Read Online 11 by Kylie Brant - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kylie Brant
Tags: Fiction & Literature
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glare. Mia froze.
With a warning squeeze to her shoulder Jude turned. “My boat.” In an undertone he hissed, “Stay here.” And walked casually back to the man who was rapidly approaching them. The beam from the light the stranger held bounced as he moved. Although he wore some type of uniform, he wasn’t law enforcement. Security maybe.
The knowledge failed to calm her. A vise was tightening in her chest. Policeman or not, there was no way he’d believe a Caucasian man had a boat docked in the area. He’d alert someone else, perhaps police this time.
There was a scuffle. Something heavy hit the dock. Nerves wound tightly, Mia whirled to see the flashlight the man had once held rolling dizzyingly across the planks until it dropped into the water with a quiet splash. Jude was grappling with the shorter figure. There was the sound of a fist meeting flesh and the stranger slumped into Bishop’s grasp. Unceremoniously he dragged the man onto the nearest boat and was lost from sight.
A long breath shuddered out of her. It didn’t occur to her to assist him. Jude Bishop was a man who embodied self-reliance. The rope that had been one of his purchases was wrapped around his waist, the duct tape in the pocket of his hoodie. He wouldn’t need the wicked-looking knife that had also been one of his purchases. The stranger was already subdued.
She moved slowly further up the pier, in the direction of the boat he’d indicated. Without knowing exactly what time the owner was supposed to meet them, it was impossible to know how soon to expect him. But there was movement in the shadows up ahead. Someone was on the connecting wharf.
Mia swiveled to survey the dock behind her. Bishop still hadn’t reappeared. When she faced forward again the stranger had turned and was heading Mia’s way.
A nasty tangle of nerves clutched in her belly. The figure was about her own height, wearing a wide-brimmed conical straw hat popular with men and women alike in the city. Gender undetermined. The stranger’s pace was non-threatening, something between a stride and a stroll. Mia’s hand crept under the tee shirt and hoodie to hover over the knife still strapped there.
Returning to the boat where Jude had disappeared would put her back to the approaching stranger, something Mia was loath to do. She slowed until she was barely moving, keeping her head ducked, her free hand in her pocket.
The figure was nearly upon her. Loose-fitting dark long-sleeved top and jeans. Sneakers. Close enough now that Mia could see the person had arms crossed, both hands tucked in the opposite sleeve. Unease skittered along nerve endings already heightened. Fight or flight. Primitive instincts were especially well honed after her captivity. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife as the person approached her. Passed.
She began to pivot in order to watch the figure’s departure. Heard a rush of air. A shoe squeaked on the dock. Mia dodged, but too late. Something short and solid missed her head and made contact with her shoulder, numbing her arm at the precise moment her knife cleared the sheath.
When the stranger’s body hit her, Mia went down, landing hard on the planks. The knife skittered from her grasp. She rolled awkwardly to her back, the pack she wore keeping her from a prone position, and bucked beneath her attacker’s body. No. Not a stranger at all. Because it was Four’s face above her. She pressed the short wooden club she’d concealed up her sleeve against Mia’s throat. Pressed hard.
“Our master is anxious to get you back, Eleven. Why, I don’t know. You never deserved to be selected.” Her face was close, eyes glittering in a way Mia recognized. They’d held that exact look whenever she was about to cause pain.
Mia bent her leg awkwardly to kick hard at the woman’s back, one hand going to clutch at the Four’s fingers. There was a buzzing in her ears as the outside world faded. Dots danced before her eyes. Four
With a warning squeeze to her shoulder Jude turned. “My boat.” In an undertone he hissed, “Stay here.” And walked casually back to the man who was rapidly approaching them. The beam from the light the stranger held bounced as he moved. Although he wore some type of uniform, he wasn’t law enforcement. Security maybe.
The knowledge failed to calm her. A vise was tightening in her chest. Policeman or not, there was no way he’d believe a Caucasian man had a boat docked in the area. He’d alert someone else, perhaps police this time.
There was a scuffle. Something heavy hit the dock. Nerves wound tightly, Mia whirled to see the flashlight the man had once held rolling dizzyingly across the planks until it dropped into the water with a quiet splash. Jude was grappling with the shorter figure. There was the sound of a fist meeting flesh and the stranger slumped into Bishop’s grasp. Unceremoniously he dragged the man onto the nearest boat and was lost from sight.
A long breath shuddered out of her. It didn’t occur to her to assist him. Jude Bishop was a man who embodied self-reliance. The rope that had been one of his purchases was wrapped around his waist, the duct tape in the pocket of his hoodie. He wouldn’t need the wicked-looking knife that had also been one of his purchases. The stranger was already subdued.
She moved slowly further up the pier, in the direction of the boat he’d indicated. Without knowing exactly what time the owner was supposed to meet them, it was impossible to know how soon to expect him. But there was movement in the shadows up ahead. Someone was on the connecting wharf.
Mia swiveled to survey the dock behind her. Bishop still hadn’t reappeared. When she faced forward again the stranger had turned and was heading Mia’s way.
A nasty tangle of nerves clutched in her belly. The figure was about her own height, wearing a wide-brimmed conical straw hat popular with men and women alike in the city. Gender undetermined. The stranger’s pace was non-threatening, something between a stride and a stroll. Mia’s hand crept under the tee shirt and hoodie to hover over the knife still strapped there.
Returning to the boat where Jude had disappeared would put her back to the approaching stranger, something Mia was loath to do. She slowed until she was barely moving, keeping her head ducked, her free hand in her pocket.
The figure was nearly upon her. Loose-fitting dark long-sleeved top and jeans. Sneakers. Close enough now that Mia could see the person had arms crossed, both hands tucked in the opposite sleeve. Unease skittered along nerve endings already heightened. Fight or flight. Primitive instincts were especially well honed after her captivity. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife as the person approached her. Passed.
She began to pivot in order to watch the figure’s departure. Heard a rush of air. A shoe squeaked on the dock. Mia dodged, but too late. Something short and solid missed her head and made contact with her shoulder, numbing her arm at the precise moment her knife cleared the sheath.
When the stranger’s body hit her, Mia went down, landing hard on the planks. The knife skittered from her grasp. She rolled awkwardly to her back, the pack she wore keeping her from a prone position, and bucked beneath her attacker’s body. No. Not a stranger at all. Because it was Four’s face above her. She pressed the short wooden club she’d concealed up her sleeve against Mia’s throat. Pressed hard.
“Our master is anxious to get you back, Eleven. Why, I don’t know. You never deserved to be selected.” Her face was close, eyes glittering in a way Mia recognized. They’d held that exact look whenever she was about to cause pain.
Mia bent her leg awkwardly to kick hard at the woman’s back, one hand going to clutch at the Four’s fingers. There was a buzzing in her ears as the outside world faded. Dots danced before her eyes. Four
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