Spirit by Charmaine Ross

Author:Charmaine Ross [Ross, Charmaine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-01-12T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Breathe. Just breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Keep it steady and deep. Eventually I brought my heart rate under control enough to start thinking.

Elliot wound his arm around my waist, “Do you think you can walk? I don’t like being out here in the open. We just need to get around the corner. We'll be safer out of sight.”

I nodded. Elliot leaned me into him so that he took most of my weight. I slung my arm over his shoulders, grateful for the support he gave to me. He was so gentle, so tender in the caring way he held me, as though I’d break into a million pieces if he didn’t hold me just right. My energy had taken a steep nose-dive and I was frustrated that I was so zapped.

We couldn’t afford for me to be this way. He couldn’t protect both me and find Laura on his own. Not against Black Johns thugs that were more like soldiers for his cause. It was as though he’d hand-picked the worst to be here with him. It was a wonderland delight for the criminally minded. They could do whatever they pleased here with no repercussions.

I stumbled to the corner of the building. Elliot studied me, his jaw clenching. With a swift movement, he swept his arm beneath my knees and lifted me against his chest.

“Keep still. You’re in no condition to walk,” he said when I started to object.

He looked one way, then the other and jogged across the road and into a small, red-bricked side alley between an imposing building and a wall of a shop, clutching me close to his chest. I was surrounded by the protective circle of warm, solid muscle and I’d never felt safer. We came to a wooden side door I wouldn’t know was there if Elliot hadn’t walked right up to it.

“Can you stand?” I nodded and he carefully positioned me on my feet. I leant against the wall feeling totally deflated. A solid thump with his shoulder had the door swinging on damaged hinges. Despite my protests, he picked me up again and took me inside.

We entered into a corridor with offices sectioned to one side. Mid-brown coloured wood was topped with glass to separate each office. Dust particles filtered through the sunlight dancing almost lighter than the air itself. The interior smelt of dust, a faint aroma of bees-flax, and tough efficiency.

Elliot paced into an office and deposited me on a chair. I looked around me with intense interest. This was his office where he’d worked during his lifetime. A large, dark wooden desk took up a lot of the space in the middle of the room. The top was neat, set with two paper-filled trays and a cup filled with pencils of various lengths. There was a large dull black telephone tucked into a corner and a large open note-pad in the middle of the desk. It also looked empty to me. No computer, mouse, screen, and all the other mod-cons that I was used to.

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