Run to Ground(126)

Her heels sank into the soft, sprinkler-fed lawn, and she shifted to her toes again. A light flickered to life right above her, and she froze, feeling like she was a cat burglar caught by a police spotlight. Clenching her jaw against the need to scream, she looked away from the glare, not wanting to lose her night vision.

No one yelled or chased her or shot her or did any of the horrible things she was expecting. Instead, the night remained quiet except for the chirping and buzzing of nocturnal wild things.

Must be motion-activated, she decided, and her pent-up breath escaped in a whoosh. All the creatures around her went silent, and she hesitated again, hoping her relieved sigh hadn’t been loud enough to catch someone’s attention. A small walkway peeked from around a corner, taunting her with its normalcy.

She forced her feet forward, heading toward the small paved path. As she rounded the corner, Kaylee could see the lights from the front of the estate. She was hit by concurrent feelings of hope and fear, the need to get into a populated spot warring with the panic that someone knew, that she would be grabbed as soon as she stepped into the closest puddle of light—grabbed and taken to that horrible basement room. This time, she’d be the one tied to the chair, the one with the swollen face and empty eye socket and—

It was too much. Kaylee turned off her brain and jogged toward the front entrance, silently praying as hard as she could. The valet startled as Kaylee walked toward him. She’d lengthened her stride and was trying to project confidence, although she didn’t know if she was succeeding.

“Can I…help you?” the valet asked, his voice squeaking a little in the middle, even though he looked many years past puberty.

“Yes, please.” Oh God, not the quivery voice! Kaylee pinched her arm hard, trying to shove back the tears. All that did was make her want to cry harder. “Could you get my car? It’s the Infiniti Q50. And hurry? Please?”

Instead of running off like a good valet, he visibly swallowed and took a step closer. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I just…I need to leave.” Her brain frantically grabbed for an excuse to explain why she was running out of Martin Jovanovic’s mansion, shaking and near tears and streaked with blood—oh God, the blood. How could she explain the blood? Quickly, she shoved her hands behind her back and hoped that the stains on her dress wouldn’t be that noticeable in the poor light. “My boyfriend’s been cheating on me, so I broke up with him, but he’ll be following me, and I need to be gone before he makes it out here and tries to convince me that he’s the perfect guy that I thought he was, so if you could hurry, that would be great, and then you won’t have to watch a really uncomfortable scene with yelling and tears and drama, okay?”

The valet blinked rapidly before turning and jogging away. Kaylee hoped he was heading toward the parked cars and not just running away from the crazy girl. Now that she was alone with only night sounds and the fading footsteps of the valet, she could hear her heartbeat pattering in her ears. She was breathing too fast, each inhale catching on a tiny bit of a sob.

“Calm down,” she muttered. “Calm down, calm down, calm do—”

Someone grabbed her arm and yanked her toward the house.





Chapter 2


Kaylee stumbled as she was jerked backward. She tried to get her feet under her, to get some leverage to pull away, but her heels and the force with which she was being hauled toward the door made it impossible. Sucking in a breath, she opened her mouth to scream, only to have a hand clamp over her face. The fingers around her forearm released, and she tried to twist away, but her captor caught her around the waist and lifted her off the ground.

They were headed for the front doorway, and she struggled harder as her panic boiled over. Images rushed through her mind—the tortured men, the blood on the floor, the instruments lined up so neatly, ready to be used. She couldn’t go back in that house. If she did, she knew she wouldn’t be coming back out.

Sinking her teeth into her captor’s meaty palm, she squirmed and thrashed in his grip. Kaylee heard him swear, and she recognized Uncle Martin’s voice. The knowledge that it was him, not hired muscle, not someone she could possibly convince to let her go, sent a fresh spear of terror through her. Ripping her arm free of his grip, she sent a hard elbow into his gut.

His breath wheezed out of his lungs at the blow, and she elbowed him again. This hit loosened the arm around her waist. The memory of a self-defense class she’d taken years ago rose in her mind, and she turned, bringing her fists up close to her face.

Martin was red-faced and panting, although she wasn’t sure if it was from exertion or pain. His expression could only be called a snarl. It scared her, and she hesitated for the briefest second. His hands rose as if to grab her again, and the movement knocked her out of her paralysis.