Hunted (Riley Cray)
Page 35
I was out of air, and out of time, but dammit I wasn’t going out without taking the bastard down with me. My vision had narrowed down to dark pinpoints but I didn’t need to see for what I planned to do. Winding up as if preparing to kick the winning goal at a soccer game, I swung my foot forward with every last ounce of strength I possessed, nailing him in the ole family jewels.
Snarling in pain his hand flexed and then sprang open, dropping me to the ground. For once luck was with me, and as I landed the slope of the ground carried me off to the right, and out of the car’s path as it continued on its trajectory, plowing into my ex-boyfriend. Time returned to normal the instant the car’s front bumper impacted with Samson, driving him backwards into the broad trunk of a towering pine tree, pinning him there. The noise that came out of him was somewhere between a howl and a wail, and sent a shudder through me.
My throat burned as I drew my first ragged breath in what felt like a lifetime, my mind swimming from the sudden flood of oxygen. Slowly my patchy vision resolved into the ruined front end of Alyssa’s car, billowing steam to obscure Samson’s face, though his snarls and enraged shouts remained clear enough.
“You fucking bitch! I’m going to tear you open and eat your guts!”
Using a nearby tree to haul myself up to my feet, mindless of the rough bark scraping the top layer of skin off my palms, I had to swallow several times before I managed to say, “Yeah, yeah. Take a number asshole.”
Rounding the back of the car, I approached the driver’s side door with a mixture of relief and apprehension. I could already smell Holbrook’s familiar warm molasses scent coming from inside the car, but it was joined by the scent of blood. Lots of blood.
Tuning out Samson’s continued snarling rant, I opened the door with shaking hands, moving quickly to catch Holbrook as he slumped sideways towards me, nearly falling out of the car. Blood steamed from his nose from the airbag that had exploded in his face. He groaned fitfully when I pushed him back into the car and gently laid his head back against the headrest. I had nothing on me to stem the flow of blood, resorting instead to tearing a strip of fabric off the bottom of his shirt to wipe the blood from his chin.
“I got him. I got him, Riley,” he muttered, his eyelashes fluttering against his pallid cheeks.
“Yes, you did,” I replied, mopping at another rivulet of blood before it dripped onto his shirt.
“Alyssa’s gonna be pissed.”
“I think she’ll understand.”
“I treated her bad...shouldn’t have told her she couldn’t feed. Wasn’t fair.” I felt guilty listening to his delirious confession, empathy and jealousy warring for dominance in the center of my chest.
“Shh. Just rest for a minute. I have to go finish something,” I soothed, reaching past him to retrieve the Glock from the passenger seat.
Straightening, I strode towards the front of the car, my steps sure and steady even though my weariness made it feel as though I was slogging my way through wet sand.
“...to kill you! I’m going to enjoy feasting on your entrails. And when I’m done I’m going to fuck your corpse!” Samson was ranting, his hands clawing at the hood, rending deep gouges in the metal, but doing nothing to move the car. He was securely pinned, and that was just fine and dandy.
Standing just out of Samson’s reach I raised the gun, aiming at his head. At such a short distance, my lack of training didn’t matter. Blowing a stray curl out of my eyes I said, “Fuck you, Samson” and squeezed the trigger.
I’m not sure how long it took before I realized that the magazine was empty. Blinking away the red haze in my eyes, I grimaced at the knowledge that some of it wasn’t just from my seething rage. I looked down at his hateful, sneering face with triumph. It had been reduced to a bloody, lumpy mess of shattered bone and lifeless meat that bubbled and sizzled as the silver bullets ate away at what was left of his brain.
Try and heal that you son of a bitch.
The sound of a choking sob crept into my awareness, and it wasn’t until the first heavy tear landed on my naked breast that I realized I was the one who was crying. Tossing the gun aside, I wiped the back of my hand over my eyes and turned away from the monster who had irreversibly altered my life in so many ways.
Holbrook had slid halfway out of the car by the time I got back to him, the blood from his nose having slowed to a trickle. He jerked back to consciousness when I laid a hand on his shoulder, his glazed eyes roaming over my face.
“Did we get him?” he asked, his words slurred and rasping.
“Yeah, we got him,” I replied, sparing a glance at Samson’s bloody and broken body pinned between the car and the tree. “We got him.”
As dawn started to lighten the sky beyond the trees I hauled Holbrook out of the car, pulling him up to his feet where he leaned against me, his mostly good arm draped across my shoulders for support. We stood there in silence for a long while, watching the sky fade from black to blue streaked with gold, until the birds took up the first songs of the day. I didn’t even care that I was naked as a jaybird. My feeling of vindication was enough to keep me warm.
“Looks like it’s gonna be a beautiful day,” Holbrook commented offhandedly.
“Sure does,” I replied with a smile.
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Dear reader,
Thanks for reading Hunted, I hope you enjoyed meeting Riley and her friends. If you’d like to know when her next adventure comes out, visit my website and sign up for the newsletter to receive new release alerts and exclusive free content.
I hope you’ll also leave a review with your thoughts on the website where you bought Hunted. It helps other readers find the series, and your feedback makes me dance a happy jig in my living room.
Thanks for all your support. Happy reading!
A.J. Colby
http://www.ajcolbyauthor.com
This book would never have come to fruition without the help and support of an amazing group of people who put up with endless hours of talk about self-publishing, alternate histories and my sometimes confusing mythos that I’m only just beginning to get a handle on myself. In many ways bringing this story to life was a group effort, and I owe a humongous debt of gratitude to everyone involved.
Mr. Awesome Sauce, my steadfast companion in all of life’s exciting and tumultuous journeys was the first to join me on this adventure. He has acted as my sounding board (Idea Monkey), my muse, my manager, my counselor and confidant, and oftentimes quite happily declared himself to be my pimp.
Bryan Lott, Lisa Bingham, Leslie Dietz, and my brother Neil Churchill performed the role of my wicked awesome beta readers, providing invaluable feedback, and dealt with my rampant neurosis from having people actually read my stuff.
Finally, I have to give thanks to my mum and dad for always encouraging my creativity, no matter what form it took at any given moment.
Born and raised in England until the age of thirteen, A.J. Colby moved across the Atlantic and settled in Colorado in the mid-nineties, where she has resided ever since in the shadow of the majestic Rocky Mountains. Enchanted by science fiction and fantasy from an early age, she has had a love for all things urban fantasy since first picking up Interview With The Vampire at the tender age of ten. Since then she has made it her life’s mission to one day pen her own story filled with vampires, werewolves, and ghouls (oh my!)
A.J. lives with her fiancé/manager/pimp, Mr. Awesome Sauce and their horde of feline minions. When not writing she divides her time between reading, playing World of Warcraft, and collecting sewing machines and neurosis.
Some day she would love to buy a quaint little farmhouse in the English countryside, as long as she can get crates of ranch dressing shipped over.
Find out more about the author at http://www.ajcolbyauthor.com.
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