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

mouth gagged. His eyes widen slightly, but his mind is wielding through scenarios faster than I can keep up.

“What in the hell is he gonna do bound and gagged, Brady? We ain’t gotta be killers,” Peter says, throwing a look of disgust.

My stomach lurches—as if murder is the greater of the two evils when they consider child prostitution and kidnapping.

“Maybe you ain’t—”

The sound of the gun loading a bullet into the chamber snaps me from the vision and I’m on my feet running.

Apollo may not have warned me before—but he’s warning me now.

It’s a gift I will not take lightly, but accept gladly.

My feet hit the ground in soft thuds, but I don’t stop. There isn’t time for super stealth or elaborate plans now.

The place where everything is about to unfold is coming up fast and I pray to Apollo and Mnemosyne that they’ll all be safe—the girls and Blake—until I get there. I pray with every fiber of my being I’ve been given enough time to change the course of this.

The terrain is uneven and close, but I’m getting closer.

I round a bend and hear hushed voices speaking in frantic angry tones. The hairs on my neck rise—I’ve only got seconds to react.

“The guy’s coming to, I think. Want me to knock him out again?” Peter says.

“He’s nothin’ but trouble…”

The exact words from my vision—the one’s I’ve been dreading since I saw them have been spoken, and I race forward before the rest can continue to unfold.

“Hiya there, gentlemen,” I say, stepping out of the shadows.

Blake’s eyes widen, and his face turns ashen. He shakes his head frantically, nodding back toward where I came from. His eyes are nothing more than slits as he flares his nostrils wide.

I grin apologetically at him with a “sorry not sorry” kinda smile, as I edge further inward.

Beyond the two men, the small group of girls huddles together, but their faces are bright with curiosity and…hope.

“Hey—who in the hell are you?” Peter says, standing up quickly. His green eyes are wide with shock and his lopsided mouth gapes open. “Oh, damn—it’s the bitch from the cabin.”

Foresight flashes into my mind—the other guy, Brady, will try to over-power me by leaning on the element of surprise. As he lunges, I sidestep his power grab, and he falls flat on the floor as his momentum carries him down.

While I have the element of surprise to myself, I pull Blake to a stand. Without missing a beat, he drops his arms down, stepping through them so they’re in the front of his body. With a swift movement he throws his bound hands in the air and brings them down across his knee, breaking the duct tape. Casting it aside, he rips the tape from his mouth and lunges as Brady attempts to stand back up.

The girls scream and squeal as they scoot back, trying to avoid the scene unfolding in front of them.

Peter stands in the middle of the space, halfway between the girls and the three of us. His jaw still slacking open, I suddenly get the vision of him coming to his senses and grabbing the girls.

As Blake lands an elbow across Brady’s cheek, splitting it open, I sidestep the two of them and tackle Peter. Of the two of them, he’s the one I feel I could most overpower using my gifts. His height and weight almost match mine, but I have something he doesn’t—Apollo’s aid.

Wrapping my arms around Peter’s torso, we both free fall backward, landing hard against the cold ground.

He hits with a sickening, “Ooof” as his back thumps against the rocks.

The girls scream again, but this time, they all climb to their feet and edge further down the cavern tunnel. Their hands are bound in similar fashion to how Blake’s where—but they’re also bound to one another with some sort of coated wire.

Peter entwines his fingers in my hair, pulling hard. My chin tips upward and he plants a knee in the middle of my thigh. Sparks of pain explode in the muscle. Rolling off of him in surprise, he twists around, throwing me down, as he straddles across my body. A sick, creepy grin sliding across his lips and I immediately bring a fist into his groin before his has the opportunity to pin my arms down.

Screaming in agony, he slumps off of me, groping at himself.

I slide out from under his weight, kicking at him again to push myself further away.

“Blake, gun—” I scream, seconds after seeing Brady ditch their fight in lieu of the weapon.

Blake lunges forward, kicking the gun out of his reach just as Brady makes an attempt for it. The gun clatters against the walls as it hits the rock face.

“Thanks,” Blake says breathlessly, as he lands his fist against Brady’s cheek and the bridge of his nose.

Blood splatters the ground as a fissure separates across Brady’s face. He let’s out a howl, groping at the wound. Blood gushes between his fingers, and Blake brings his elbow down on the back of the man’s neck. He drops instantly and doesn’t move.

Without missing a beat, Blake yanks Brady’s arms behind his back and pulls rip ties outta thin air. At least he had those, despite the missing luggage case. He clicks them in place, then moves on to restraining Brady’s feet.

I’m mesmerized by the way Blake moves—such precision and power. There’s no doubt in the way he maneuvers as his training and muscle memory kicks in. It’s only the second time I’ve gotten to see this side of him, yet this time immediately brings back memories of the way he was as an Apollo guard. He didn’t mess around then, either.

Images of Peter rising up and landing a blow to my face pull me from my admiration of Blake and I scramble to my feet. Instead of retaining his opportunity for a punch, things shift in real time as Peter lunges forward. Before I know what hit me, we’re on the ground as I struggle