Run to Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

now, as if the fight had been taken outside. Arms braced on the bed, he pointed the gun at the door. Anyone who came in would get their head blown off.
    Minutes seemed like hours. Finally the gunshots ceased. Only silence remained. Were they gone? Who had it been? Had his people killed the bastards who’d dared invade his home? The big gun in his hand a reassuring reminder of his power, Donald stood and slunk across the floor, his bare feet soundless on the thick carpet. At the door, he stopped. Ear plastered against the wood, he listened. Nothing.
    Cold sweat trickled down his spine. Gnawing his bottom lip nervously, he eased the door open, winced at the slight creak. He peeked out. The hallway was empty, a distant pain-filled groan the only sound to penetrate the deathlike silence. Sweaty hands wrapped around the gun, Donald ventured out. He looked left and right— still no sign of life. On tiptoes, he crept across the width of the hallway and looked down from the third-floor railing to the giant entryway. Two bodies lay on the marble floor. His men. Were they dead? Though they were replaceable, it would be inconvenient to find new ones.
    Fury replaced fear as Donald stomped down the stairway. Somebody better have a good explanation of how his home had been invaded. Heads were going to roll!
    At the second-floor landing, he stopped and took stock. A man hung halfway over the railing. Again, one of his. Not bothering to check to see if he was alive, Donald continued down the stairs.
    On the main floor, Donald treaded softly. Whoever had broken in was most likely either dead or gone, but he was too smart to take chances. Groans from one of the men on the floor added to his ire as he tiptoed toward his study. He inched his head in, saw no one. Nothing disturbed.
    There was only one other reason for someone to break in. Rage bubbled and boiled. They’d come for the woman.
    He ran out of the room, then jerked to a stop at another groan from the man in the foyer. Edwards, who’d been with him for over three years, lay faceup. Blood oozed from a wound in his thigh. Donald stooped down, nudged the man’s shoulder with his gun. “Who was it, Edwards?”
    “Don’t … know.” He grimaced, took a breath. “Big man with long blond hair … scar on his face … took the woman.”
    Donald straightened, weighed his options. Edwards wasn’t bleeding that much, but burying him would be less trouble than healing him. Besides, he’d allowed the bastard to take his woman. Hands no longer shaking, he pointed the gun at the wounded man’s head. Horror widened Edwards’s eyes barely a second before Donald pulled the trigger.
    He ignored the groans from the man lying beside Edwards. Shooting his brains out would be gratifying but wouldn’t accomplish his objective. His people needed to see what happened when orders weren’t obeyed. His home had been invaded; valuable property had been stolen. There was only one creature he depended on to carry out their punishment. Everyone else would watch. Lessons must be taught.
    But first he had a rescue mission to set up. His woman had been taken from him. His people would bring her home … or die.

three

    “Be still.” Ethan smacked the shapely bottom of the squirming woman draped over his shoulder. Long strides ate up the distance as he ran down the road outside the compound and plunged into the overgrowth where he’d stashed the Jeep. Blood seeped from his side, the pain secondary to the shocked fury zooming through him. She’d tried to kill him. He couldn’t believe it, and if someone had told him this would happen, he would’ve called them crazy. But he’d seen her. Moonlight from the bedroom window had shone directly on her face. A lovely, ethereal countenance with a deadly, blank expression. She’d shot him and hadn’t blinked an eye.
    If that sixth sense, telling him what was about to happen, hadn’t reared its head, warning him to move, he’d be lying on that bedroom floor