Megan Chance Read Online Free Page B

intruders downstairs to go away, to leave them in peace.
    Below she heard muffled noises. Sari resisted the urge to pull away from the bags. She knew Michael's friends, knew their desperation. If it was them and they suspected she was in the soddy, they wouldn't rest until they found her.
    All the horrible stories Evan had told her spun through her mind, mixing with one another until they were a single blood-red haze of brutal memory. Beatings, murders, bombings.... She remembered her husband's laughing, almost maniacal, pleasure in relating the events, as if he knew her distaste and reveled in it.
    Thumping, loud and urgent, vibrated up through the floor, the high tension of voices arguing. Then there was sudden, horrible silence. Fear made her mouth dry, her throat tight. Sari strained, trying so hard to listen, she heard the very particles of the air. Nothing. No movement, no sound except for her own harsh breathing.
    She hadn't heard the door close, could she have missed it? Slowly Sari uncurled, horror and tension still throbbing in her ears. She should wait, they couldn't be gone so soon, but the thought of her uncle lying dead or wounded was too much for her to bear.
    She pushed at the flour sack, dislodging it enough to wedge past. The floor squeaked beneath her, and Sari stopped, catching her breath as she waited for the inevitable shout of discovery. None came.
    "They're gone, Liebling ." Her uncle's voice came to her in a cracked whisper, and all thoughts of self-preservation fled. She ran across the short loft, flung herself down the ladder.
    Charles lay sprawled on the floor, a lump mottling the darkness. She heard his labored breathing, and Sari moved quickly toward him, stumbling over the furniture.
    " Onkle, Onkle , are you all right?" She knelt beside him, pushing aside the shattered glass and juice of a broken jar of pears. The spicy aroma from the crushed fruit nearly nauseated her. " Onkle , please—"
    "I am ... fine." His voice was weak and strained. He struggled to sit up, falling back helplessly. "Fine."
    "You aren't fine." Sari fought to keep the panic from her words. "What did they do to you? Oh, God—"
    "Ahhh—" Charles rose, grasping her arm tightly. "A .. .few ... bruises," he said as they took a few steps. Then he slumped into a chair, gasping. "It wasn't Michael... but... I think ... his friends."
    Sari fumbled in the darkness, feeling for the base of the lamp. Glass stuck to her hands, needled her fingers as she swept the tabletop. "They hurt you," she said harshly.
    "Don't light it." Charles's voice was suddenly strong. "No light yet. Not until we are sure."
    "Oh Onkle ." Sari dropped into the other chair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
    "Not... your ... fault."
    "Yes, it is," she said miserably. "It is. You know it's me they want. I—I thought it would be safe here."
    Charles said nothing. Sari stared at the broken window. The moonlight shone and then disappeared as clouds moved through it. Shards of glass littered the sill, sparkling like gemstones. Cold whistled through the cracks, easing with the wind.
    "I can't stay here with you," she said finally. "They didn't find me tonight, but there's tomorrow and the next night. Eventually they will." She took a deep breath. "I won't be responsible for your death, Onkle ."
    "That is my... risk to take."
    His labored breathing made her own chest ache. "No," she protested. "I can't let you do that— please, Onkle . I just can't."
    "Only one ... other thing to do," he wheezed.
    "One other thing?" She knew the answer to her question before she asked, and a strange sense of inevitability swept her, along with a helplessness that frightened and saddened her. Her voice was a mere whisper of sound. "What other thing?"
    Charles raised his head, and even though Sari couldn't see his eyes, she felt his gaze gripping her, squeezing her.
    "You must ask him to stay, Liebling ," he said slowly. "I cannot protect you. We need Conor Roarke here." He reached for her