When Irish Eyes Are Haunting: A Krewe of Hunters Novella

She dropped her phone into her purse and ran across the street—grateful and shaky.

 

But the man didn’t get out of the car. And for some reason—perhaps the warning voice inside of her that reminded her she now knew too much—she grew suspicious.

 

Ian’s people would have gotten out of the car; opened the door for her!

 

She turned to run.

 

Where? Where should she run? The streets were empty, the mall was empty…

 

She prayed for the beat-up van to come back.

 

She nearly stumbled.

 

She paused briefly; she would not trip and fall and just look back screaming as idiots did in horror movies when giant reptiles were coming for them. She wouldn’t fall, and she wouldn’t just lie there and scream and die. She took the seconds required to throw off her heels while digging in her bag for her cell phone.

 

She did nothing stupid.

 

But that didn’t save her.

 

He was fast—surprisingly fast.

 

He slammed into her and down on her like a tackle in a football game. She opened her mouth to scream.

 

Who the hell was it? She still couldn’t see him! Did it matter? Escape!

 

She couldn’t turn her head; he was behind her, forcing her down. And then…she felt his hand coming around her head. He was holding something—a rag. She smelled something sickly sweet and she began to see black dots before her. The smell gagged her. She had to keep fighting; she was going to die if she didn’t.

 

So she fought…

 

But as the scent overwhelmed her, she thought, Oh, God, no, I really am going to disappear.

 

The blackness took her.

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