~ Sinister Knight ~

by

Jayme Evans

Foreboding rushed over her like icy fingers across her back. She didn’t know why, but she had to leave. Now.

She turned too fast to breath. Someone was there and she almost ran into him. A tall, dark-haired man. A frightened breath caught her and she smashed her hand across her heart. “Good grief! You scared me half to death. You shouldn’t sneak up on someone like that.”

Then an icy chill froze every muscle. The man had a gun pointed at her.

“I wouldn’t try anything, señorita.” His voice held a slight accent and sounded churlish, even threatening.

His eyes looked dark, bottomless—cold as black ice. A new shiver traveled up her spine, and the pit of her stomach cramped.

“I’d hate to put a bullet in that lovely body of yours,” he said. “Turn around and put your hands above your head. Both hands. And don’t make any sudden moves.”

Fear tingled up Kara’s neck, and she stiffened. What had happened to the air in here? It had become so stuffy, so hard to breath. Besides, the stranger had to be kidding. People just didn’t shoot trespassers in this part of Kentucky. Maybe it was one of those realistic-looking water guns, and she’d get a face full of water. Maybe he’d start laughing any second now, and then tell her it was all a ridiculous joke…

“Now!” His face could be set in stone, and it emphasized the determined tone of his voice.

Fear drove into her body like a jagged fork twisted in with both hands. One stiff leg at a time, she turned and lifted her hands. In her back, cold metal radiated through the thin, cotton material of her blouse. The gun?

She had taken lessons in self-defense classes. What had the instructor said? Sheesh! It’d been too long. The trainer had demonstrated chops, slices and kicks. Each pose came to mind clearly, but what had the instructor said about a gun? What had she said about a lone attacker?

With the gun already in her back, it’d be difficult to knock out of his hand, even if she could move fast enough, but it was worth the try. She yanked her right arm down in a body twist, and brought her elbow around into the gunman’s extended arm. The gun left her back, and then something made a sliding sound. The gun…she hoped.

How fast could he move? Idiot! Don’t think about that and get out. A few more feet and she’d be at the open hangar door. She took a couple of steps, but his hand clasped her arm. He moved fast in spite of his large frame. Her body jolted to a stop and slammed against the man’s chest and then her scream echoed through the hangar. The sudden stop gave her the lightheaded sensation of falling. He brought his arm around her chest and pinned her upper arms to her sides. His hard muscles radiated warmth on her back.

“Nice try,” he murmured in her ear.

The cold mocking in his voice made her more fearful than if he had raged at her. She tried to jerk her elbow back to hit his stomach, but his arms pinned hers too close to her body to give any leverage. “Let go of me!” she yelled at him.

She attempted to pull away, but he was too strong. Terror escalated, causing her breath to come in choppy spasms. He had a gun. Now he had her.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said.

His voice had hardened. Something she hadn’t noticed before, and didn’t care to notice now. She just wanted to get loose, and get away. Far away. She stomped her heels on the floor and aimed for his toes. He danced better than her, and she kept missing. Arghh!

Her frustration seeded itself deep inside of her. “Let…go…of…me!” She tried to drop her chin enough to bite him, but she couldn’t reach his arm.

“You little wildcat! Stop fighting!” His voice roared.

“Let go!”

“Can’t do that, señorita. You caught me off guard, but you won’t again. I’m much too strong for you, and you won’t get away. Stop squirming.”

Trapped like a fly in the grip of a big spider, she believed him. Her breath became close to hyperventilating. Stop, he had said. She had to make her body stop. She wasn’t a quitter, and it was hard to give in, hard to submit. Especially, since he might kill her if she couldn’t get away. Her breath slowed to a short rasp. What would he do to her? And what was he doing here? He loosened his grip and she lowered her forearms beside her.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I should be asking you.”

A warm breath trailed across the side of her neck. He slid his hands down her arms to her wrists and tugged them behind her. Metal jingled, but what? Cold metal touched her skin and encircled one wrist. There was a click, and then his hand gripped the other wrist. Her whole body began to tremble again. “What are you doing?

“Handcuffing you.”