Free The Bride Wore A Forty-Four by MAGGIE SHAYNE Page A

the tunnel, all the way back until it
ended. The men would be outside by now. All of them, combing the
woods for her. They wouldn't be worried about Michael being alone
for a few moments. Not with a blade nailing his hand to the chair,
his face cut up, his body bound so tight he couldn't even wiggle.
One of them might be watching the front door, she supposed, but
then, she didn't intend to go in through the front door.
    She crept up the stairs, lifted the hidden
panel in the floor, and quietly climbed upward, into the dark
storage room.

 
     
     
Chapter10
     
    Kira listened, her ear pressed to the closed
door. Not a sound came through. She reached into her boot in utter
darkness, unerringly closing her hand around the small, folding
knife and flicking the button that flipped the blade out, then
holding it in her teeth to keep her gun hands free. She pushed the
door open, very slowly, and crept into the living room. No one was
around. The front door stood partway open, the bedroom door was
closed.
    She moved fast, across the open living room,
avoiding the broken glass that littered the floor. There was no
cover, nothing to duck behind, and she would be visible to anyone
outside who happened to be looking in, so speed was the only
option. Limit the chance of being glimpsed.
    Outside, she could hear the men shouting to
each other as they searched the woods for her, though she couldn't
make out their words. She paused outside the bedroom door, again
listening, before slowly turning the knob and opening the door.
    She sighed in relief when she saw no one
besides Michael in the room, then tensed as she realized the blade
was still in his hand.
    He's been hurt a lot worse than that, she thought involuntarily, and then a rush of memories came, one
after the other. Michael with a knife wound, a bullet hole, bruised
and broken from a hellish beating. Hell, he'd even been hit by a
car once.
    She had to shake the memories away and focus
on what she needed to do. When she did, she saw that he was staring
at her, his face a mixture of relief, pain, and urgency. She closed
the door behind her and holstered her gun. Taking the knife in her
hand, she moved toward him, knelt, and quickly sliced through the
ropes at his ankles, then the ones at his wrists. She paused then,
her eyes on the blade through his hand, her hand hovering near it,
shaking a little.
    He gripped the hilt before she could, and
gritting his teeth, jerked on the blade.
    It didn't come out. His face was red, wet
with moisture. His eyes shut tight, jaw clenched. "It's too deep
into the chair. I can't get it with one hand. You've got to do it,
babe. Pull straight up, hard as you can. Don't hesitate."
    "Hell." She folded her own knife and pocketed
it, then she closed her hands around the fat handle of the large
hunting knife. She put one foot on the wooden chair, wedging it
beside Michael's thigh. "On three," she told him. He nodded, braced
himself. "One, two—" She yanked as hard as she could, her stomach
convulsing as the blade came free so suddenly she almost fell over
backward. She dropped the blade, her gaze shooting to Michael's
hand as blood bubbled from the wound. He drew it to his waist and
held it there with the good hand. Kira lunged to the nearby
dresser, yanking open a drawer and taking the first piece of fabric
she felt inside, which turned out to be a small T-shirt. She
brought it to him, kneeling in front of him, beginning to tear it
into strips with her teeth.
    "Baby, we gotta get out of here. You can play
nurse Nancy later." He took the shirt from her, twisting it quickly
around his hand as he got to his feet. He stumbled a little and she
gripped his arm, started toward the window.
    "They'll be watching that way."
    Even as he said it, she heard the men
returning through the front door. "Not now, they won't. Come on."
She tugged him toward the window, yanking a blanket from the bed
and throwing it over the sill so they wouldn't get cut on the
shattered