HALOED – Excerpt
September 12, 2003
Glass shattered everywhere. Colt and Ruger barreled inside and over to me, whimpering, licking the blood off my face. They were so preoccupied with tending to my wounds, the masked man got a shot off before he fell.
The bullet struck Niko in the shoulder, and he flew backward and landed in the garden I’d created around the apple tree. It had taken me days to edge the garden in slanted bricks. When Niko fell, those bricks drove into his spine and incapacitated him long enough for the masked assailant to scramble to his feet and flee.
But not before he hovered over me and offered one last warning. “I’ll see you soon, Sage Quintano.” His demon-like chortle stopped my breath. I squeezed my eyes shut, my head woozy, slipping into and out of a semi-conscious state.
Niko framed my face in his palms. “Stay with me, babe. The ambulance is on its way.” He pulled me into his lap, rocking me, crying, praying for my survival.
Warm blood sheathed my skin. Pain riddled my body, multiple injuries searing bone deep.
An unfamiliar female voice said, “You need to let go of her, sir. What’s her first name?”
“Sage. But the neck wound— If I let go, she’ll bleed out.”
“On three, ready? One…two…three.” Scratchy gauze replaced Niko’s hand. “Sage? I’m Lenore. Can you tell me who did this to you?”
“I don’t know.” Through thin slits, two different colored eyes stared back at me, one brilliant turquoise, one cognac. I struggled to raise my lids, but I did not have the strength. I’d lost too much blood.
Latex and gauze touched all my wounds. So many hands working in unison.
“There’s too many injuries,” a different female voice said. “I can’t stop the bleeding.”
“Let’s get her on the gurney.”
With slurred speech, I asked, “Is my baby all right?”
“And lift,” said Lenore.
Seconds later, they rolled me into the cool night air. Steel clanged against thin metal, the wheels grinding across the bed of the ambulance. Antiseptic filled my sinuses, and I gagged.
Metal doors slammed shut.
“I’m right here, babe.” Niko wove his fingers with mine. “You’re gonna be okay.”
“The baby.” I cried. “Check the baby.”
Sirens wailed overhead.
I cracked open one eye, but everything was foggy, hazy. “Lenore?”
“You’re doin’ fine, Sage.” She hovered over me, bi-eyed—one turquoise, one cognac. I hadn’t imagined it earlier. “ETA,” she hollered to the driver.
“Three minutes.”
“Hang on, Sage. We’re almost there.”
And my whole world went black.
Chapter One
Eight Years Later
September 12, 2011
Tuesday, 11:03 p.m.
The loft stair creaked, and I bolted upright in bed. Blackness enveloped the bedroom except for a glint of moonlight speared through the picture glass window above my head. A shadow floated near the loft railing.
“Pup,” I hushed, “is that you?”
No response.
My heart slammed into my ribcage, my breath growing more and more ragged. Where’s Ruger? He always blocked the doorway to Noah’s bedroom. If an intruder entered our home, he wouldn’t hesitate to leave his post to protect me. And yet, silence encompassed the loft. If only Colt hadn’t left with Niko, but New Hampshire Fish & Game called and asked for assistance in tracking a lost hiker.
A gazillion scenarios raced through my mind in the span of a few seconds. What if the intruder incapacitated Ruger? Or worse, killed him. A chill rattled my bones as though someone tossed the last shovelful of dirt on my shallow grave.
In search of my bat, my hand rummaged between the bed and nightstand. Niko kept a spare gun in the safe, but the safe was in the living room. Might as well be miles away.
The shadow morphed into the silhouette of a rounded head and elongated face, but blackness obscured the torso and limbs. The stranger did not move, did not budge. He stopped. Stared.
“Who’s there?” Stupid question. A home invader would never announce his presence. What did he want?
My heart was working overtime, blood sluicing through my veins, adrenaline spiking well beyond normal limits. If I left this bed, the movement might trigger an attack. For weeks the local papers had reported on drug addicts breaking into homes. My husband lost the deadbolt keys, or I could have engaged the added locks we installed after the killer clown kicked in the door, leading from the mudroom into the kitchen—the main entrance guarded by the dullest flood light in existence.
Why did Niko leave tonight of all nights? I understood the draw of finding a lost hiker. After all, he’d trained Colt in search and rescue to help the living as well as the dead. But tonight? Didn’t he recognize the date?
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