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Electric Storm(99)

By:Stacey Brutger


Scotts. Son of a bitch. For half a second, she debated the wisdom of showing herself. If she did, she’d lose Taggert. She didn’t know if Scotts had found the hunters or her people, but she couldn’t interfere. If the police caught one of her men, the worse they’d have to do was explain what they were doing in the woods.

But what nagged at the back of her mind was how the hell the police had known they were out in the middle of nowhere in the first place. Who took a stroll in the forest at night? Unless the bastard had her followed.

The underbrush crunched, the noise indicating the person headed in the opposite direction. “God dammit, don’t shoot. We need him alive.”

The lights and voices faded in the distance. She stretched, groaning as her body protested. A twig snapped behind her and she jerked, twisting to see who was there.

She craved to be able to use her senses, but she couldn’t risk something going wrong while her powers were still on the fritz. The more time she had to heal, the more control she’d have when she needed it.

The air around her grew heavy. Everything fell ominously silent. She glanced up in time to see a shadowy face she didn’t recognize loomed over her. She tried to speak with the gag in her mouth, but the words came out mumbled.

“Don’t worry, I got you.” The deep, masculine voice sounded so concerned, she half-worried she was about to be rescued. Until he reached for her. She recognized the device in his hands. The large meal she ate for fuel lumped like coal in her gut. She twisted away, kicked out, but much too late.

The taser hit her high in the shoulder. She heard the zap, smelled the electricity when the jolt arced through her body. Her back bowed, her teeth clenched, and a muffled scream escaped her gag.

She closed her eyes and allowed the voltage to roll over her. Instead of absorbing it into her system, it snagged on the cage. Under the assault, the vault holding Randolph’s stolen power cracked.

Forever passed until the pain finally faded enough to think clearly. When she became aware again, she found herself slung over a man’s shoulder, her arms dangling down his back. Nausea pressed heavily against the back of her throat, each swaying step testing her control.

She had to get her bearings, but everything looked wrong when viewed upside down. She went with what she knew. There was no trail. The edges of his pant legs were damp, but the only stream was miles from the dumpsite.

His booted heel scraped rock as the dirt give way to stone. Blinking in surprise, she mentally viewed the maps London had gathered. None mentioned a cave system.

The outside world vanished, along with the light, as she was lugged lower and lower into the bowels of the earth. Cold air swirled around her, snaking through her clothes. Then she saw the tracks. The old gold mines. He must have carried her south through the stream to throw off the scent.

Her eyes took a while to adjust to the absolute darkness. Stale water made the air thick. Then, pinpricks of light glowed in the distance, and she could vaguely distinguish shapes in the tunnel.

A rumble of voices grew louder as they neared. She slammed her eyes shut and steadied her breathing.

And none too soon. A fist tangled in her hair, wrenching her neck back. A grunt sounded, and she felt a finger trace the angles of her face. It was all she could do to remain still under the cold touch. The brutal grip on her loosened, and her head dropped, smacking the small of her abductor’s sweat-stained back.

“Put her in the cage with the others. Check on her every hour. I want to know when this one wakes.”

The man turned, and she bit her lip against making any sound when her arm scraped along the narrow tunnel. Then she found herself falling. She struggled to keep herself from tensing when her head cracked against the unforgiving ground.

Air whooshed out of her lungs.

Stars danced, and she found herself drowning in darkness.





Chapter Thirty





DAY 8: SOMETIME AFTER MIDNIGHT

Coldness crept over her flesh and shivers racked her body. She groped for her blanket, cursing when she couldn’t find it.

“Raven.” The harsh whisper clanged loudly in her head. She rolled over and slapped the alarm.

Only to have her hand hit stone. She winced at the unforgiving surface and pried open an eyelid. Inky blackness greeted her. She blinked a few times and a faint light from the end of the room slowly brought everything into focus.

Reality came crashing back.

She rubbed the bracelet of bruises on her wrists, relieved to have those blasted ties removed. All she heard was dripping water, the sound lonely in the silence. A movement across the way drew her attention. She sat quickly, then sucked in a harsh breath when her battered body protested. “Taggert?”

“What did you do?” The guttural reprimand in his voice stung. Dirt smudged his face and matted his beautiful hair. His face appeared gaunt but unhurt.