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

but damn, he was going to have one hell of a headache.

In the meantime, if they didn’t find a way out of this mess, they’d all be dead, and it wouldn’t much matter.

What was she going to do now? And how long did she have? Bailey probably told the cook to tie up Remy and Austin and wait until he finished torturing her before deciding what to do with them. She could look for the cook, but what if he captured her? There wouldn’t be any backup. She had to find Remy. But did she dare leave this room? And where the hell was the cook?

Where would she want to be?

The drawing room. It was more comfortable and had a supply of liquor. That meant the cook would have tied Remy up in the dining room. But what if she was wrong?

Channel your inner Viking warrior woman.

Before she cracked open the door, she removed her shoes, tucked the knife in her waistband, and checked the gun. Another round had automatically entered the chamber after she fired once.

I’m ready. Let’s get this done.

She opened the door and listened. No voices. But as loud as the rumbling train was, she wasn’t surprised she couldn’t hear people talking at either end of the carriage.

Right or left? Do or die. What the hell? Go for it. Warrior woman.

She reached the kitchen and listened before revealing herself. Then she tried to still her racing heart as she turned, holding her firearm in a high ready position, which reduced her profile. The room was empty. She turned toward the dining room, maintaining her grip, her finger on the trigger.

No voices were coming from the dining room, either. She’d give her last dollar for a mirror with a direct view of the room’s interior. Her field of vision around the corner and into the room was zero.

She had no business trying to clear the room by herself, but she had no choice. Should she go at top speed or a slow creep? Before she could decide, she had to know if Remy was in immediate danger. Bulldozing her way into a room could get them both killed.

She hugged the wall, and when she was ready, she took one step and got a look at a slice of the room. Nothing there.

She took another step and saw another slice of the room. Nothing there, either.

She took a third step and spotted Remy hogtied on the floor—but was anyone else in the room? If she took a baby step, she’d have a complete view.

Do it.

She took the last step and let out a breath of relief. No one else was in the room.

She hurried to Remy and felt his pulse. He was still alive but had a similar knot on his head. She quickly cut the ropes binding his arms and legs, wondering how long he’d be out. It was impossible to know.

So what was she going to do now? Sit here and wait? No. She had to go after the cook. None of them would be safe as long as he was alive.

Don’t stop. Don’t think about it. Just do it.

She patted him down to see if he had another weapon. She was checking his boot when he grabbed her arm.

“Shhh,” Remy whispered.

“Well, scare the shit out of me, why don’t you,” she whispered. “I thought you were unconscious.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m not now. Where’s Austin?”

“Knocked out in the other stateroom.”

“Where’s Bailey?”

“Dead.”

“Good. And the cook?”

“I don’t know. Let’s get Austin and go home.”

“Can’t leave the cook behind. If you haven’t seen him, he’s probably in the drawing room. Give me your gun.” He put his hand on the top of the barrel and lowered it. “Release your grip, Ens.”

Her fingers were frozen to the weapon.

“Relax your hand, baby doll. Let me have it.”

Baby doll?

She glared at him, but his eyes were soft and smiling, and she understood that he called her that for shock value, and her hold relaxed.

“Did Bailey have a weapon?”

She nodded and handed over the knife.

“Keep that. Do you know how to throw it?”

She nodded again.

He kissed her. “You’ll do great, baby doll. Stay behind me, and if shooting starts, hit the floor.”

“Hit the floor? Okay, but don’t do the honorable thing. Kill him as soon as you see him.”

“Can’t do, baby doll. We need the information he has.”

Remy led the way down the corridor and reached the drawing room, signaling to her to stay back while he stepped out and searched wedges of the room exactly as she had done.

“Shit.” He grabbed Ensley’s hand, hurried back down the hall to the stateroom, and shoved her inside, and shut the door.

“Get down and stay close to Austin.” He dug into the front of his pants and pulled out a brooch similar to her grandmother’s, but Remy’s had an amethyst stone. “We’ve got to go now. Focus on Mallory Plantation and Charlotte.”

Ensley didn’t ask why.

Remy laid down over her and Austin and recited the chant: “Chan ann le tìm no àite a bhios sinn a’ tomhais an’ gaol ach ’s ann le neart anama.”

They were disappearing into the fog just as the cook burst into the room, firing an automatic, and Remy returned fire.

51

MacKlenna Farm, KY (1885)—Meredith

Meredith watched Elliott enter the mansion and knew something was wrong. It wasn’t how he looked that concerned her, but the way he moved—slowly as if he had lead weights in his shoes. He always carried the heavyweight burden of the family on his shoulders, but never like this. In their almost three decades together, she’d never seen him look so demoralized.

No, that was wrong. Years ago, she went to Elliott’s house and told him she was pregnant and had breast cancer. That was a shock. But when she told him if she didn’t survive, she hoped he would raise the child, that was an even bigger shock, and he had the same weary look that he had now.

What could have