She Owns the Knight Read Free

her shoes. She dared to believe she was outdistancing the men.
    Or perhaps they’d given up the chase?
    Ignoring the sharp pain growing in her side, she finally chanced a glance over her shoulder.
    They’d gained on her.
    One man, his strides even and his face set with determination, easily jumped a slab and kept right on running, his pace deliberate and eating the distance between them.
    Disbelief had her half-tripping on a weed, her body lunging forward, her backpack slipping to one side, knocking her slightly off balance.
    Fear came rushing back.
    She pulled herself forward by clutching at grass until she regained her pace, but her gait was now frantic, clumsy.
    How could this be happening?
    She scrambled up a small hill and ran the few steps down the slope, nearing the far side of the cemetery. She could hardly breathe as laughter sounded behind her, close, and a scream rose in her throat.
    They were enjoying this! How could they be enjoying this?
    She was suddenly shoved forward, and the scream escaped as she failed to regain her balance in time, and fell hard to her knees. She quickly scrambled up and turned to face them, backing away, but toward the other two coming up behind her.
    The men, breathing hard, faces filled with triumph, smiled as she halted against a headstone, her heart hammering, her eyes darting for escape. “What do you want? Why are you doing this?” She could hardly get the words out. Gillian pressed a hand to her chest and sucked in air.
    The men, younger than she’d assumed, slowly surrounded her, one on either side, one directly in front of her, and another behind the marker where she couldn’t see him. He chuckled and the hair rose on the back of her neck.
    She latched onto the idea that they were young, perhaps even teenagers of eighteen or nineteen. Maybe this was just a game to them. Maybe they were simply out for a good time and just wanted to scare her.
    If so, it was working beautifully.
    Looking into the dark eyes of the young man in front of her, hope slipped away. Those eyes, the color of coffee, were pitiless, ruthless, and mocking. She was in deep trouble.
    Her hand tightened to the point of pain on the vial of pepper spray, hidden by the long sleeve of her jacket. Could it disable all four of them? She was afraid if she tried to use it, it would only anger them and have unwelcome consequences for herself.
    She swallowed audibly. “What do you want?” she asked again.
    The boy took a swaggering step forward, his dark hair half-covering one eye, a smirk spreading on his face. Tall and lean, he wasn’t bad looking, but his intense stare, sharp-boned features, and black wardrobe intimidated.
    “That there is an interesting question, isn’t it, lads?” his deep voice, lyrically charming, struck her as incongruous in the awful situation. His smile widened. “What do we want?” His face bent toward hers and the smile disappeared. “Well, what are you offering?”
    His friends laughed again, low and ugly.
    Gillian choked back a sob and lifted a trembling hand to ward him off. “What are you going to do?” She glanced at the others, hoping for compassion, a hint of pity or disquiet, but could see in their eyes they meant to hurt her.
    The sweat on her body chilled, her heart continued its relentless thumping, and her throat tightened. She couldn’t seem to get enough air into her lungs, but her chin lifted defiantly and she straightened.
    Come what may, she’d go down fighting, not cowering. If they planned to hurt her, they weren’t going to come away unscathed. Her hand tightened on the pepper spray. She could hurt them. She could leave DNA under her fingernails to convict these men later.
    Of course, if they were searching for DNA under her nails, chances were she’d be dead, so it wouldn’t personally do her much good. She’d watched too many Cold Case Files not to be kicking herself right now. Why had she isolated herself? Stupid, stupid, stupid! She knew better. One