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Exiles End - Conard County - by Rachel Lee
Published: August 1, 1992
Exiles End
by Rachel Lee
Prologue
In the shadowed room, a man lay unconscious on the blue sheets of a hospital bet. An IV catheter ran into his right arm. A suction tub ran up into the bandages that covered his face, then disappeared into a hole where a nostril must be. Both his legs were elevated and splinted from hip to toe with stainless steel bars, and bandaged on thigh and shin. His left arm showed scars from the recent surgery, paper thin and red.
He had already been through a number of operations, and there were more to come.
The only light in the room came from a baseboard nightlight, which provided just enough illumination to guide a nurse’s steps to the bed. In the corner, farthest from the light there was a darker shadow, a shadow with substance. If the man in the bed awakened with clear senses, he might, just might, notice the watcher in the shadows. But he would not awaken. Not yet.
It would be easy to kill him right now. So easy. A little potassium solution injected into the IV tub would bring a quick cardiac arrest. Or it would be pitifully easy to smother him with a pillow. Chances were, after all the man in the bed had been through, everyone would assume he had merely been too weak to withstand the rigors of surgery. He had, after all, been through a lot. The thought was pleasing. Yes, he’d been through a lot. Four god-awful, endless years of hell. Why was he still alive?
But killing him now would be too swift, too easy. He needed to suffer. He needed to know it was coming. He had to twist and turn like an insect trying to escape the spider’s web.
The squeak of rubber soles warned the watcher of a nurse’s approach. As the nurse stepped into the room, she immediately spied the watcher and hesitated.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she scolded gently. “It’s well past visiting hours.”
“I had to come.”
The nurse nodded, trying for a pleasant smile. “He’ll be all right. Really. He’s remarkably strong. Why don’t you come back in the morning?”
The watcher gave one last look at the bed, at the golden hair that identified the patient despite the bandages. Your face will be different, but I’ll know you. Wherever you go, I’ll find you and stalk you. You’re going to learn exactly what it’s like to be hunted. As I am hunted because of you.
The nurse bent over the bed and checked the tubes. Then she took the man’s pulse. When she looked up, she saw that the watcher had gone.
“I must be losing my marbles,” she muttered under her breath, “but that character was creepy.”
And right there and then, she decided to keep a closer eye on this patient. It was the visitor’s eyes, she thought, and remembering them, she shivered faintly. Nobody should have eyes like that.
Interested in a Reprint?
SOMEONE WAS STALKING HIM
After being held captive for four years, CIA agent Ransom Laird just wanted to enjoy the wide-open spaces and warm sunshine of Wyoming. He hadn't expected to meet a woman whose very soul touched him, warmed him-- a woman he could grow old with.
And now that he'd found her, he was about to lose her to an unknown assassin. Someone who wanted Ransom dead. Someone who was willing to kill Mandy to get to him...
Writer Mandy Grant saw Ransom as a wounded warrior seeking shelter within her fortress walls and herself as the lonely princess, too frightened to love. Because for Mandy, loving mean losing. And unless the stopped the killer first, they were both going to lose...
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Exiles End - Conard County