did I realize my mistake. I glanced back and, sure enough, Clay was in hot pur suit, his prey abandoned. Any other time, he'd have waited for my signal saying I needed help, but he wasn't leaving me alone with this one.

Even on open ground, Tesler kept his advantage, and a stabbing pain in my left thigh slowed me down, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.

When I heard the squeal of the train leaving the station, it gave me an idea. I waved my plan back to Clay. I didn't really need to. We've been together long enough that if he sees a runaway mutt and an oncoming train, he'll know what I'll have in mind.

I slowed. Clay changed direction, circling wide around Tesler. The mutt, hearing my pounding feet slow to a patter, glanced back and although I was a good ten meters away, I swore he smiled. I looked at him, then behind me, searching the empty horizon, as if looking for Clay.

I whistled. Then I whistled again, louder and more shrill, moving from "hey, where are you?" to "oh, shit, where are you?"

Tesler bent over, hands on his thighs, catching his breath. The wind had died down and I could hear him panting, almost in time with the chug of the approaching train. Behind him, Clay circled, unseen.

Still bent, Tesler studied me. He really wanted to finish it, but long fights and long runs weren't his forte and he was winded. He had to weigh the thrill of dominance against the smack-down of potential defeat at the hands of a woman, maybe his last defeat if Clay caught up. I could say the survival instinct won out, but I suspect it was ego-if he didn't choose to fight, I couldn't beat him. He straightened, then started turning to run.