Page 67 of Ace
“G’wan,” he mumbled, forcing himself up, his elbows digging into the board he was on. Shit. He really was in a barn, bleeding and all.
The horse nudged him again.
“Yer buggin’ me,” Keller told his persistent new friend. Dizzy and disoriented, he took his time swingingboth feet off the board and down to the floor. The blood gushing down his chest worried him, but he sure as hell was not going to fall. He might never get back up again.
But if he kept bleeding, he wouldn’t get far once he was on his feet. He’d bleed to death. Damn, it was hard to think. Summoning his inner Ranger, Keller swallowed hard, took a deep breath—that hurt like a son of a bitch—then shoved off the plank. Whoever’d done this to him was sure to come back. He didn’t intend to be here.
“Bye, horse,” he muttered as he angled around the big horse’s glossy chestnut butt.
Chestnut.That rang a bell. Keller backed up to face the animal. Sure enough. It was Sand Dollar, Fontenette’s winning racehorse. “Aren’t you s’posed to be in Bal-ti-more, Mar-y-lynnnn…” Keller shook his head and tried again. “Mary-land-d-d? At the Preak-Preak-Preak-ness-s-s-s-s-s-s?” Damn it was hard to spit that word out, harder to make his brain function.
Sand Dollar lowered his forehead into Keller’s sore chest and huffed out a snort. Tired of standing, Keller looped both hands over Sand Dollar’s neck and hugged the magnificent animal. Chest throbbing or not, he needed something to hold onto.
“I’m tired, Sandy,” he whispered, “but I gotta get moving or someone’s gonna be back soon and…” He forgot what he was going to say. “Whatever. Whatcha think? You coming with me? You game?”
Damned if Sand Dollar didn’t nicker like he agreed. Either that or he’d complained because he smelledblood. Keller certainly could. He was losing enough of it. He had to move. No,theyhad to move. Soon.
Fighting a druglike lethargy that turned his brain, feet, legs, and arms into lead weights, Keller twisted one hand into the thick roots at the base of Sandy’s long silky mane. At the same time, he hung his arm over the stall gate and fumbled to open it. Ordinarily, it would’ve been easy. The lock that kept the horse secure was a simple wooden two-part hasp.
But damned if the narrow pin that slid into the wooden arm wasn’t as heavy as Keller’s head. His fingers were just as thick and twice as heavy. He couldn’t make his digits flexible enough to hold the board. By the time he finagled it out of its arm, he wasn’t sure he’d live long enough to escape. Too many shadows danced around him. Everything was just too much.
Patient Sandy—and that was weird all by itself. High strung racehorses weren’t known for patience. Yet this guy stood as meek as a lamb the whole time Keller dragged his sorry ass over and finessed himself into a half-vertical, half-falling-off sitting position on the horse’s back. It took long enough, and a stirrup and saddle would’ve been nice. Reins. A rope would’ve been better. Keller could’ve tied himself to Sandy’s neck then. But time was running out, and he didn’t have time or a rope and… Shit. They had tomove it, move it, move it!
“Giddy up,” Keller breathed, his voice so weak he could barely hear himself. Thumping the horse’s ribs with legs that felt more like rigid two-by-fours, he whispered, “Hurry. We gotta get outta here.”
Sandy took the hint. As soon as he cleared the wide-open door at the darker end of the stable, Keller leaned to the left, toward darker shadows and less yard light. Sandy seemed to understand and headed left. Good enough. It was strange looking down on everything, though. Keller was a good six feet seven, and Sandy was all legs. The height added to Keller’s sickening sense of vertigo. Holding onto that silken handful of mane, he tilted forward, content to hug the horse if that kept him in the saddle.
The fresh air helped clear his head. A little. But a wounded man would only get so far, and Keller knew it. He sucked in a belly full of night time, needing a dark place to hide and rest a while. Thinking he could handle more speed, he kicked Sand Dollar into a trot, then a canter.
Too soon the going got rough, and the wicked hole in his chest got the best of Keller. He could barely breathe. Something in his gut twisted. Already leaning to the left, he felt himself slipping.
“Take me to Savannah,” he told his mighty beast. “Quick. She’ll know what to do.”
Sandy kept moving. The night got darker. The wind got cooler. Colder.
Keller never felt a thing. He was already unconscious when he fell.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Savannah had retrieved her few things from the bedroom at the Ritz earlier tonight. That was harder than she’d expected. Just seeing the mussed bed sheets where she and Keller had made the sweetest, tenderest love shredded her already aching heart. But dutifully and resolutely, she’d changed into her old clothes, then neatly folded the items Keller had bought for her and left them in the shopping bag they’d come in. She didn’t need those fancy underwear either, so she left them behind. Plain cotton panties were more her style. Nothing special, like her.
She left a thank you note and a tip for Roger Tanner on the counter for all he’d done for her dogs. But she left no note of goodbye for Keller. Just took her dogs and left. He’d understand. This was what he’d wanted all along. They didn’t belong together. It was easier thisway. He wouldn’t have to face her now. She wouldn’t have to face him. The end. Roll credits. Goodbye.
Yet something nagged at the back of her mind, knock, knock, knocking at the mental barrier she’d locked up tight and thrown away the key to. That barrier. The only thing that stood between her and Keller. Try as hard as she might, Savannah couldn’t sleep once she’d gone home to Sanctuary.
The entire house stunk of smoke. She wished she’d at least called someone in to clean it while she’d foolishly taken off with Keller. That would’ve been smart, but apparently, Savannah was not very bright.
Yet she knew the pervasive, pungent odor of smoke wasn’t keeping her awake. It was more of a feeling, a sense of something wrong in the universe. It was a presence. Holy Mother, it was him. The warlock! That was who’d crept into the back of her mind. He was the naysayer she’d been unconsciously listening to since… since… She had to stop and think. The whispers had all started the day Gran Mere passed.
Savannah struck out at her unwanted psychic visitor.‘What do you want?’
‘Is Keller with you?’Isaiah asked, his tone unexpectedly sharp.
Savannah sat straight up in bed.‘Ooops.I thought you were someone else. No. Wasn’t he with you guys?’
‘Who’d you think I was?’
‘Umm, no one, I mean…’She stalled, suddenly embarrassed for running off like she had.‘It’s just that I’m pretty sure someone’s been stalking me, as in psychically stalking me, and Gran Mere warned meabout a warlock, only… never mind. Shouldn’t Keller be at a hospital?’
