Grace Anne - By Kathi S. Barton Page 0,68

his body being tossed around from the hood of several cars before he was pulled under a semi. She watched in horror as the truck started to swerve and, finally, it tipped over onto its side. Grace laid her head back on the seat and wept for the way he’d died. No one should have to go like Thomas had. She felt the tears run down her face. Poor Michael. He didn’t deserve this, not his brother being murdered and everything else. She tried to move her leg a little and felt the blood seep from it. When the car stopped, she closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she didn’t want Verrie or the others to figure out she was awake.

“Take her inside the house. If she tries to get away, shoot her. And for fuck sake, don’t hit her again. There’s been a change of plans.” Verrie again. “There’s a little room in the basement; put her in there and lock the door. She gets away and I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“I know what you want me to do,” a man’s voice said. “Why do you have to treat me like I’m a kid? I got a brain.”

Grace wanted to laugh, but didn’t. He’s got a brain? Then why the fuck wasn’t he using it? She moaned before she could stop it and he cuffed her head on the side of the limo. Pain radiated through her body and she saw stars. When she felt the man throw her over his shoulder, she opened her eyes and took a look around.

Nothing, actually less than nothing. No houses, no poles to indicate there was electricity, and the driveway she was being carried up was overgrown with weeds and grass. Just making out the mailbox at the end, it was so faded that she knew that she’d never be able to lead anyone to her even if she could find a way to contact anyone. She wondered how on earth anyone would ever find her when she heard a small voice behind her.

“I can’t help you much. I’m holding her from killing you, but you have to be careful. She’s…they’re draining me.” Guinnie patted her on the arm as she walked by and just like that, she was Ginny. “Do we know what we’re doing here or are we flying by the seat of our pants? I fucking hate this, Verrie. I thought we had a plan and we were going to stick to it.”

“We did until that fucking bastard you befriended decided to have the girl. What the fuck was he thinking shooting her in a moving car? And the fucking idiot nearly shot me when she kicked him in the family jewels. I could care less that he’d shot her; it was the fact that he scared me when he had. Fucking idiot.” Verrie faded away as she was lead into a dark stairway.

Grace wasn’t afraid of the dark; it was the things in the dark that terrified her. She’d been homeless for a while and had spent a lot of her time hiding under awnings and other overhangs. Once, when it was raining really hard, she’d gone to the shelter. When the lights had gone out the crazies had started roaming around. She’d left the place at first light and had never gone back. She felt safer on the streets.

He tossed her on the floor. She supposed that the little cover on the floor was where he was aiming, but he’d missed it enough that she’d banged her head again. Dizziness swamped her and she moaned again. She heard the door close and counted to fifty before she opened her eyes.

The space was small. She was reminded of the coal bin in the building she’d bought. There was a shoot at the rear that had long since been bricked up. She tried to sit up, but she simply didn’t have the strength. Crying softly, she pulled out the broken cell phone that she’d managed to put into her pocket before she’d been shot by Thomas.

She thought about all the television shows she’d seen where the phone acted like a GPS thing and someone was always finding the victim with it. She didn’t know if it was true or not, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. She was terrified of dying and she was going to take every opportunity she could find.

She must have slept. She refused to think that she’d

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