Oracle: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 1), Carissa Andrews [read my book .txt] 📗

they know themselves. Makes for awkward and usually irritating romantic entanglements, that’s for sure.

Blake pulls out his cellphone again and points to the front door.

“Diana, can you get Esther out to the Rover? I’m gonna call this in to the authorities so they can come collect this monster,” he says, turning his gaze to the man. If looks could kill, I’m pretty sure the man’s limp body was blazing in the seventh circle of hell for the eleventh time.

Turning to Esther, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and usher her past Blake and her captor—toward the front door. Her little body tucks easily beside my own, as she continues to quake from the bizarre experience she’s just lived through. Her feelings begin to emerge—muddied at first, but clearer the further from Blake we are.

She’s afraid of how her parents are going to react when they find out what she did. But at the same time, she’s so happy to be out of the scary closet—and happy she’s still got her puppy. Her mind plays at other memories—ones she doesn’t want to rehash, but still flash through her. Groping hands and violent slurs—

“Come on, Esther. Let’s get you home,” I say, my shoulders releasing a bit of the tension I didn’t realize I was still lingering on to.

I open the back door to the black Range Rover and she slides inside.

“Do you need help with your seatbelt?” I ask, reaching for the buckle.

She instantly scoffs and makes a face.

“I’m not four,” she says, reaching for the belt and aptly clicking it into place.

“Right,” I say nodding to myself.

Clearly, my years of avoiding most human contact has me pretty clueless on the capabilities of an eight-year-old, compared to those younger.

As I close the door, headlights flash in the distance and I instantly get the impression of two men coming to collect the girl. They’re talking about how pleased their boss will be because they’ve been trying to move on her for ages.

A shiver creeps down my spine and I immediately race back to the house.

“Blake—Blake, we have to leave,” I say, clutching the arm of his leather jacket and tugging him toward the door, “—now.”

“Diana—I’m on a call with the PD. What in the hell are you—?”

“See those headlights?” I say, pointing to the distance. “They’re significantly closer and if we don’t leave now, we’re gonna have a hell of a lot more trouble on our hands.”

“Yeah, so?” he says, shaking his head.

“They’re here for Esther,” I say, yanking him out the door. “Hang up the phone and let’s GO.”

Blake doesn’t second guess me, thank God. He crams the cellphone into his coat pocket and we race together back to the Rover. As we slide into our seats, Blake starts up the vehicle in record time. The nondescript van pulls up beside us as we screech into reverse.

It takes a moment for the new arrivals to realize what’s happening. As we hit the street, Blake spins the Rover around—slamming both myself and Esther against our doors as he makes his getaway. Shots are fired and flare off the backend of the vehicle. One bullet hits its target, shattering the back windshield into thousands of pieces.

Esther’s high pitch screams flood the vehicle, as she grabs her head and tucks down. The puppy jumps at the opportunity to get free and scrambles off her lap to cower in the foot well.

“Stay down,” I say to her, reaching around and holding her hand.

She grabs on tight but does as she’s told.

“Hang on,” Blake says again, turning a corner faster than he should. Up ahead, flashing lights can be seen, and Blake noticeably relaxes. “About goddamn time. Christ, what would we do if we really needed them? It’s been nearly five minutes since my damn call.”

He drops his speed to a more manageable level and eases back into his seat.

“Are you going to flag them? Let them know it’s us?” I ask.

“Hell no,” Blake snickers. “They have bigger fish to fry.”

“What about Esther?”

“We’ll get her back to her parents. From there, we’ll let Ted and Lacy decide what happens next,” he says, releasing a sigh.

I look back at Esther. She hasn’t moved since the glass shattered, but her left hand has begun to search for the puppy’s fur to stroke.

“How are you holding up, Esther? I’m sure this has to be quite the night for you,” I say, trying to put on an air of indifference. I mean, honestly, do we need to freak her out any more than she already is?

Her wide eyes meet mine, but she doesn’t respond.

“How are you doing?” I ask, turning to Blake.

His hands are firmly gripped around the steering wheel, but the hyper-focus he had going on is starting to dissipate.

“I’ll be feeling a helluva lot better once those assho—sorry—jerks are apprehended,” he says, looking over his shoulder at the little girl.

“Me too. Do you think they have them yet?” I ask.

“Sure as hell hope so. I mean, we practically handed them all over on a silver platter,” Blake says, turning left toward town. The city lights begin to emerge and even I can’t help but relax a little bit.

I release Esther’s hand and she picks up the puppy and clutches him close again. Twisting around in my seat, I look out the front windscreen and let my gaze soften. The passing lights begin to blur as my own body and senses begin to come back down from their heightened use.

“Hope so, too,” I mutter.

“What about you?” Blake asks.

“What about me?”

“Are you okay?” he says, turning to look at me briefly.

“Yeah, I’m okay. A bit drained now.”

“Well, good work back there,” he says, shrugging his right shoulder.

I turn to look at him. “Did you just give me a compliment?”

He shrugs again.

“I give credit where credit is due,” he says.

“Wow. Well, thanks, I guess,” I say, rolling my eyes. Despite myself, I can’t help but crack a smile.

“No, seriously. I don’t know how you found her, but I’m glad you