The Innkeeper's Daughter by Michelle Griep

Author:Michelle Griep [Griep, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781683224372
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2018-03-23T04:00:00+00:00

Water. Alex would trade his life for just a sip, for he was surely about to die without a drink, anyway. Throat raw, strength spent, he sat motionless in the darkness, hugging his knees for warmth and finding none. Judging by the angle of light breaching the tiny crack in the overhead door, and from the grumble of prisoners in the yard, picking their fingers to nubs with the oakum, he figured it must be morning, day two of confinement. Or was it three? All he knew for sure was dampness, pain, hunger, and worst of all thirst, for he’d had nothing to eat or drink since he’d landed in this godforsaken pit. A small blessing, he supposed, for truly where would the waste have gone except that he should wallow in it?

He dropped his forehead to his knees. By now the magistrate would’ve learned of his fate, for none exceeded Thatcher’s horsemanship, assuming Johanna delivered his message, of course. Mouth dry, he tried to swallow, but he couldn’t even accomplish that. Failure tasted burnt and bitter, as agonizing as the torn flesh on his hands from searching every inch of this pit, clawing, pounding, scratching for a way out. Nothing remained but to wait and see how quickly death paid a visit—and wonder whom he had to thank for his ticket to heaven.

A groan rumbled deep in his chest, but stayed there, too weak to rise out his mouth. What a way to die. He’d always dreamed his demise would be in a blaze of glory, guns afire, upholding justice as Bow Street’s finest officer, celebrated and revered … not wasting away in a hole in the ground, helpless and hopeless.

Is this it then, God? Will Yours be the next face I see?

Who would even know he was gone? Who would mourn? Ford, maybe. He’d watched out for him since his parents’ deaths. Thatcher? Not likely. The man was all rock and iron. Brentwood? Too busy with his new wife and son. And that was it. The sum of his friends. He’d spent a lifetime holding everyone at arm’s length, and apparently, he was a champion of it.

But what of Johanna?

He winced at the thought of her. She knew he was here. He leaned his head back against the dirt wall, unable to even sob. Oh, God. He had caused the confusion he’d seen in her eyes. She probably yet believed him a traitor and was likely regretting his acquaintance in the first place. Ironic, really. The whole situation. Sent to find a traitor and now wearing the placard himself. Locked in solitary, just when he was ready to open his heart.

His fingers raked into the muck where he sat. It would have been better if years ago he had raced out of that closet, shouted in the face of the murderers, and taken the knife as a ten-year-old.

“Why? Why! Why spare me for such an end as this?” The words spewed past his lips, taking the rest of his voice with them.

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