Read Online Chicks Kick Butt by Nancy Holder, Karen Chance, P. N. Elrod, Rachel Vincent, Rachel Caine, Jeanne C. Stein, Susan Krinard, Lilith Saintcrow, Cheyenne McCray, Carole Nelson Douglas, Jenna Black, L. A. Banks, Elizabeth A. Vaughan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nancy Holder, Karen Chance, P. N. Elrod, Rachel Vincent, Rachel Caine, Jeanne C. Stein, Susan Krinard, Lilith Saintcrow, Cheyenne McCray, Carole Nelson Douglas, Jenna Black, L. A. Banks, Elizabeth A. Vaughan
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ground with every lick of the orange flames. His blue eyes were open; his mouth was slack. His coat was unzipped, his shirt completely drenched in blood, which now soaked into the ground beneath him. He’d been gutted.
Mitch lay in the same position, a quarter of the way around the campfire, his face forever frozen in a grimace of agony. His stomach and chest had been sliced up the middle, but unlike Olsen’s, Mitch’s coat and shirt had been spread open, showcasing the full extent of the damage. So the girls would know the same thing could happen to them.
Nausea rolled over me for the first time ever in cat form. I’d seen a lot of slaughtered deer—I’d even brought down a couple myself. But these weren’t deer. They were friends.
My vision blurred until I couldn’t keep the bodies in focus, yet when I glanced away, my focus returned, as if my brain didn’t want to interpret the images of carnage my eyes were sending.
I blinked and forced the image back into focus, determined not to punk out. If I couldn’t even look at the corpses, how could I hope to save Robyn and Dani?
Maybe I couldn’t. I wasn’t a cop. I wasn’t even an enforcer. My summer training sessions with Faythe had included neither rescue missions nor hostage negotiation. But I had to try. I was all they had.
My roommate and her best friend knelt on the ground on the other side of the fire, and watching them through the flames sent chills through me. Like I was already seeing them die. They cried and huddled together, alternately staring at their butchered boyfriends and cringing up at their captors.
Three men stood between them and the campfire with their backs to me, each dressed in hunter’s camouflage. Two of them held hunting knives, still dripping blood onto the packed dirt. They were human, based on the scent, but every bit as monstrous as the cruelest Shifters I’d ever met. And one of them smelled vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t quite place his scent.
I backed carefully away from the bush concealing me and began to circle the clearing slowly and silently. I needed to be within pouncing distance before I made my move.
“Where is she?” the man in the middle demanded, and my heart actually skipped a beat. Did he mean me? Had they been watching us? Or had they simply seen five hiking packs and deduced an absence? Had they gone through my stuff to determine my gender?
“Where’s who?” Robyn said through chattering teeth, loyal to a fault. She would keep me out of this, even if it cost her last breath. But I couldn’t let that happen. They were scared and defenseless against men with knives, and I remembered being scared and defenseless. I remembered way too well.…
The man in the middle backhanded her, and Robyn fell over sideways, unable to right herself with her hands taped together in her lap. It took all of my self-control to hold in the growl itching at the back of my throat as I rounded the halfway point of the clearing. Drawing attention to myself before I was ready to fight would only get us all killed. That was one of the first things Faythe had taught me.
The tallest of the men hauled Robyn upright by one arm as I continued to circle silently, aching inside while she cried. “We know Abby was with you,” he said, and I froze in midstep. I recognized that voice. A few more feet, and my eyes confirmed what my ears already knew. Steve … something. He’d transferred into my psych class a week into the semester and had sat in the desk behind me ever since, trying to make conversation while I only nodded.
What the hell was going on? Had he followed us?
“Where’d she go?” the second man demanded, and I noticed as I edged along that the contents of both tents had been dumped in a pile about three feet from the campfire, including my sleeping bag and purse. Was this a robbery, or were they looking for me? Neither possibility made sense—college students don’t carry much cash, and I barely knew Steve
Mitch lay in the same position, a quarter of the way around the campfire, his face forever frozen in a grimace of agony. His stomach and chest had been sliced up the middle, but unlike Olsen’s, Mitch’s coat and shirt had been spread open, showcasing the full extent of the damage. So the girls would know the same thing could happen to them.
Nausea rolled over me for the first time ever in cat form. I’d seen a lot of slaughtered deer—I’d even brought down a couple myself. But these weren’t deer. They were friends.
My vision blurred until I couldn’t keep the bodies in focus, yet when I glanced away, my focus returned, as if my brain didn’t want to interpret the images of carnage my eyes were sending.
I blinked and forced the image back into focus, determined not to punk out. If I couldn’t even look at the corpses, how could I hope to save Robyn and Dani?
Maybe I couldn’t. I wasn’t a cop. I wasn’t even an enforcer. My summer training sessions with Faythe had included neither rescue missions nor hostage negotiation. But I had to try. I was all they had.
My roommate and her best friend knelt on the ground on the other side of the fire, and watching them through the flames sent chills through me. Like I was already seeing them die. They cried and huddled together, alternately staring at their butchered boyfriends and cringing up at their captors.
Three men stood between them and the campfire with their backs to me, each dressed in hunter’s camouflage. Two of them held hunting knives, still dripping blood onto the packed dirt. They were human, based on the scent, but every bit as monstrous as the cruelest Shifters I’d ever met. And one of them smelled vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t quite place his scent.
I backed carefully away from the bush concealing me and began to circle the clearing slowly and silently. I needed to be within pouncing distance before I made my move.
“Where is she?” the man in the middle demanded, and my heart actually skipped a beat. Did he mean me? Had they been watching us? Or had they simply seen five hiking packs and deduced an absence? Had they gone through my stuff to determine my gender?
“Where’s who?” Robyn said through chattering teeth, loyal to a fault. She would keep me out of this, even if it cost her last breath. But I couldn’t let that happen. They were scared and defenseless against men with knives, and I remembered being scared and defenseless. I remembered way too well.…
The man in the middle backhanded her, and Robyn fell over sideways, unable to right herself with her hands taped together in her lap. It took all of my self-control to hold in the growl itching at the back of my throat as I rounded the halfway point of the clearing. Drawing attention to myself before I was ready to fight would only get us all killed. That was one of the first things Faythe had taught me.
The tallest of the men hauled Robyn upright by one arm as I continued to circle silently, aching inside while she cried. “We know Abby was with you,” he said, and I froze in midstep. I recognized that voice. A few more feet, and my eyes confirmed what my ears already knew. Steve … something. He’d transferred into my psych class a week into the semester and had sat in the desk behind me ever since, trying to make conversation while I only nodded.
What the hell was going on? Had he followed us?
“Where’d she go?” the second man demanded, and I noticed as I edged along that the contents of both tents had been dumped in a pile about three feet from the campfire, including my sleeping bag and purse. Was this a robbery, or were they looking for me? Neither possibility made sense—college students don’t carry much cash, and I barely knew Steve
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