Running for Cover. Shirlee McCoy

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СКАЧАТЬ face as she closed the door and jumped off the stoop, crashing into something yielding but firm. She tried to scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off the sound. Morgan fought, kicking and punching as an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her tight against a hard chest.

      “Calm down, lady. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m not in the mood for trouble, so until I figure things out, let’s both lie low.” The gruff baritone seemed familiar, but Morgan was too scared to care. She twisted and pulled against his arm as he maneuvered her into the heavy bushes that hugged the foundation of the gallery.

      “Someone’s coming. You need to keep still and quiet. Understand?” the man whispered, his lips pressed close to Morgan’s ear.

      She nodded, but wasn’t sure she understood anything. Not how a peaceful night at home had turned into a nightmare or how her jailed ex-husband could still be ruining her life or who the man holding her was.

      “Good, because Jude won’t be happy if I’m a no-show tomorrow.” His grip eased, his hand slipping away from Morgan’s mouth, his other arm still wrapped tightly around her waist.

      Footsteps sounded on pavement, the quick, hard tap of booted feet sending a shiver along Morgan’s spine and filling her with terror. Hiding wasn’t good enough. They needed to run. She shifted, but was held firmly in place as the footsteps faded. The loamy scent of earth filled her nose, mixing with something subtle and masculine. Morgan should be terrified, should be fighting to free herself and run, but her head throbbed, her ribs ached and the warmth of the man holding her, the darkness that surrounded them, offered a false sense of safety that she wanted desperately to believe in.

      The man who held her leaned close to her ear again, his breath ruffling her hair as he spoke. “Who is he? Boyfriend? Husband?”

      “No.”

      “A stranger?”

      “Yes. Two of them. They’ve got guns,” she rasped out, the words too loud and harsh.

      “Stay here, I’ll—”

      “No.” Morgan grabbed his arm. She didn’t know anything about him, but right now having him around was a lot better than being alone.

      “We can’t sit here waiting to be found.”

      “Maybe they’ll go away.”

      “No, they won’t. Stay down. I’m just going to look and see what direction they’re heading.” He eased away, moving so silently Morgan heard nothing but the rapid pulse of her blood and the rasping gasp of her breath.

      She waited a few seconds, her heart slamming against her ribs. At any moment one of the men who’d held her captive in her own home, who’d beaten her unconscious and left her lying bleeding on the kitchen floor, could find her and it would all be over. All the hard work she’d put into opening her gallery, Clay Treasures, all the years she’d spent dreaming of reuniting with her siblings, all the time she’d spent searching for them, would end on the pavement of a parking lot in a small town she never would have come to if not for her ex-husband. Trusting Cody, letting him into her heart had been the biggest mistake of Morgan’s life. She’d vowed after her divorce to rely only on herself, yet here she was, sitting in the darkness, waiting for someone else to save her life.

      The air seemed heavy with tension, the night thick with expectancy. Morgan eased up from her hiding place, peeked over the top of the shrubs and saw nothing but darkness. Fear spurring her on, she broke free of the prickly shrubs and ran to the corner of the building. For one brief exhilarating moment, she was sure she’d succeed. That somehow she’d escape the parking lot and make it out onto the street without being seen. There were neighbors who would let her in and call the police for her. All she had to do was make it to one of their doors.

      Behind her, someone shouted, the sound breaking through the silence. Morgan dodged to the right, screaming as wood siding splintered inches from her face.

      “Get down!”

      The words barely registered as Morgan was tackled from behind. She landed hard, the breath leaving her lungs in a quick, painful rush.

      “Are you crazy, lady? I told you to stay down!” He rolled away, and Morgan stayed put, barely able to breathe, much less move. She turned her head, trying to see what was happening, and saw her would-be rescuer pull something from beneath his jacket.

      A gun! He had a gun!

      He aimed at something behind him, fired and grabbed Morgan’s hand, pulling her up and into a dead run before she had time to realize she was moving. Something exploded inches from her feet, bits of asphalt flying up and hitting her calf. She screamed again and again, her throat raw from it.

      “Come on. Faster!” The man beside her nearly yanked her off her feet as he sprinted into the street.

      Morgan’s lungs burned, her legs shaking as he pulled her up the stairs and to the front door of the nearest house. He banged on the wood, his fists pounding hard enough to shake the door.

      Morgan wanted to tell him that the woman who lived inside was eighty-five, hard of hearing and unlikely to open the door even if she heard him banging, but the words wouldn’t form. Darkness edged in, blurring her vision and stealing her thoughts. She swayed, knew she was falling but couldn’t seem to right herself.

      “Whoa! No passing out. I can’t hold you and fire a gun at the same time.”

      The grumbled command was the last thing Morgan heard as she fell into oblivion.

      TWO

      Jackson Sharo pulled the unconscious woman up against his chest, shielding her from the street as best he could. Gun in hand, he shifted his stance, glancing over his shoulder, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He’d come to Lakeview, Virginia, for his friend’s wedding. He hadn’t come for trouble. Unfortunately, trouble had found him.

      He scowled, kicking the door.

      “Open up. I’ve got an injured woman out here. We need help,” he shouted, wishing he still had the right to call himself a police officer. That was a lot more likely to get a door opened than kicking it and shouting would.

      A light in the house went on and a shadow passed in front of the window to the left of the door.

      “I’ve called the police. They’ll be here any minute,” a shaky voice called out.

      “Call an ambulance, too. And open the door. We need help,” Jackson responded, tensing as a car passed by on the street behind him. A bullet in the back wasn’t the way he planned to end the night.

      The woman he was holding stirred, pushing against his chest, her soft hair brushing Jackson’s chin as she raised her head and mumbled something he couldn’t hear.

      “What?” he asked, looking down into her face. A dark bruise covered her left jaw. Another marred her cheek. Blood seeped from her forehead and shadowy marks on her neck hinted at other injuries. If he hadn’t shown up, she’d be dead by now. The thought made him cold with rage. He’d seen injuries like hers one too many times during his years as a New York City homicide detective, had experienced firsthand the devastation of losing a loved one to violence. No way would he let it happen to someone else.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ