“This room is similar to the one that was underneath our house,” he murmured near her ear.“It was used for the same purpose, which means there are several sharp tools in here.”
Tools O’Leary now had at his disposal.
She pulled a pair of daggers from the sheaths strapped to her legs.“Ready?”
A sinister chuckle came from the shadows concealing the opposite side of the room before Adrian answered, “Yes.”
Samantha moved toward the spot where she’d heard O’Leary.Adrian and Murry advanced on either side, their bodies no more than blurry shadows in her peripheral vision.A soft wheeze filled the air, then a sharp ding as metal connected with stone.Careless.Which had to mean…
Samantha spun to her left, toward Murry.“He’s baiting—”
A grunt of surprise as Murry crashed into the ground, preceded an agonized cry.Then came that sound of a foot scraping over the ground.Limping.
“Murry?”Adrian’s voice was low, crisp, assertive.
“Bastard stabbed me in the side,” Murry wheezed.
“Just once?”Samantha asked.When Murry grunted his answer, she said to the room at large.“A clever plan for a wounded man, O’Leary.Incapacitate each of us swiftly, without lingering long enough for us to catch you.Then go back later and finish us off.”
He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to.Although he was clearly trying to avoid making sounds that weren’t deliberate, she heard the ragged intake of breath, the effort he made to recover from the effort he’d just had to make.
Perhaps he had more than a twisted ankle to deal with.
Maybe, he’d hurt himself when he’d escaped from the chain.
She considered this possibility while keeping her senses on high alert.Murry did not tie lose knots.He would have made sure O’Leary would not be able to free himself.
So how had he done it?
A movement flickered off to the right and she pivoted.Just in time to see the blade her husband threw splice the air.
The soft sound of metal piercing fabric and flesh cut her off.A furious curse from O’Leary followed.
Adrian vanished into the darkness.A second of bone-chilling silence followed.And then Adrian cried out in pain.
Samantha’s heart dropped to her stomach.“Adrian?”
What the hell had just happened.Was her husband dead or alive?
“Adrian?”
She heard his ragged breaths and released a slow sigh of relief.Murry grunted a couple of times, then Adrian managed to say, “Get out of the room, Samantha.Get…help.”
And leave O’Leary alone with Adrian and Murry so he could finish them off?
Not on her life.
She closed her hands more firmly around her daggers, not caring that the action pained her, and widened her stance.Knees bent, she moved as far away from the still burning torch light as possible, hiding away as best as she could while collecting herself.
Her heart beat wildly against her breast.The fine hair at the nape of her neck stood on end.A cool sweat gathered between her shoulder blades.Tension coiled her stomach into a tight knot.
Focused, she tried to filter out all unnecessary sounds; Murry’s raspy breaths farther forward, Adrian’s low groans to her far right, the shifting of their bodies against the ground whenever they moved.Beyond this, there was a gentle wheezing.
Perhaps Adrian had struck O’Leary chest when he threw his dagger.Each inhale and exhale was strained.Moreover, it came from a spot near the ground.As if he were in a crouched position, or sitting.
If she could track him, he’d stand no chance.Despite her own injuries, she had the advantage and she was going to use it.
Her daggers made quick work of the jacket she wore, slicing it to ribbons.
