But why come here? Why come to a remote, seemingly uninhabited island with nothing to offer? Nothing to gain? But I knew. They’d come for me.
I chewed my bottom lip, straining to see how many. Ten? Twenty? It didn’t matter; even one was too many. But only if they caught me.
The ocean roared in my ears, a frantic, tattooed rhythm all too familiar: Danger, Blue. Death. Run, run, run. In the end, in spite of the tricks the ocean played on me, the death and destruction it brought with the waves, it always warned me. And the ocean was always right.
“Run, Max, just run.” I turned and raced from the dune toward home.
The last Runner ship had come five years ago. And now they were here, en masse. Whose fault? Gabriel Black’s. My life and Max’s hung in the balance. Whose fault? Gabriel Black’s. Gabriel. It had to be.
Ain’t no such thing as coincidence, Blue. If ya think so, you’re just like your father, a damned fool.
“Shut up, Seamus. Just shut the hell up,” I yelled into the wind. I couldn’t afford to think about him, couldn’t spare the time. I focused every second on survival: mine, Max’s, but what of Gabriel Black? My lungs screamed in protest as I slammed up to my door. I stood with my back to the wood, sliding down into a crouching position. I hung my head. I knew what I would do. And I could do it. After all, Seamus O’Malley’s blood ran through my veins, and I could feel the icy coldness of it as it approached my heart, hardening and numbing along the way.
I stood and slowly pulled the knife from the small of my back. What to do about Gabriel? It would be a logical, easy decision for Uncle Seamus. Guess for once in my miserable life I’d make him proud. Too bad he wasn’t around to see it. But it didn’t matter. I’d made my decision.
I was going to kill Gabriel Black.
Chapter Four
I wanted to kick in the door, enter screaming like a madwoman. I’d plunge the knife into his heart, throw the sleeping bag over his bleeding, dead body, grab my backpack, start the fire, and run.
I would run with Max into the cedars and fog.
Run from the death, run from the terror, run from my guilt. I’d become a monster; of that much I was sure. But I had to start the fire. I had time for the fire. I’d destroy it all— my equipment, my clothes, my bra with the knot, my pretty glass floats hanging from a pseudo Christmas tree—anything to confuse my would-be captors. So why did the vision of the tiny tree lapped in yellow flames bring me near to tears? Stupid, Blue. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Why had I stayed here so long this time? I knew better—I knew better. But after the fire, they’d find the body. And it would take them a while to figure out it wasn’t me. Not forever, but a while. And a while might be all I needed.
I had a backup plan. I always had a backup plan. Still, I’d gotten too comfortable here. I’d gotten sloppy. I had a plan B, but not a great one. Not a great plan at all, considering it involved a tiny boat in an angry sea on a deadly winter’s day. Shit. Plan B sounded like a folk song. Again, I knew better.
My hand shook as I reached for the knob; so much for entering like a madwoman. I thought he might be asleep. I thought that I could save us both from the horror. I thought… Hell, I didn’t know what I thought. It wasn’t like I did this every day. I opened the door, sick to my stomach, and walked in.
He lay unmoving, the plaid flannel lining of the sleeping bag folded open. He was partially on top of it, partially in. It was as if in a restless sleep he didn’t know whether he was hot or cold, as if he didn’t know my warm, naked body was gone, or if he did, he was inviting me back. He lay on his stomach, his smooth, strong back with that sun-kissed skin exposed, unmarred and perfect.
Except for the small tattoo on his shoulder blade.
I had missed it last night. I had let him sleep on his back, too frightened to move him, too exhausted to think of it, too taken by…by him. A mistake, Blue, I chastised myself, a deadly one.
The lines were crude, prison quality, so unlike the elegant, graceful lines that adorned my arm. But the mark was unmistakable: 666, with a dagger running through it.
I was prepared for it. I’d seen it before. Up close and personal on the night I’d almost been raped.
Gabriel had managed to dress in his black jeans, and he’d found what he could within reach: his socks, his thermal shirt, which lay beside him waiting for the handcuff to come off.
I gripped my knife. The cuffs would come off—no use giving the Runners a hint that big—but not until I’d killed him.
Max scratched at the door and whined. Gabriel stirred. I had to move fast, before Max gave away the element of surprise. But in truth? I had to move fast, before I lost my nerve.
I hadn’t dared bring Max in with me. I had no idea how he would react to the fire. I had no idea how he would react to my harming Gabriel Black.
I steeled myself as I approached, moving silently, deadly. I knew what to do. I knew how to kill. And I wasn’t proud of that.
Softly, so very softly, I knelt. I knew where to plunge the blade, where to strike the death blow. Why did I live in a world where I knew crap like this? Why?
I raised the blade, my hand shook, and a lone tear tracked down my cheek. I hated the Runners. I’d seen what they could do. The trail of blood and broken souls they left behind in their wake. This man deserved to die; they were his brethren, his good-old-boy club, his fucking partners from hell. The knife slammed down hard, tearing through thick fabric and futon, impaling the floor. The blade was a mere inch from his tattooed shoulder.
“Sorry, Seamus,” I whispered bitterly. “I won’t be joining you or any other Runner in hell. At least, not for this sin.”
I moved to retrieve my knife, but not fast enough.
Gabriel moved every bit as quickly, twisting and grabbing my ankle, pulling my legs out from under me. I went down hard, but I wasn’t worried. Not yet. He was still cuffed. I had too much fury inside and I took it out on his ribs, kicking him violently with my boot. He let go, and I jumped to my feet. “You bastard Runner,” I yelled. “I should have let you die.”
Fluid, fast, graceful, he did the impossible.
He stood.
I had it wrong on the beach. Not six foot, at least six-two. He had broad, powerful shoulders, muscled arms, and large fists clenched so tight that the knuckles were white. Okay. So this was not good.
“Great, you’re Houdini,” I said, now realizing the fatal mistake I’d made. I underestimated his strength. I mean, I’d thought the man was dying. Who knew he’d turn into Hercules after a good night’s sleep? He’d lifted the stove, a cast-iron stove, that weighed what? Ten tons? And slipped the cuff free.
“You meant to kill me,” he said. His voice had a razor edge of rage to it. Guess I wasn’t the only one who was pissed.
“Yeah, tough guy, that was the plan. As you can see, I missed.” That was a lie. I never miss. And boy, was I ever regretting my decision about now.
He said nothing. He just reached down and pulled the embedded bowie knife out of the fabrics and cedar plank like he was plucking a feather. Great. This is the part where I get gutted like a king salmon with my own blade.
Max was going crazy outside. It sounded like he was going to take the door down. And he was big enough to do it.
“Let the dog in.”
I looked at the towering man who now held my knife, and glared. “I don’t take orders, tough guy, especially from you.” I let my disgust show and added, “Runner.”
“Well”—he walked toward me—“to use your words”—he held the knife under my chin—“I have the knife.” He held the blade just as I had, pushing the tip into my flesh. It didn’t puncture, didn’t cut. He was either more considerate than I was or he was saving the good part for later. I’d bet all my twenty-dollar bills that he was saving the good part for later.
I raised my head defiantly and glared into those onyx eyes. I showed no fear. I had learned long ago that showing fear was either the quickest way to death or, even worse, the
easiest way to prolong it.
“The dog,” he said in that smooth, silken voice. A voice laced with warning. He motioned toward the door with my blade.
I had no choice. “Fine.” I raised a brow of my own. “It’s your funeral. Hurt me, and Max will tear your throat out.” Gabriel shrugged. I turned for the door, paused, and glared over my shoulder.
Gabriel gave my knife a few spins. Damn it. He was better at it than I was. Well, that was just what I needed: a dose of humiliation to go along with my murder. How nice.
My hand paused at the door. Fear crept up my spine. Its icy fingers gripped my heart and squeezed.
I wasn’t afraid for me. It was Max. He had been such a big part of my life for the last five years, a daily companion, nonjudging, accepting, fun. And of all the things that I’d experienced in my life, fun had been in short supply. Until Max. And I’d just put him in harm’s way. I’d threatened Gabriel with him.
“Don’t hurt my dog,” I said without turning around. “Please.” I could hear my uncle laughing from the grave. I could hear his taunts and criticism and jeers. Trading your life for a dog’s. That’s rich, Blue. Knew you’d amount to nothin’. You and your bleedin’ heart. You really are your father’s daughter.
Gabriel said nothing, and I knew my uncle was right. I hadn’t amounted to much, just a voice in the night that tried to do the right thing. Well, right now, right this minute, I was going to do the right thing. I was going to save Max. My fate was sealed. Too much time had passed. Either this Runner or another would determine my fate. And it wouldn’t be pretty. I didn’t have to take Max down that road with me.
I opened the door. My dog tore into the room, jumping and bounding all over me. He almost knocked me down. And before I could grab his rope collar, the one I’d made with a series of nautical knots, he rushed over to Gabriel.
“Max, no!” A near scream came out of my mouth. “Stand down.”
For the first time in five years, Max ignored my command. He proceeded to jump all over Gabriel Black. Max wagged his tail and danced around Gabriel’s legs, even licking his hands. Gabriel smiled and, with his cuffed hand, now just a bracelet, he tousled Max’s head. The second handcuff swung wildly. The two were having a love fest. If I weren’t in a life-and-death situation—my life and my death—I might have paused long enough to be jealous.
I bolted for the door.
Two things happened at once.
The knife flew past my left ear and slammed deep into the wall, while a large hand grabbed my neck, yanking me up and backward. I flew hard into a solid chest. It felt like I had hit a brick wall. What was it with this guy and his ripped and muscled body? It wasn’t like we had gym memberships anymore. Guess water aerobics were working for him now.
He had me, and before I could stomp on his instep and shove an elbow in his gut, he turned me to face him, sliding his hands around my neck. Gabriel applied just enough strength to let me know he could snap my neck in under a blink.
Max whined and stood, moving his head from one of us to the other.
Gabriel moved close, his mouth next to mine. “Let’s not upset the dog,” he said.
“Oh, let’s,” I whispered.
But Gabriel knew what I had in mind, and he moved like lightning before I could land a perfectly aimed blow to his groin. What a waste of a knee thrust.
Gabriel moved behind me and held my arms pinned at my back. I gasped at the sudden pain in my shoulder joints. Max growled. His hackles rose, and I could see fangs. Oh, good boy. Good. Boy. I had a moment of hope.
“Down,” Gabriel’s voice thundered, and Max dropped to the floor, whining. My heart sank. What had happened to my dog?
Gabriel released my arms and once again turned me to face him, this time gripping my wrists. “Like I said, Blue. Let’s not upset the dog.”
We stood there for a moment, glaring at each other. His dark eyes were unreadable. I had no idea what his next move would be. Or mine.
The Runners’ siren cut through the fog and distance, filtering through my open door. Carried on the wind, the warning sounded loud, clear, unmistakable. They’d hit the beach, and subtlety was not their style. They liked to make their presence known. They liked their quarry to run and cry and hide. And they loved the blood hunt. They lived for it.
“Your buddies are here, tough guy,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You had better hurry and kill me, or you’ll have to share.”
Gabriel stood like a statue, cocking his head, listening. His dark eyes narrowed and he gripped my wrists harder.
He pulled me to him with such force that I stumbled, falling into his arms. He crushed his mouth to mine in a bruising kiss that both surprised and frightened me. It took my breath away. The kiss ended as abruptly as it had started. He dropped me on the futon like a duffel bag, while he reached down and retrieved his shirt. He looked at me as he finished pulling his thermal over his head. “I don’t share,” he said.
Why, oh, why, did I mouth off about that sharing thing? My heart kicked into high gear. To hell with showing no fear. I was terrified. He would have me first. Then hand me over to those animals to finish the job.
Bile climbed into my throat, and I thought for a moment that I was going to be sick. I panicked, jumped up, and tried to push by him. He caught my wrist and twisted me toward him. What could I do? He was Goliath to my David. And me without a slingshot. Or at the very least a twelve-inch bowie knife. Max stood up, whining.
“I’m leaving, and you’re coming with me. Get what you need—not much, we travel light—and we leave now.” He released me and reached for his belt.
“We?” I rubbed my wrist where red welts were starting to rise.
He stopped threading his belt through loops and leveled that dark look of his at me. “You have two choices, Blue. One, you come with me and live. Two, you stay here and die.”
My fear disappeared, replaced by red-hot anger. “There is no ‘we,’ Gabriel Black. Just me. Just Max. Choice three? I take my dog and leave. Without you, tough guy. It’s that ‘three’s a crowd’ thing, Gabriel. And don’t get your feelings hurt, but you’re not invited to the party.” I leaned in close. “I just don’t think you’d be a lot of fun.” I started to shove past him for a second time, heading for my knife.
He shook his head, dark eyes hiding…what? That had better not be amusement. I wasn’t starring in a comedy here.
A second burst of sirens sounded, and Gabriel grabbed my wrist again. He held up his hand where the cuff dangled. To my amazement, the dangled cuff was open, and in a move that defied logic, he snapped the cuff on me. My bunk buddy and I were now officially hooked up. Unbelievable.
I yanked hard at the cuff in frustration, but he held firm, his wrist hardly moving. For a guy who had been a Popsicle the night before, his strength was amazing.
“Why?”
“Like I said, we’re out of here. You. Me. We.”
I fought the urge to cry. I just couldn’t wrap my brain around the fact that I’d been caught by Runners. But I wouldn’t cry. Crying was out of the question. I glared into the darkness of his eyes. “Why the road trip, Gabriel? Why not just get on with it and do what you Runners do best?”
“What is it we do, Blue?” he asked softly.
“Rape. Plunder. Kill.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “Torture.” Visions of my uncle’s mutilated body flashed into my head. I felt sick all over again. “You know,” I continued, pushing through the nausea and finding false bravado, “the usual pirate shit. I only remind you that I saved your life, so…” I paused and hung my head, not wanting to say it. Not wanting to beg.
“So?” he said.
I raised my head and looked into his eyes. “So maybe you can just skip to the kill part. I mean, come on, tough guy. Give a girl a break. I’m not the party girl you think I am.”
The fear must have shown on my face, because his features softened. He looked thoughtful, almost sad. And that scared me. What did he have to be sad about? H
e was the Runner. He had me cuffed. He had the advantage.
I tried to keep my voice steady as I pleaded in my own proud way. “I’m really not into the whole gang scene, ya know? And I’m not gonna lie, I’m shy that way.” There. That was as close to begging as I’d ever get. And I was sure it wasn’t nearly enough. I bit my lower lip to keep it from trembling.
I couldn’t be sure what emotion passed over his face, but I hoped it wasn’t pity. I didn’t want his or anyone else’s. I just wanted to die with a little fucking dignity. Not like Seamus. Never like Seamus.
He wrapped his free arm around me and pulled me to him. He rested his chin on the top of my head for a moment. And then with a featherlight brush to my lips with his, he whispered, “Like I said, Blue, I don’t share. Not ever. You’re mine now. And you and I—that is, ‘we’—are out of here.”
Chapter Five
I paused on the obscure, narrow footpath that wound up through the terrain of Cady Mountain and looked at the trail of smoke that snaked into a gray, dripping sky.
Remnants of my cabin.
Gone now, along with whatever dreams I had of a stable home. I’d so wanted a tiny dot in this universe that I could call mine. And I almost had it. Almost.
Gabriel gave me a moment before the now familiar tug at my wrist broke my thoughts. And as if sensing my need for validation of the destruction of everything I ever owned, he handed me the binoculars. I held the dual lenses to my eyes, and the excellent optics captured what I’d feared most over the last eleven years.
Runners.
An army of Runners swarmed around the charred remains of my cabin. From my vantage point they looked like nothing more than ants, but I knew up close and personal that they were men of huge stature, with ice for blood and no souls to guide them. I lowered the lenses and took a deep breath before I held the binoculars up once again. I now knew one more thing for certain.
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