The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance by Katherine Logan (i am reading a book TXT) 📕

wasn’t nice,” she managed to say as she pinched the ends of the jacket together. “I don’t have a needle and thread. How am I going to sew them back on?”

She flashed back to being in the chute, ready to ride a bronc, waiting for the gate to open. Get ready. Breathe. During the next few seconds, she could live or die.

His brown teeth showed in a sadistic grin that nearly made her throw up.

Where’s Austin? Where’s Remy?

She couldn’t make a move until one of them burst into the room.

“No corset?” Mr. Bailey asked. “Hmmm.” Using the knife, he swatted her hand away and sliced down the front of the chemise, nicking her skin and exposing the curve of her breasts. Then he used the blade’s tip and flipped the sides farther apart, exposing more of her.

He pressed against her, and before she could anticipate his next move, he grabbed the back of her head and held it still while he kissed her with stiff, unmoving lips. It wasn’t a kiss at all. It was strictly intimidation.

“Before I kill you, I’ll enjoy taking what you’d never offer.”

The hell you will. Enough of this bullshit.

When he kissed her again, she reached behind her back, eased out the gun, and slammed it into his gut. His head whipped back, and she only saw the bear. His eyes widened with surprise as he realized what she was doing. Before he reacted, she fired.

There was a pop and then the jingle of the brass bullet casing hitting the floor.

The look on Mr. Bailey’s face said, “You bitch. You shot me.” He clutched the hole in his gut and fell backward. “What have you done?” he groaned, dropping the knife at his side.

She kicked the knife out of his reach as she pressed the gun to his forehead. “I shot you, you goddamn bastard, and I’ll do it again. Where are my friends?”

“They’re dead,” he said, blood trailed from the corner of his mouth down his chin. “Just like James Cullen.”

“You lying piece of shit.” She was now a cold-blooded murderer, and she didn’t care. She racked the slide, putting another bullet in the chamber. “Where are they?”

“Shoot…me.” His tone was as flat as his eyes.

Instead of shooting him, she grabbed the knife and the sheath tucked into his trousers. “You goddamn bastard.” She searched his pockets and took everything she could find, including his tobacco pouch, and shuddered when she saw a picture of herself and JC at Sophia’s art exhibit in New York City. Before she could ask where he got it, he breathed out a raspy breath and died.

“Enjoy hell.” She stood and kicked him in the ribs.

A chill swept through her at how close she came to being raped and killed. She was a warrior now, and she couldn’t fall apart until she found Austin and Remy.

You were always a warrior.

She jerked around. Who said that? She kicked open the bathroom door, and it slammed back against the wall. She had an uninterrupted view of the room, and Austin wasn’t there.

“Shit! Where the hell are you?” There had to be a secret door, which meant there were two ways to enter her room. She hurried back to the entry door and scooted a chair in front of it. Then lodged the back under the doorknob so no one could open it from the other side.

She returned to the bathroom to search for a secret panel in the wall that opened and connected the two rooms, hoping working on the puzzle would keep her from freaking out.

Since her dad gave her a gun, he’d stressed safety to keep her from shooting anyone. And now, damn it, she had.

Don’t think about it.

She ran her hands down one wall and then another, and when she glanced in the mirror and saw herself, her knees buckled. Her jacket was open, her chemise was ripped in half, and a bloody red line went from the sternum notch to the bottom of her rib cage. She pulled hairpins out of her hair and pinned the chemise together, then went back to searching for a lever to open the door.

But when did Austin disappear? Was she so distracted that she didn’t hear a fight in the bathroom?

Is he dead?

No, she refused to think that. The Illuminati didn’t want any of them dead—yet. They planned to torture them until they gave up whatever information they had. The cook would wait until Bailey finished with her. But didn’t anyone hear the gunshot?

The bathtub was under the window on the left. The sink was directly in front of her, and the toilet was on the right. That meant the only portion of the wall that could slide open was next to the sink. But how did it work?

She tucked the sheathed knife in her waistband. Then she ran her hands up and down the wall again but couldn’t find a lever. There had to be one here somewhere. She removed the framed picture of a train engine and voilà.

A knob!

Clever.

But what would she find on the other side? It didn’t matter. She had to look. If the cook was in there holding a gun on Austin, she’d kill the cook, too.

She raised the Glock, steadied her hand, and with her left hand turned the knob.

The wall wisped open into the adjoining stateroom, flickering the candle flames in the brass wall lamps. The sight of Austin hogtied on the floor nearly ripped her heart out.

Oh, my God.

Words died in her throat. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even whisper to him to let him know she was there.

His arms and legs were up in the air behind his back, tied together. She hurried to him and felt for a pulse. Thank God he was alive.

Moving quickly, she used Bailey’s knife to cut him loose and spotted a knot the size of a goose egg at the base of his skull. No telling how long he’d be unconscious. She couldn’t do anything to help him,