Page 93 of Chasing Creed

“Yes, I know that my name is on your list.”

Surprise was quickly replaced by something that looked closer to disappointment.

He shook his head as he said, “I don’t want to hurt you. Iris put you on the list. I’m here to eliminate Charlotte #5. Now, you can help me, or you can get out of the way.”

“I’m never helping you.”

“Fine. But there is something else you should know. Tomas is still pissed at you for killing his little brother.”

“I have no idea who Tomas is.”

“You’re about to find out.”

Before Sara could follow his eyes over her shoulder, the blow to the back of her head knocked her to her knees. The second blow to her kidney sent her sprawling on the ground.

The gun was gone. Stars and flashes of light were all she could see.

In seconds, someone yanked her by the ankles. Flipped her onto her back. Her fingers clawed at the mud, grasping for anything. The pounding in her chest was nothing compared to the roar inside her head. A hammer in a windstorm.

Clashes of thunder. Her hands suddenly clasped together by the backlit figure that danced in front of her. So strong, so fast. She swung fists at him. She could not let him tie her hands. Fingernails connected and dragged flesh. His answer was a fist to her face. The force knocked her back again. Gasping for breath. Reaching and finding blood. Familiar territory. Her nose most likely broken again.

She couldn’t stop him this time when his big hands clamped her wrists together.

She could still kick. Blood in her eyes, she didn’t need to aim, just connect. It almost worked until he dropped his weight on top of her stomach. His back facing her, he anchored her feet together.

“That’s enough, Tomas. Now, help me up.” Orlando yelled.

“I’m not done.”

He grabbed hold of her booted foot and began to drag her.

“Tomas. Stop. Right now.”

Orlando’s voice quickly grew faint, replaced by the swish and twang of her body hitting and bouncing against prickly shrubs and tree trunks.

So hard, so fast.

Roots and rocks stabbed into her back. Twigs ripped at her hair and scraped at her from every direction. Blood ran down her throat, threatening to drown her. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. She choked and spit and tried to breathe from her mouth.

Just when she believed he would surely break her in two, he stopped. Turned to look at her. Smiled down at her. Pleased with himself. And suddenly thirsty. He yanked a flask out of his pocket, twisted off the lid, and gulped.

Her face was plastered with blood and debris. She could barely see. Her body hurt. Everywhere. Somehow, she managed to roll onto her side with her back to him. She spit out blood. Ended up vomiting. She could hear him laughing.

“I need to take a piss then I’m gonna finish what my brother started. After that, I’m going to kill you,” he told her.

She heard his footsteps wander off into the trees. No worries. No way she was going anywhere.

Sara gulped air through her mouth. Tried to listen over the roar in her ears. She pulled her knees to her chest. A fetal position as if she thought it would help stop the pain. It did not.

She had to hurry. She had only seconds to reach inside her boot.

Plastic dug into her wrists. Every muscle screamed at her. Fingers numbed and swollen. She needed them to function, to pinch and grip, and do it quickly. Flap up. Razor first. The blade guard was stubborn, and she cut herself. Ignoring more blood, she managed to slice the zip-tie around her ankles.

Footsteps coming.

How could he be coming back already?

Fingers shaking now.