Deadly Shades by H. D. Thomson

Author:H. D. Thomson
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: science fiction romance, paranormal romance, H. D. Thomson, fantasy romance, serial killer, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
Publisher: Bella Media Management
Published: 2012-05-28T21:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOUR

She woke to pain. It battered her head, face, back and ankle. She lay on her stomach, her hands under her and her cheek pressed against something rough and unyielding. Footsteps against gravel sounded to her right. She gingerly opened her eyes. Her blurred vision slowly focused. They were in the parking lot. Her car rested but twenty yards away. The hum of tires against asphalt reached her ears, then faded. Again more tires. People were driving by, completely oblivious of the crime unfolding a short distance away.

Dusk had fallen. Street lights, too weak to penetrate into the park, left her and her assailant hidden from view.

The creak of hinges cried into the night. Then sudden, weak, yellow-tinted light flickered on. Oh, God. That sounded like a trunk opening.

She tensed, easing her hands from under her body, preparing to spring up and run.

“Oh, no you don’t.” He grabbed her arm from behind.

She twisted at the waist and kicked out. Her toe hit a shin. It didn’t seem to faze him though. The bastard didn’t release his vise-like grip on her upper arm, but lunged to the side and yanked her up and toward a car. She fought back, slamming the heel of her palm against his cheek, lashing out with her good leg. His thick body, strangely agile, easily deflected each of her blows.

He slapped her head against the side of the car. Briefly, she saw the car’s trunk partially open before light flashed across her eyes. She sank to her knees. Bowing her head, she blinked several times. The pressure of her shirt dug into her throat as he held her up from the collar.

If he put her in the car, she was dead. She couldn’t let that happen. Her peripheral vision faded as she struggled to keep air in her lungs. She hung forward by her shirt, intentionally acting as if she’d fainted. She heard hinges protest again.

Oh, God. He was opening the trunk. He planned to dump her in there.

She waited, letting him pull her up and along, her knees dragging against the ragged ground. She waited for the perfect moment. She waited for that one chance. Opening her eyes, she almost lost it. A naked body rested inside the trunk. Tangled blond hair obscured the woman’s face. Bruises the color of crushed, red grapes littered her naked legs, arms and breasts.

Kennedy jerked away, slamming her head up into her attacker’s face. Twisting, she tried to scramble from his grasp, but hands, like pinchers dug and circled both of her arms.

He sneered. “Think you’re pretty smart, eh? Think again.”

She couldn’t reply or scream back because his hands wrapped around her throat. Blood dripped into her face from a bloody nose she’s given him from slamming her head into his face.

The bastard wasn’t going to win.

She couldn’t see his eyes. Night obscured their color, but nothing could shield the rage emanating from him. She had seconds before she passed out. Words from a self-defense program flashed inside her head.

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