The Death Match by Christa Faust Page A

brake, bringing the chain to an abrupt halt.
    When Matt was a kid, he’d been so eager to get a quarter from the tooth fairy that he’d tried tying a loose tooth to a doorknob and slamming the door. It hadn’t worked. It had felt almost as bad as this.
    The startled thug reacted to this turn of events with utter disbelief, as if a chandelier had suddenly goosed him. He turned and looked down at his belt and then back up at Matt.
    Matt let out a stifled grunt between his clenched teeth and cranked his neck, pulling harder. He could taste blood in his mouth. It seemed almost impossible, that he was going to lose a tooth before the snap on the end of the chain gave up its hold on the guard’s belt. Then the snap popped open and the chain smacked Matt in the face as his weight was suddenly released. He swung wildly backward and slammed into the pipe-covered wall behind him.
    He banged the back of his head on some kind of valve but managed to keep the chain between his teeth and grip a finger-thin pipe in his bound hands to prevent himself from careening wildly back into the angry guard.
    Before Matt could figure out his next move, the narrow pipe snapped with a sharp hissing sound. Matt swung away from the wall again, toward the surprised guard. The guard backed instinctively away, but not far enough. Matt’s head cracked the guard in the nuts like a medicine ball, doubling him over and then dropping him to one knee. Matt swung helplessly away and then back again, knocking heads with the kneeling guard but still clenching the swinging keys in his teeth.
    He had only seconds to free himself before the guard recovered, but he was also stunned from the impact. There was no time to clear his head. He had to act quickly.
    He swung the ring of keys on the end of the long chain up and to the right, twisting his bound hands around to the side of his body to try to catch the keys.
    Not even close.
    He made himself stay calm and try again, although he could see the guard slowly getting back to his feet and felt a trapped-animal kind of panic welling up inside his chest. He missed the keys again and a third time. The fourth time, the keys brushed his fingertips, but he still couldn’t catch them. He felt like screaming, but he forced himself to breathe slowly, ignore the wheezing guard, and try again.
    That time he got them.
    Gripping the keys in his tingling right hand, he felt for the little knife he thought he’d seen. Bingo. He thumbed out the blade and began sawing through the rope that bound his wrists.
    He managed to nick his rope-burned skin more than once, but he got himself free and did a tight upside-down crunch to disconnect the chain around his ankles from the hook that held him.
    Once unhooked, he landed hard on the stone, sending a painful jolt through his back and neck. But he recovered quickly and rolled behind the sofa. Now that the weight of his body was no longer keeping the chain around his ankles taut, it was no problem to free his legs. He wrapped the length of chain around his hand and prepared himself for the inevitable attention that the sound of his fall would bring.
    Long turned to see Matt free from his bondage and waved an annoyed hand at the flanking thugs, more irritated at the interruption than worried by Matt’s escape.
    Matt dove for his ax as the two men closed in on him. He was able to grab it and scuttle, crablike, half backward and half sideways until he felt the pipe-covered wall behind him.
    He stood, chain in one hand and ax in the other, watching the thugs with one eye and the action in the pit with the other.
    There was a tense stalemate inside the pit, both women locked up tight and neither willing to give an inch. From Matt’s angle, he could see Tanya’s lips moving, whispering something to Stacy.
    Whatever she said, it galvanized Stacy like a cattle prod. She went totally ballistic, unleashing a furious offensive assault against Tanya. Up until that point, it seemed like Stacy had