Christmas Blackout. Maggie K. BlackЧитать онлайн книгу.
barely move her arms without choking.
Lord, please save me.
A hand grabbed her ankle, pulling her backward. She twisted around, flailing from one side to the other as she tried to wrench her leg from his grasp. He laughed. It was an ugly sound that filled her veins with dread. She kicked back hard and made contact. The man swore and let go.
She dragged herself to her feet. She was running blind. Desperately her fingers pulled at the string around her neck as freezing rain smacked her body.
Disjointed memories filtered through her fear like pieces of a nightmare. She’d walked into the barn carrying a box of decorations. She’d been talking to Benjamin on the phone. Someone in a ski mask had rushed her in the darkness and thrown her against the wall. It was all a blank after that, until the moment he’d dropped her in the snow.
Please, Lord. Help Benjamin realize something’s wrong and come looking for me. He’s the only person who even knows I’m here.
She could hear her attacker behind her, muttering curses and gasping for breath. She stumbled up the snowbank and struggled to run, but the two feet of snow was coated in half an inch of ice. She managed to take three steps on the slippery surface before her foot plunged into snow up to her knee. She yanked her leg back and lost her boot in the snow. No! She dropped to her hands and knees, and dug for her boot. Her fingers brushed the cuff. She tugged it out and put it back on.
But she was too late. Her attacker tackled her from behind.
He pressed a knee into her back and spoke in her ear, his voice deep and as rough as sandpaper. “Tell me where Charlotte Finn is and I’ll let you go.”
Charlotte Finn? Her head swam. Charlotte was the history student Piper had briefly shared an apartment with in college six years ago. She hadn’t seen the snobby, slender blonde since Charlotte had asked if she could come visit The Downs for Christmas that year—and then robbed them.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t.”
“You’re lying.” He flipped her over and pushed her back into the snow.
She tried to yell, but her voice broke. “I have no idea where Charlotte is!”
Piper kicked him hard with both legs. He grunted and fell off her. She struggled to her feet and kept running. The string around her neck had loosened just enough for her to see a couple of inches under the bag and to gulp in a deep, pain-filled breath. She felt her shins smack against something—the barn steps. She found the railing and then ran her gloved hands along it. The old rotting wood was a mess of splinters and nails. If she could just loop the string around her wrists on something sharp, she might be able to snap herself free.
“I know she’s here.” Footsteps landed hard behind her. “You’re going to tell me where she is.”
He grabbed her jacket and yanked her around. For a split second she could see his wrist—the blurry lines of a bear tattoo and the word Kodiak. He grabbed ahold of the string around her neck and yanked her back hard, cutting off her windpipe. Pain shot through her lungs. Her hands tore free of their bonds and she clutched at her throat.
She couldn’t breathe.
“I’m not playing around.” He choked her harder. “Charlotte’s here. Somewhere. You think you’re helping her out by hiding her and lying to me? I got too much on the line to let this go and if I’ve got to murder all her friends to make her show herself, I will. So, you’re to tell me where she is. Right now. Or I will kill you.”
There was the metallic clink of a butterfly knife. Then she felt the tip of the blade pushing through the bag and into the back of her neck.
Oh God, help me. Please.
A horn split the air. The loud, insistent blare sounded as if someone was leaning on it with their full weight. Her attacker swore and shoved her off the steps. She fell into the snow and gasped as air filled her lungs again. The honking grew louder. Then she heard a man shouting, but she couldn’t make out the words.
There was the long, painful screech of brakes.
Then a deafening, splintering crunch.
The side of the old wooden barn rushed up toward the windshield. Benjamin yanked the steering wheel hard to the left and prayed for just enough traction to avoid ramming straight through it. He spun and barely cleared the corner. But the brick chimney wasn’t so fortunate. The truck crashed through the chimney sideways. Bricks rained down onto the hood, cracks spreading across the windshield like sudden frost.
The seat belt snapped him back against the seat.
He gasped in a breath. Well, that was either the bravest or the most foolish thing he’d ever done. His attempt at a steady but fast descent down the hill had turned into more of a slide than he’d wanted. But it was more than worth the risk if it meant saving Piper’s life.
Where is she now? Is she all right?
At least he’d thought to let the dog out before attempting the hill.
Benjamin yanked open the driver’s door and leaped out into the snow, throwing the door closed behind him. The windshield exploded, showering the inside of the truck with glass.
He cupped his gloved hands around his mouth. “Piper! Shout if you can hear me!”
He yanked his hat down farther, wrapped his scarf twice around his face and pushed his way through the snow.
A huge man dashed around the corner and froze. A battered black winter coat hid his form and a black ski mask covered his face. But Benjamin could clearly see the knife clenched in his outstretched hand. Benjamin leaped for it, forcing the masked man’s arm into the air as he wrenched the weapon from his grasp. The masked man punched out hard, catching him in the jaw.
Benjamin stumbled back. But he managed to keep hold of the attacker’s knife.
The man gave up and bolted for the tree line. The urge to chase after him surged through Benjamin. But finding Piper was all that mattered now.
“Hey, Piper!” He ran around the side of the barn. “Piper! Where are you?”
No answer but the howl of the wind and the ice pellets smacking the ground.
Then he saw her. Facedown in a heavy snowbank beside the barn stairs. He ran for her, slid one strong arm under her and pulled her to her feet. When he saw the bag tied over her head, his throat tightened so he couldn’t even speak. He unwrapped the string from around her neck as quickly as he dared and pulled the sack off her head.
His gaze fell on Piper’s face. Chestnut hair fell loose around her shoulders. Her huge, dark eyes looked up into his. She gasped in a deep breath.
Then she punched him squarely in the gut. And ran.
Benjamin felt the air rush from his lungs. “Piper... Wait...” His winded chest struggled for breath. “It’s okay! It’s me—”
“Benjamin?” She turned back. Sleet poured down her slender frame. Her eyes scrunched as if trying to focus.
He realized she wasn’t wearing her glasses and could barely see without them.
“Yeah, Piper,” he said softly, yanking off his hat and scarf. “It’s okay. It’s me. Benjamin.”
“Thank God!” A smile crossed her lips as her eyes rose upward in prayer. Then her gaze turned back to his. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He crossed the snow toward her, feeling that odd lump in his throat grow even bigger.
Piper had been the first person to really call him “Benjamin.” She’d known exactly who he was the moment they