Aline Hunter - Enemy Mine

Forcing her into a cage and leaving her behind had been worse than if they’d beaten her within an inch of her life. Her uncle bestowed the punishment he felt his foolish niece deserved when he found out what she’d done. She’d never experienced true pain until Elijah took his pound of flesh as payment for her actions. She’d never imagined such agony was possible.

As she stretched to place a can in its proper place, she felt the tightness along her back, the way her skin fought to stretch but couldn’t quite do it. The cane Elijah had beaten her with had left several scars—all of them deep and requiring stitches. Some were so bad she could feel them when she moved, a constant reminder of what would happen if Elijah got his hands on her again. This time he wouldn’t leave scars.

He’d put her six feet under.

Trapped in her musings, she didn’t notice the box of canned corn at her feet until she tripped over it and landed on her ass. Biting back a curse, she rubbed her sore posterior.

Hello, floor, have we been properly introduced? No? Well, nice to meet you.

The night was quickly taking a downward turn.

A high-pitched chime echoed throughout the store, indicating a customer had walked inside Food Town. Mary frowned and glanced down the aisle. Store hours were from seven to seven. Everyone in the community knew that. Hermer was bad about forgetting to lock the doors after hours but it didn’t matter since people didn’t want to go toe-to-toe with the grumpy old man.

“We’re closed,” Hermer snapped in the distance. “You can come back during regular store hours.”

“Secure the exits,” a deep voice instructed, as if Hermer hadn’t spoken. “She’s in here somewhere.”

An odd poofing noise was immediately followed by another. Seconds passed and it sounded like someone was lowering something to the ground. Rolling until she was on her stomach, she placed her cheek against the cold concrete and peered through the thin gap between the last shelf and the floor. When she saw Hermer’s face with a bloody hole in the center of his forehead her world shattered into a million pieces. Standing within inches of her now dead boss were boots— Ropers —the brand of footwear Shepherds around the world idolized. The style varied but never the brand, and she’d seen enough of them to recognize the damn things on the spot.

Shepherds were here, and they’d just put a bullet in Hermer’s brain.

Dear God, be merciful.

How had they found her?

Her mind was a mess, panic overriding common sense. Her quaking limbs made it impossible to stand, so she started crawling down the aisle toward the rear of the building. She’d prepared for this, had thought about this moment so many times she should have instinctively clicked into autopilot. She had a bag packed with all the things she needed to keep moving and start over. All she had to do was stay calm, follow the plan and keep her wits about her.

“She’s here.”

Mary glanced over her shoulder at the man who’d spoken. He had a gun in hand and was staring at her. There were only yards separating them.

So much for staying calm.

Once she had her legs under her she bolted for the back doors that led to the storage area and offices of the store. She could hear the Shepherds behind her and knew if they caught up with her it was game over. Ducking under a lower area of roofing, she hooked a quick right. As soon as she made it into the tiny room used as a storm shelter she closed the door, locked it and tossed the thick wood beam into the metal slot that would keep the barrier between her and the Shepherds firmly in place.

The door vibrated as it took a pounding from the opposite side. Knowing she had little time, she rushed to the wall next to the door. One of the perks of being paid under the table was she was given an easy escape route if the Department of Industrial Relations paid an unexpected visit. She opened the hidden panel, slid inside and closed it quietly behind her. She didn’t know how long she had, maybe another minute, before the bathroom door would be broken down.

She tiptoed as she climbed the stairs that would take her out of the building. Once she made it to the roof she ran as fast as she could to the fire escape. Her body was shaking and it was difficult to think clearly but she knew she had to get to her apartment. Just fifteen minutes—or less—and she’d have her things. Afterward she could decide her next move.

It felt like it took forever to make it to her building, dash up the stairs and get inside her apartment. For once she didn’t let terror win. Her things were in the closet so she retrieved them. Clothes, money, identification and the papers from her parents were all inside her duffel. Knowing she might need it, she snagged a hoodie and shrugged it on. When she finished and was glancing around to make sure she didn’t need anything else, large hands wrapped around her biceps.

“Mary.”

She didn’t recognize the voice, so she did the only thing she could—she ripped free of the hold, fisted the handles of the duffel and rushed to the window. She fought when the man reached for her again. He was covered in shadow but she could see portions of his face. His dark hair crept over his forehead and the shadow across his jaw indicated he hadn’t shaved in days. His urban attire—black leather coat, faded jeans and biker boots—told her he wasn’t a Shepherd, but that didn’t mean anything. Her uncle could have paid someone to come after her, hiring a mercenary to get the job done.

The man’s grip on her arms increased until she gasped in pain. He loosened his hold and looked her in the eye. “Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The room felt as if it shook from floor to ceiling as the door to her apartment burst off the hinges. The man in front of her immediately let go, turned and faced the intruders. These Shepherds also had guns, and the barrels were targeted directly at the man standing between her and danger.

“Use the bedroom window,” the man growled. “Get out. Help is waiting. They’ll find you.”

Questions hovered on the tip of her tongue but there was no time to ask them. The windowpanes had been broken apart—undoubtedly by the man in her apartment—making it easy for her to climb through. She felt a hand swipe at her head and jumped to the side. An ear-splitting roar made the hair on her nape prickle and stand on end. When she glanced back the Shepherds were too busy protecting themselves to use their guns on the man who was in the process of kicking their asses.

The solid railing of the old metal fire escape allowed her to slide to the bottom of the structure instead of stepping down. Despite the speed of her departure, the sounds of fighting were so close she knew she didn’t stand a chance if she didn’t get away. She was only delaying the inevitable. Left with no other option, she did the only thing she could.

The moment her feet hit the ground, she started running. And as she did, she released a bloodcurdling scream.

The shrill sound was loud in her ears, so out of place at three o’clock in the morning when everyone in the apartment building next to hers was sleeping. If she was going down, she wasn’t doing so quietly. Let the sadistic assholes on her heels work for their blood for a change.

In fact…

She changed direction, running for the main road thorough the small shopping center. Why hide when she could scream for help in the open? It was late so she wasn’t surprised she didn’t see any lights coming on or people rushing outside. But it didn’t matter. Her thoughts were focused on making it to the street. If luck was on her side, someone would be traveling this late at night.

Maybe her good fortune would continue to hold.