Read Online Circle of Danger by Carla Swafford - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carla Swafford
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wonât accept you treating me as if Iâm part of a job.â She turned over, giving him her delicate, scarred back.
His eyes stung. Sheâd been so helpless against Theoâs sick games. At twenty-three, heâd been confused by the strong emotions of hate and by a perverse desire to receive his childhood idolâs approval. He didnât deserve her trust. Protecting her from Theo at the time had been his intent, but heâd wondered often if there had been another way. Had there been a well of dark, bubbling evil waiting for the opportunity to return to Theoâs good graces, and heâd only used Marie to return there? He wanted to scream at her that she was wrong. Instead, he eased open the door and shut it behind him.
He never thought of himself as a coward.
R yker hated to sleep. Even in his dreams, he was always aware of what was happening, but he still couldnât stop it. No matter how he exercised or worked, the damn nightmare returned. Each minute of it moved vivid and clear behind his closed eyelids. He relived every aspect of that night though it played out like any crazy dream. That same night his life changed into a living hell. Over the years, his dream, his nightmare, became twisted and transformed into a marathon of allegories. The type he refused to dwell on. The nightmare remained the same.
Eyes forward and heart pounding, Ryker lifted his knees higher and pumped his arms, running full force in the middle of the deserted Atlanta street. The echo of his bare feet smacking the wet pavement bounced off the dark buildings and cut through the silence.
Would he be late again? Even without a wristwatch he knew time was about to bite him in the ass. He swallowed and grimaced. A sour taste filled his mouth. Fear. God, he hated it.
Humidity covered every inch of his bare skin, giving him no relief from the heat even moments before the sun rose. He inhaled the damp air and took three more strides before releasing a long breath, hollowing his stomach. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he continued his fast pace. He blinked several times and rubbed at the sting, and then shook his head to clear his vision.
The street lamps glowed like white dandelion balls. The traffic lights swayed in a nonexistent wind. A rumble of thunder caused him to falter. He knew that sound, lived with it every moment of his life. The ground trembled but a split second after the explosion. Dread weighed him down, pulling at his need to stop and give up.
He shook his head again. Moisture sprinkled his shoulders.
Doubt ate at him as he propelled his body into another burst of speed. His heart pulsated in double time. He leaned into the run and the calves of his legs tightened, threatening to cramp. Every inch of his body tensed. He struggled for a little more speed. With each teeth-jarring step, his cock slapped his inner thighs.
This time he would find a way to save them.
The oily smell of burning rubber mixed with the pungent bitterness of scorched skin and hair warned him he was almost there. His subconscious warned him to stop. Yet he refused to give up.
This time they could be alive.
The glow like the rising sun drew him closer. First, he felt the heat.
Engulfed in flames, the limo showed no signs of life. The bomb had done its job. Two bodies in the back and one behind the steering wheel were nearly unrecognizable as humans in the midst of fire and smoke and twisted metal. People stood near the buildings, fear and shock frozen on their faces.
Then he heard the screaming.
âSomeoneâs alive!â he shouted as he scrambled for the passenger door handle. âHelp them!â
The metal burned into his hand but he didnât let go. Pain shot up his arm, numbing his fingers, as every muscle stiffened from the shock of the red-hot handle. Blood flowed from his fingers and sizzled on the metal. The windows shattered.
He flung up his arm, protecting his eyes. Glass stung his skin. Then he
His eyes stung. Sheâd been so helpless against Theoâs sick games. At twenty-three, heâd been confused by the strong emotions of hate and by a perverse desire to receive his childhood idolâs approval. He didnât deserve her trust. Protecting her from Theo at the time had been his intent, but heâd wondered often if there had been another way. Had there been a well of dark, bubbling evil waiting for the opportunity to return to Theoâs good graces, and heâd only used Marie to return there? He wanted to scream at her that she was wrong. Instead, he eased open the door and shut it behind him.
He never thought of himself as a coward.
R yker hated to sleep. Even in his dreams, he was always aware of what was happening, but he still couldnât stop it. No matter how he exercised or worked, the damn nightmare returned. Each minute of it moved vivid and clear behind his closed eyelids. He relived every aspect of that night though it played out like any crazy dream. That same night his life changed into a living hell. Over the years, his dream, his nightmare, became twisted and transformed into a marathon of allegories. The type he refused to dwell on. The nightmare remained the same.
Eyes forward and heart pounding, Ryker lifted his knees higher and pumped his arms, running full force in the middle of the deserted Atlanta street. The echo of his bare feet smacking the wet pavement bounced off the dark buildings and cut through the silence.
Would he be late again? Even without a wristwatch he knew time was about to bite him in the ass. He swallowed and grimaced. A sour taste filled his mouth. Fear. God, he hated it.
Humidity covered every inch of his bare skin, giving him no relief from the heat even moments before the sun rose. He inhaled the damp air and took three more strides before releasing a long breath, hollowing his stomach. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he continued his fast pace. He blinked several times and rubbed at the sting, and then shook his head to clear his vision.
The street lamps glowed like white dandelion balls. The traffic lights swayed in a nonexistent wind. A rumble of thunder caused him to falter. He knew that sound, lived with it every moment of his life. The ground trembled but a split second after the explosion. Dread weighed him down, pulling at his need to stop and give up.
He shook his head again. Moisture sprinkled his shoulders.
Doubt ate at him as he propelled his body into another burst of speed. His heart pulsated in double time. He leaned into the run and the calves of his legs tightened, threatening to cramp. Every inch of his body tensed. He struggled for a little more speed. With each teeth-jarring step, his cock slapped his inner thighs.
This time he would find a way to save them.
The oily smell of burning rubber mixed with the pungent bitterness of scorched skin and hair warned him he was almost there. His subconscious warned him to stop. Yet he refused to give up.
This time they could be alive.
The glow like the rising sun drew him closer. First, he felt the heat.
Engulfed in flames, the limo showed no signs of life. The bomb had done its job. Two bodies in the back and one behind the steering wheel were nearly unrecognizable as humans in the midst of fire and smoke and twisted metal. People stood near the buildings, fear and shock frozen on their faces.
Then he heard the screaming.
âSomeoneâs alive!â he shouted as he scrambled for the passenger door handle. âHelp them!â
The metal burned into his hand but he didnât let go. Pain shot up his arm, numbing his fingers, as every muscle stiffened from the shock of the red-hot handle. Blood flowed from his fingers and sizzled on the metal. The windows shattered.
He flung up his arm, protecting his eyes. Glass stung his skin. Then he
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