Pain radiated from his spine.
Still, they grappled. Swinging and breathing hard. In a tangle of curses and flying fists, they rolled near the water, Pierce trying to block the blows, Jamison spitting blood and punching wildly.
Wrestling near the pool’s rim.
Landing punches.
Jabbing.
Swearing.
Pain jolting with each hit.
Pierce attempted to pin Jamison, but his opponent’s fist shot upward, slamming into Pierce’s cheek with a sickening crunch.
In a surge of strength, Jamison arched his back muscles, yelled, and flipped Pierce onto his back. Pain rattled Pierce’s vertebrae. A seaof red blocked his vision as blood rained down from Jamison’s wide nostrils.
“You sanctimonious son of a bitch!” Jamison cried, ready to strike again.
Despite the pain and weight pinning him down, Pierce twisted, every muscle in his body straining with the lift.
Jamison’s legs tightened.
But his balance shifted.
One final push.
They toppled.
Entangled.
Over the edge.
Splashed into the water.
Jamison’s legs loosened.
Pierce kicked.
With as much force as he could muster.
Then again as Jamison flailed, gulping water.
Quickly, Pierce swam underwater, putting as much distance as he could between him and Jamison, and surfacing near the waterfall, shaking the water from his hair, zeroing his gaze on Jamison as he bobbed to the surface fifteen feet away.
Blood from Jamison’s nose ran into the water.
But the fight had been washed from him in the cold water.
“Oh, Christ,” he muttered, blinking. He was in the shallower end, able to stand, his shoulders slumping. “Shit,” he muttered, using two hands to scrape his hair from his face. “God! I’m—Oh, hell. What the fuck was I thinking?”
“You tell me.” Pierce treaded water, his gaze fixed on the man who was either friend or foe, depending on his run of emotions.
Jamison swiped at the end of his nose with his arm. “I don’t … Oh, fuck.” He looked up at the sky as if searching for answers.
“You okay?” Pierce asked, easing toward the ladder.
“Hell, no. Would you be?” Jamison asked.
