Читать книгу Bound by Dreams - Christina Skye - Страница 8

THEY CAME AT HER without warning. One minute Kiera Morissey had been cursing Draycott Abbey and its arrogant owner, determined to make her visit short so she could be gone forever.

Now she was struggling for her life against violent men in black masks. Her mother’s deathbed request had led her straight into a nightmare.

A rag blocked her mouth, making her gag. Rough hands gripped her wrists, twisting until she moaned. She was supposed to be fighting memories, not violent assailants. Who were these people? What did they want with her?

Security guards? Kiera would have expected the Draycott family to post a team of bad-tempered Neanderthals to guard their precious privacy. But would they condone this kind of violence?

The wind snapped through the trees. Birds exploded over her head as she fought harder. Plastic bonds locked her wrists sharply. She couldn’t see, striking out at her attackers by feel alone. She knew there were two of them, and so far they had said only a few words, all of them in a language that sounded Slavic.

This was a private unit of hired foreign thugs, meant to protect the aristocratic owner of the abbey and his family? Hard to believe, even for the arrogant Draycotts.

She didn’t frighten easily, though she hadn’t been prepared for an attack on a quiet country road in the English countryside.

Now she was focused, ready to fight back. Her father had taught her self-defense as soon as she was big enough to hold a Muy Thai stick and play at kickboxing moves. Yet in her emotion at her first glimpse of Draycott Abbey, she had violated the crucial rule: Always stay prepared.

Now her attackers were going to get a little surprise.

Kiera made the move exactly as her father had taught her. She went completely limp, toppling sideways. Before her beefy captor could adjust to her sudden falling weight in his arms, she snapped forward and kicked him solidly in the groin.

His wheeze of stunned shock told her he had expected fear and blind compliance. No way, dog breath.

The second his hands loosened, she dropped to her knees, rolled and then shot toward the woods. She was in good shape. She also had a five-yard lead on the second attacker. She grabbed the top of the abbey’s stone fence, pulled herself up and threw one leg over.

But her pursuer lunged and managed to grab her ankle just before it cleared the fence. He jerked her backward, her face scraping against the stones. Blood gushed over her lip, but when he tried to shove her down beneath him, she clawed at his eyes, sending him reeling.

Unfortunately Attacker Two had sewer breath. He was also the size of a Mack truck. With a jerk of his callused hands, he drove her flat onto the ground. Then he stood over her, one heel pressed at her throat.

Bad sign, Kiera thought.

Any second she would have a crushed windpipe.

“What do you want?” She hated that her voice was high and spiky. The heel pressed to her throat started to grind down. “Okay, are you some kind of private police? Security guards from Draycott Abbey?” She spoke wildly, saying anything that came to mind.

His foot froze. A good sign.

“I mean, if you’re hired by Viscount Draycott, I can explain.”

His breath caught.

Kiera still couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but she heard his clothes rustle and then the click of a cell phone opening. He muttered something in a language that definitely sounded Slavic, then waited for an answer. Hoping for a distraction, she went perfectly still on the ground, but the pressure on her throat never loosened, nor did his gaze leave her face. Clearly this gorilla had military or professional security training, and now his focus was almost palpable.

Simple tricks weren’t going to work with this one.

In the distance she heard the low growl of a motor. Picking up speed. Coming closer.

Straight in her direction.

Attacker One grunted, slowly recovering, one hand to his eyes. Kiera’s mind raced through escape scenarios. Her father had taught her dozens. No way was she going to be a statistic on the evening news.

When the gorilla closed his cell phone, Kiera focused. He reached down, jerking her to her feet.

She twisted and dug two fingers into his neck, precisely at the vulnerable notch of his collarbone. Muscle flexed and then cartilage tore nicely. While he was still hunched over in shock, she sank her teeth into his palm, deep enough to feel skin part. Bone ground beneath her teeth.

She spit out blood but the man’s grip held firm. His growl of fury didn’t quite cover the sound of the car motor nearby.

Panic squeezed hard. Damn, damn, damn. How many more men were inside the car?

Then Kiera heard leaves rustle.

Something was moving toward her from the far side of the fence. There was no mistaking the snap of twigs, the harsh breathing, the sounds made by a very large animal.

There was something strange about that rough breathing. Or maybe it was hypoxia starting to kick in. She aimed two more satisfying collarbone jabs as her attacker’s fingers locked around her throat.

Dizziness tore at her vision.

Oxygen almost gone.

A dark shape exploded over the stone fence. Kiera heard the slap of a body and then the sound of bushes shaking. She could see almost nothing as she fought her furious captor. Then abruptly she was free, her attacker sinking to one knee.

Car lights cut across the road, closing in fast as Kiera shot across the pavement to the far slope, where the ground fell away abruptly at the edge of a creek. Diving over the bank, she tucked sharply and landed in a sprawl at the bottom.

The sounds were muffled here. Up on the bank she heard the squeal of brakes and harsh voices, followed by a scream of pure terror.

Something growled. The sound made Kiera’s hair stand on end. She had seen predators in zoos throughout Europe, but she had never heard that kind of growl, a sound that held cunning and intelligence.

Whatever the animal was, she wasn’t staying around for introductions. She stumbled along the muddy edge of the stream, keeping her body low so she would be invisible to any attacker looking down from the road. Following the stream would bring her to a second road. Her rental car was parked only a few hundred yards away from that point.

Safe.

Her hands shook. She forced herself to stay calm. She was alive, no one’s captive.

Then a bullet hit the bushes only inches away from her hand. Kiera plunged straight into the mud and stayed down, breathing hard.

Reining in her urge to flee blindly.

But that was what they’d expect. Rule Two: Never do the expected.

Behind her the wind carried a man’s guttural shout of pain and a rapid burst of gunfire from the road.

She heard another growl, this one the short, angry sound of an animal that was cornered. Wounded maybe. Something about the pain held Kiera still. Her hands opened and closed jerkily. Climbing the slope, she crept through the woods far above the point where she had been attacked. In a beam of car lights she saw motion and dim, grappling figures. Another burst of gunfire drilled the creek she had just left. Back on the road a man shouted angry orders, again in a language that sounded Slavic.

Kiera’s foot struck a boulder. When she looked down, she saw she had stumbled over a man’s body. He was alive, judging by his labored breathing, and a revolver lay on the ground inches from his twitching hand. She didn’t think twice, scooping up the weapon. Instead of turning toward her car, she crept back toward the road.

Going back? This had to be insanity, even with a weapon.

Then the animal, probably some kind of mastiff or mixed-breed husky, gave another sharp howl of pain.

Kiera’s fists clenched. They were killing the dog.

The moon broke from behind racing clouds, giving her a glimpse of the scene on the road. One man was climbing into a waiting car. A second man swayed sharply, clutching his arm. He turned and gave harsh orders, gesturing to the far side of the road, where Kiera had crossed minutes before. He was sending his men after her, she realized.

Two figures vanished down the slope of the creek, and she saw the remaining man back up, suddenly frozen by something near the stone fence. Her breath caught.

A shadow separated from the tall grass. It was the biggest dog she had ever seen, long and sleek. Every motion carried the stamp of effortless, fierce power.

The man with the gun cursed, but the animal was faster, leaping through the darkness. Kiera heard four shots in quick succession.

She flinched, certain that no animal could survive such an attack at close range. With the pistol weighing against her palm, she reacted by instinct, flicking off the safety, dropping behind the foliage of a small tree and aiming carefully.

Her first bullet drove up gravel near the car’s back tire. Her second shot hit the back windshield, cracking the glass. She didn’t stay to see more. One small diversion was all she could afford. As Kiera dodged back into the trees, bullets tore off a branch near her hand. Footsteps pounded over the road.

He was coming after her.

She ran through the woods, caught in darkness as the moon vanished behind the clouds. With the attacker bearing down, she caught the lowest branch of a tree and swung one leg up. She clawed her way up another ten feet, then curled into a ball, absolutely still.

Grass rustled, and then a man ran directly beneath her. His footsteps hammered on into the trees.

Long seconds passed. The car idling back on the road gave two sharp bursts on the horn. Leaves scratched Kiera’s face and she felt a bug fall down the back of her jacket, but she kept resolutely still.

Twigs snapped. The man with the gun returned slowly, swinging his outstretched arm directly beneath her.

Through the leaves, Kiera saw the car lights flash to high, then flicker twice.

Some kind of a message, that was clear. She prayed it would call him back. But the man didn’t move, studying the darkness intently.

Sweat trickled between her shoulders. Another bug hit her cheek. The car horn sounded sharply.

The man strode off. Seconds later the car roared away.

Silence fell. The wind brushed her face.

But Kiera didn’t move. Her legs were locked, her muscles taut with the aftereffects of fear. The temperature had fallen and she began to shiver. Running through damp fields and crossing streams hadn’t been in her game plan when she’d dressed that evening.

But she was alive. There was a sharp beauty to the night, to the chiaroscuro pattern of the leaves caught against the faint moonlight. Closing her eyes, she breathed a sigh of thanks.

Still shaking, she swung her legs over the lowest branch. With trembling hands she hung for a moment and then dropped to the ground, wincing at a sudden pain in her foot. There was no sign of pursuit. The night was silent as she crossed the road warily.

Dark tracks lined the mud. A man’s jacket lay nearby, dropped and forgotten. There was no sign of the big dog that the men had been tormenting, probably a guard dog from one of the surrounding estates. Yet there had been something strange about the animal’s size and its powerful movements. Even now the memory left her with an unsettling sense of savage strength held in precarious control.

And as she stood in the clearing at the edge of the road, looking at the distant line of the abbey’s roof, Kiera had the strangest sense that someone was watching her.

But nothing moved; nothing barked or stirred in the foliage.

“Who’s there?” she whispered.

A bird cried in the distance. Goose bumps rose along her arms. Time to leave, she told herself firmly. If someone found her here, with the marks of the attack all around her, she would have no easy way to explain. And there was always a possibility that the thugs might come back.

Fortunately, she had planned for a quick escape. Her backpack was hidden in the grass near her rental car, and her keys were under a rock nearby. Yet still she didn’t move. Something called her gaze through the trees, toward the moon touching the distant hills.

In the sudden silver light she saw the sharp outline of Draycott Abbey’s parapets. Kiera fought against a strange, almost hypnotic force of calm from the sight. Despite her anger at the Draycotts there was so much beauty here. So much history.

Then she felt the weight of the gun shoved into her pocket. It would have to be disposed of safely. She remembered there was a church about a mile from her hotel. She could remove the last remaining bullets and then slip the weapon into the mail slot.

One problem solved. Kiera took a deep breath.

That left her whole future yet to tackle.

HE LAY in the high grass, shaking.

Shaken.

His speed was gone, his muscles jerky. Blood covered his ear and dripped into his eye. He remembered the metal blade and then the sudden slam of bullets. He hadn’t reacted fast enough, never suspecting an attack at Draycott’s very border.

No excuse for bad judgment. No excuse for stupidly letting down his guard. He had too much to hide to ever be stupid or careless.

He made a short, angry sound and stood slowly in the darkness, wincing at sharp pains in a dozen places.

Wind in his face. A thousand sounds from the forest around him. None of them were caused by men.

He shook off the grass and dirt and watched the moon’s fierce silver curve climb above the abbey’s roof.

Change, he thought.

His nails dug at the damp ground, muscles tensed. But his body refused. Every nerve fought the familiar command.

From the woods came the low cry of a bird. The night called him to run, to feel the moonlight on his bare skin. Change, he thought furiously. And still nothing happened.

He remembered a sharp stab at his shoulder. They had used some kind of needle during the struggle. The darkness blurred as he sank to his knees. With a fierce effort of will he clawed his way back over the stone fence, back onto abbey ground.

He had to change. All his will focused on the command, yet no muscle shifted. Weakness pulled at him. The ground swayed.

Death moved in his eyes and he smelled its bitter breath on his face.

Not yet, he swore, struggling over the grass. Instinct told him he had to keep moving, that the toxin coursing through his veins would affect a man far worse than the creature he was now.

Damn them.

With a growl of pain he leaped over the cool earth, forcing stiff muscles to full stride. His vision blurred with pain, but he kept moving.

He smelled her suddenly. Loping through the woods, he came to the boulder where she had sat in the moonlight only minutes before.

Minutes that felt like a cold eternity now.

Her tears still clung to the damp grass. The scent dug under his skin, spelling the essence of female, and his body responded with almost painful awareness. Searching the rock, he found more of her scent, captured in a fallen square of cloth. His hunger grew and he realized there was danger here, danger from the blind urge to leap the fence and stalk her faint tracks until he ran her to ground.

And then he would have her.

He turned to stare back toward the road, pulled in every nerve and muscle, drawn by unexplainable need. In that heartbeat pain became his friend, forcing his focus to the cuts and welts that throbbed fiercely.

Still groggy, he burst over the hill, driven by sudden anger.

And then the world tilted. Darkness swallowed him under its wings like the rest of its creatures of night.