The Color of Lightning by Sharon Rivest

Author:Sharon Rivest [Rivest, Sharon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781733946605
Published: 2019-06-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

The gloriole enveloped Archie. It pulsed through him like supercharged adrenalin. He gazed through the nimbus at a world gone dark blue. The air about him crackled. Random charges danced along the surface of the gloriole. They flared away on their own as the nimbus built in strength.

Blaring alarms grated his frayed nerves. There were two security cameras pointed at him. A couple of quick bolts turned them into charred lumps of plastic.

Nothing had gone right since he touched Eleanor. First the disaster of the loo. Then Patrick. Now this.

They never should have let their guard down with Eleanor. They’d taken her for granted. Playing catch up angered him almost as much as failing.

He cursed as he stood over Stark’s prostrate form. If he abandoned Abe, he might get to the girl. For some reason, he couldn’t leave the bastard behind. He might need the shifter to escape from this growing fiasco.

The place looked like a war zone. He’d racked up a sizable body count. The sharp pain in his face the only wound he taken in exchange for the destruction around him. He pressed his hand against the bleeding cut on his cheek. They’d thrown a sodding suitcase at him. It was so unexpected that the bouncing case hit him in the head and knocked him off his feet.

When they were below and Stark shifted, Archie cursed the coward for running away. He hadn’t, he’d shifted right into the midst of the others. But the little man’s plan failed. Despite his gun, somehow they’d gotten the upper hand and knocked him out. A purple bruise grew on Stark’s chin. His gun was gone.

The gate finished closing across the hall but that wouldn’t slow him down. He gave Stark a prod with his toe. The man moved a little and groaned.

“Get up! We can’t stay here.”

Going to a window, the blinking lights of a plane backing away from the terminal came into view. There was no doubt in his mind Eleanor was on it. She was the only thing here worth the risk. Somehow Palmer’s men had gotten around airport security. This ruckus should’ve shut the place down. Anti-terrorist protocol suspended all flights.

He judged the distance to the aircraft as near his limit. The window was thick and likely reinforced. A wave of nausea swept over him. He was expending more energy than he should. His hands were shaking. He raised his rod and pointed at the plane.

Three words drifted up from the depths of his mind. Jet. Fuel. Eleanor. What if he hit a fuel tank? What if he hit her? Killing her wasn’t an option.

He lowered the rod and moved back to Stark’s side. This mess was all the arrogant dobber’s fault. If not for Stark, he’d be wrapped between Mary Llewellyn-Bowen’s long legs, oblivious of Eleanor Spencer and her power. But he did know about her. He ached for her more than any woman. Ever. Her and the power she gave him. His chance with her was slipping away.

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