Dark Vengeance, Kristi Belcamino [i read books txt] 📗

the trees at the base of the driveway looking for something—anything. A laser beam? I peered up into the darkness of the branches looking for anything that might indicate a camera or motion detector. But I saw nothing. No blinking red lights. And I heard nothing. Everything was quiet. Everyone was asleep. Or so it seemed.

I stepped out of the darkness into the circle of light. It was the only way to approach the house. Even if I clamored through the thick woods to get to the side of the house, I’d be met with that stone wall, which looked to be twelve to fourteen feet high. I wasn’t prepared to scale any walls like that.

With one leg now extended in the light, I froze, holding the sharp point of the stick out in front of me, waiting to see if I’d triggered an alarm. Again, I heard and saw nothing. It seemed unfathomable that this feared man would have no security system. I refused to believe that.

And I was right.

I took two more steps and heard a deep-throated growl at the same time I heard the distinctive but barely audible “snick” sound of someone flicking the safety off a gun.

10

I didn’t wait to see who or what it was but whirled and dove back into the darkness, my sharp stick flying as I instinctively curled into a somersault. As I hit the brush, I heard a thwack and felt the whoosh of bullets whizzing by me. The gunman was using a silencer. Each time he fired, the sound would be louder. And he kept firing. I could track him from the cracking sound.

I came out of my somersault and twisted, racing for the brush at the side of the driveway. I crashed into the woods, hearing more gunfire. One bullet seemed to graze my ear as I ran, twigs and branches scratching my face and bare arms as I flew past.

The dog was nearly on me. I could hear its deep growl and then felt teeth on my ankle where my boot laced up. I reached in my pocket and found what I was looking for—my fingers curling around it before I was on the ground, face down in the dank musty leaves covering the ground. I twisted in time to spray the contents of the small pepper spray container in my hand into the dog’s snarling muzzle which was going for my neck. Thank God. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt a dog.

The animal gave a surprised whimper and then was gone. I heard a gruff voice and branches being ripped from tree trunks as my pursuer grew closer.

I scrambled to my feet and immediately scaled the nearest tree with low branches. I was counting on the guy pursuing me to make more noise than me as he grew closer.

Then I saw the bobbing light. He was tracking me. Fuck.

All he had to do was shine the light upward and he’d see me dangling in the treetops.

And if the dog was with him, the dog would know exactly where I was.

Even as I thought this, he was under me and then past me. Relief filled me. He thought I was still running. And the dog must have hightailed it out of the woods.

Quickly, I dropped to the ground and headed back toward the house.

I wouldn’t have much time.

He’d soon figure out that I wasn’t anywhere in front of him and he’d double back.

I knew the smartest thing to do would be to cut over to the driveway and get the hell out of there and back to my bike. But I couldn’t leave if there was any chance Rose was inside that house.

At this point, I was more than committed. If I didn’t confront X and take him out, I was putting other people’s lives at risk. Anyone I’d talked to since getting to this island would be suspect.

I had no choice but to get inside that house.

Now, as I raced toward the glow of the house, I didn’t hesitate for one second to step into the lit-up driveway, not even pausing as I ran toward the front door. I barreled up the front steps and tried the handle—just in case. It was locked. To my right was a stone planter filled with flowers. I hefted it and smashed it through the stained-glass window pane to the right of the door.

It wasn’t subtle, and I tensed for a fight as I took my boot and kicked out some remaining sharp shards of glass before I reached through to unlock the door. Then I was inside the house.

Light was coming from what looked like a kitchen straight ahead. I ran toward it and as I entered I saw that I’d interrupted my pursuer from a late dinner. Steam was still rising from a cup of coffee on the table next to a bowl of rice and vegetables.

I scanned the kitchen until I found what I was looking for. A butcher knife. I grabbed it just as I heard crashing from the front of the house.

I ducked behind the door and set the knife down on the floor at my feet. I intended to take this fight to the ground. That was the only way I could possibly gain an advantage over the guard. He was at least at foot taller and maybe a hundred pounds heavier than me.

I looked around wildly and then stretched my arm out, grabbing the handle of a heavy cast iron skillet on the stove nearby. It was hot and I winced in pain as it burned me, but I held tight.

Seconds later, the gunman pounded into the kitchen, head swiveling in both directions looking for me. As soon as his eyes met mine, I leaped out from behind the door and swung the skillet at his chest. To my horror, it bounced back as if he were rubber.

Motherfucker.

He whirled and dove at me with a roar.

I ducked, tucked and rolled,