Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [53]
I couldn’t breathe, and I struggled, but he held me tight against a strong chest.
To my relief, I heard Sweetie’s frantic baying, and this time she was coming straight for me. I began to fight against my captor’s grip. Sweetie was coming. Surely Tinkie and Cece would realize I was in danger.
My lungs screamed for oxygen. The last things I heard were the wild whinny of a horse and the deep-throated growl of my hound.
12
A kaleidoscope of green spun above my head when I gained consciousness. A concerned Tinkie shifted into view. She hovered over me, shaking my shoulder and lightly slapping my face.
“Hit me again and I’m going to hurt you.” I pushed her back and propped up on my elbows. I was lying on the ground outside the stables. Sweetie Pie rushed to cover my face in doggie kisses, an expression of anxiety on her noble countenance.
“Dahling, we thought you’d been killed.” Cece knelt beside Sweetie, who’d pressed herself against me.
My memory was fuzzy. I’d walked into the stables, and then someone had grabbed me. He’d shut off my air and whispered into my ear, a murmur that still sent a chill through me. “His hand was big, calloused. He clamped it over my mouth and…” And I’d fallen like a sack of potatoes.
I struggled to a sitting position against the protests of my friends. “Where is he? Did he come out?”
“He who? Did you find someone? All we saw was a horse running out of the stables lickety-split. It was huge and black. An enormous animal. It galloped right by us and disappeared in the woods.” Tinkie pointed vaguely south. “We thought you’d been trampled.”
“A man grabbed me. He told me not to call out to you.” I began to tremble. “He nearly suffocated me.” And I could only say for certain he had a strong chest and rough hands. I hadn’t gotten a look at him. “Surely you saw him?”
“We didn’t see a man,” Tinkie admitted. She glanced toward the barn. “I’ll get a big stick and we’ll take a look. If he’s still in there, Sarah Booth, I’ll beat him till he begs for his mama.”
I restrained her. “Don’t go in there. Let me gather my wits and we’ll all go together.”
Tinkie put her hands on her hips. “We have to buy guns, Sarah Booth. We just have to. We can’t chase after felons armed with sticks and rocks.”
Instead of answering, I gathered myself to stand.
“Not so fast. Let’s check you over,” Cece said.
A careful examination of my skull showed no injury or wound. My attacker hadn’t harmed me, but he’d used the Vulcan sleeper hold. And that whisper. Every time I thought of his warm breath against my ear, his hand covering my mouth yet also caressing … it infuriated me.
Almost as bitter was the fact he’d sneaked up on me and caught me off guard. I could still hear his voice, confident and taunting. I’d have to be more careful in the future. This was a smart and bold man.
Tinkie pulled me to my feet. “No police. Eleanor will kill us if uniforms show up at Briarcliff for any reason.”
“Then you two should say adios to her and this case and head home.” Cece got snappy when she was worried. “It isn’t reasonable for her to ask you to risk your lives.”
Cece was right. Clearly. Yet I had never walked away from a case. And while the man in the barn could have twisted my head off with ease, he hadn’t really harmed me.
“Let’s see what’s in that barn.” I didn’t want to get into an argument with Cece about the danger. I’d been foolish to enter the stables alone, and she was feeling guilty for letting me.
Lined up like the Mod Squad, we walked in together. I was in the middle, and this time a dangling cord tickled my face. I grabbed it and pulled. Light flooded the barn. Which meant there was electricity to the building. The Levert sisters had enough assets to light most of Natchez, if they chose to, but normal people would shut off the power supply to an unused building. To prevent fire, if nothing else.
“Well, well,” Cece said as she surveyed the interior.