AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She stumbled along beside Killian, trying to believe
101
that this was all a dream?nothing more?but something was wrong.
It didn't feel like a dream. Even though it was weird and inexplicable and everything a dream should be, it felt ... real. Suddenly all she could think about were the discrepancies, the things that didn't fit. Like no Bloody Gorge, no rescue, no sheriff interrupting the robbery.
She pushed the thoughts away with a shiver.
It was a dream, damn it. What else could it possibly be?
All of a sudden, it was gone. The adrenaline and fear that had sustained Lainie for the last few minutes evaporated, leaving in its stead a bone-deep weariness. She couldn't remember when she'd been so completely depleted, so utterly exhausted. And she'd had a lifetime of tired with which to compare it.
"You're lagging," Killian said, yanking her forward.
She stumbled along to keep up with him, her small legs trying to match his punishing stride.
Moonlight drizzled through the layer of haze overhead, punching through the clouds in spears of blue-white light, illuminating the outlaw's hideout.
They were in a narrow, twisting valley not more than a half mile across. Sheer rock cliffs ringed the hideout, loomed in the darkness like the folded wings of some giant bird of prey. Meager moonlight lent the valley an illusory, dreamlike softness. The sharp odor of sulfur hung in the air.
Lainie tried to look around, tried to care where she was and what the hideout looked like, but it was impossible. Her eyes were gritty with fatigue; opening them burned and brought tears.
Finally Killian stopped at a small one-room cabin
102
built of split logs. He yanked on the leather thong that held the door closed, and the planked slab swung open with an echoing creak.
"Wait here." He went inside, disappearing almost immediately into the smelly gloom of the cabin. She heard his footsteps clumping across the planked floor, then the sharp scratch of a match being struck. A tenuous yellow light appeared in the darkness, gaining strength as Killian touched the lighted match to a lantern wick.
He set the lantern down on a table. "Come in."
"What? You aren't going to carry me across the threshold?" She felt her way through the open doorway.
The first thing she noticed was the smell?old food and must?the second was the bed.
Singular. The bed.
She thought briefly about throwing a fit. But frankly, she was too tired. She'd sleep with Hannibal Lecter if she had to. Anyone, anywhere. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and forget about this horrific nightmare. She leaned against the splintery doorjamb and closed her eyes. The even rise and fall of her own breathing calmed her. She felt as if she were floating, her fingertips tingled.
She was close?really close?to falling asleep. She knew the signs, the sensations that told her the end was near. Finally.
There was a creak of tired leather and the thump of chair legs hitting the wooden floor. "Okay, who the hell are you?"
She forced her eyelids open, and winced at the pain of the action. Fatigue blurred her vision, turned the man seated at the table into a shadowy, black-hatted blur. "Not tonight. I'm really tired."
"Oh, and I give a shit about that."
Lainie felt a grudging smile start. The tingling in her
103
fingertips moved outward, splayed across her hands, and shot up her arms. Dizziness came at her hard, sending a spray of stars across her hazy field of vision. She swayed. "You're going to have to."
"Why's that?"
She gave him a tired, watery smile and fell forward. The dirty black floor smacked her hard in the nose. A small, thankful sigh escaped her chapped lips.
