Read Online Innocent Blood by James Rollins, Rebecca Cantrell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Rollins, Rebecca Cantrell
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robe. The silver inlaid into the marble slab above branded his exposed back. He smelled his skin burning, felt his blood flowing.
Still, he strained with every last fiber of muscle, bone, and will.
His existence became one agonizing note of desire.
To save her.
Santa Clara County, California
Jordan bowled into Erin, sweeping her legs out from under her.
As she crashed onto her back, the blasphemare cat sailed over them both. A back paw slammed near Jordan’s head, knocking up dust. The cougar spun around, hissing a scream of thwarted desire.
Still on the ground, Jordan rolled to a shoulder and pointed his Heckler & Koch machine pistol and fired on full automatic. He blazed a trail along its flank as it turned, stripping tufts of fur, drawing some blood, but not much.
He emptied his entire forty-round box magazine in less than three seconds.
And only succeeded in pissing off the cat.
The cougar faced them, crouched low, claws dug deep into the hard clay. It growled, hissing like a steam engine.
Jordan repositioned his empty weapon, ready to go caveman and use it as a club.
Then in a flash of blue, a small shape landed atop the creature’s head. A silver knife slashed through its ear. Dark blood oozed out. The cat yowled, rolling, twisting its head, trying to reach Christian.
But the Sanguinist was fast, sliding off the rear of the cat, dodging the tail.
“Get to the Rover!” Christian yelled, ducking as a hind paw kicked at him and slashed the air with razor claws.
Jordan hauled Erin to her feet and sprinted toward the Land Rover.
Ahead, Nate had already reached the SUV and pulled open both the driver’s door and the rear door—then climbed into the backseat.
Good man.
Jordan raced alongside Erin. Once they reached the Rover, he dove into the driver’s seat at the same time she lunged into the back to join Nate. Both doors slammed in unison.
Erin reached over the seat back and slapped cold keys into his open, waiting palm.
He grinned savagely. They made a good team—now to make sure that team stayed alive. He keyed the ignition, gunned the engine, and sped in reverse, fishtailing to the side.
As he swung around, his headlamps found the cougar. Its ghost-gray pelt glowed in the light. The cat turned toward the car like a churning storm cloud, squinting its red-gold eyes against the glare.
Christian stood a few paces behind it.
The cougar growled and bounded toward the Land Rover, drawn by the sound and motion.
Typical cat . . .
Jordan sped away in reverse, trying to keep the light in the cat’s eyes.
Momentarily free, Christian sprinted for his black sedan.
The cat gained on them, running full tilt. Jordan feared the beast could easily outrun them on these country roads. Proving this, the beast leaped and crashed its front half onto the hood. Claws tore through the metal. A heavy paw batted at the windshield. Cracks splintered across the glass.
Another blow like that, and it would be in the front seat.
Then a car horn blasted loudly, incessantly.
Howling at the sudden noise, the cougar bounded off the hood like a startled tabby. It landed, twisting to face the new challenge, its ears flattened in fury.
Past the beast’s bulk, Jordan spotted Christian. The Sanguinist crouched inside the back of his town car. He leaned over the front seat, an arm stretched to the steering wheel, and laid into the car horn, pressing it over and over again.
All the sedan’s windows were down.
What are you doing?
The cat bounded toward the noise.
Jordan braked hard and shoved the car out of reverse and back into drive. He sped after the cougar, chasing its tail. He knew he couldn’t reach the car before the beast did, but he intended to be there to help Christian.
The cougar slammed into the flank of the town car, knocking it aside a full foot, denting it deeply. Christian was bowled across the backseat. The blare of the horn immediately died away, leaving only the growling hiss of the monstrous
Still, he strained with every last fiber of muscle, bone, and will.
His existence became one agonizing note of desire.
To save her.
Santa Clara County, California
Jordan bowled into Erin, sweeping her legs out from under her.
As she crashed onto her back, the blasphemare cat sailed over them both. A back paw slammed near Jordan’s head, knocking up dust. The cougar spun around, hissing a scream of thwarted desire.
Still on the ground, Jordan rolled to a shoulder and pointed his Heckler & Koch machine pistol and fired on full automatic. He blazed a trail along its flank as it turned, stripping tufts of fur, drawing some blood, but not much.
He emptied his entire forty-round box magazine in less than three seconds.
And only succeeded in pissing off the cat.
The cougar faced them, crouched low, claws dug deep into the hard clay. It growled, hissing like a steam engine.
Jordan repositioned his empty weapon, ready to go caveman and use it as a club.
Then in a flash of blue, a small shape landed atop the creature’s head. A silver knife slashed through its ear. Dark blood oozed out. The cat yowled, rolling, twisting its head, trying to reach Christian.
But the Sanguinist was fast, sliding off the rear of the cat, dodging the tail.
“Get to the Rover!” Christian yelled, ducking as a hind paw kicked at him and slashed the air with razor claws.
Jordan hauled Erin to her feet and sprinted toward the Land Rover.
Ahead, Nate had already reached the SUV and pulled open both the driver’s door and the rear door—then climbed into the backseat.
Good man.
Jordan raced alongside Erin. Once they reached the Rover, he dove into the driver’s seat at the same time she lunged into the back to join Nate. Both doors slammed in unison.
Erin reached over the seat back and slapped cold keys into his open, waiting palm.
He grinned savagely. They made a good team—now to make sure that team stayed alive. He keyed the ignition, gunned the engine, and sped in reverse, fishtailing to the side.
As he swung around, his headlamps found the cougar. Its ghost-gray pelt glowed in the light. The cat turned toward the car like a churning storm cloud, squinting its red-gold eyes against the glare.
Christian stood a few paces behind it.
The cougar growled and bounded toward the Land Rover, drawn by the sound and motion.
Typical cat . . .
Jordan sped away in reverse, trying to keep the light in the cat’s eyes.
Momentarily free, Christian sprinted for his black sedan.
The cat gained on them, running full tilt. Jordan feared the beast could easily outrun them on these country roads. Proving this, the beast leaped and crashed its front half onto the hood. Claws tore through the metal. A heavy paw batted at the windshield. Cracks splintered across the glass.
Another blow like that, and it would be in the front seat.
Then a car horn blasted loudly, incessantly.
Howling at the sudden noise, the cougar bounded off the hood like a startled tabby. It landed, twisting to face the new challenge, its ears flattened in fury.
Past the beast’s bulk, Jordan spotted Christian. The Sanguinist crouched inside the back of his town car. He leaned over the front seat, an arm stretched to the steering wheel, and laid into the car horn, pressing it over and over again.
All the sedan’s windows were down.
What are you doing?
The cat bounded toward the noise.
Jordan braked hard and shoved the car out of reverse and back into drive. He sped after the cougar, chasing its tail. He knew he couldn’t reach the car before the beast did, but he intended to be there to help Christian.
The cougar slammed into the flank of the town car, knocking it aside a full foot, denting it deeply. Christian was bowled across the backseat. The blare of the horn immediately died away, leaving only the growling hiss of the monstrous
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