Chained by REBECCA YORK Read Free Book Online Page A

were standing next to her. “Three men are coming.”
    “Not from Decorah, I guess.”
    “Not likely.”
    “There were two the other night. Or maybe I didn’t see them
all.”
    “It’s definitely three. They all look like the ones you described
yesterday.” His voice turned hard. “I listened to them talking. They’re here to
kill you.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Yes.”
    “How did they find me?”
    “I wish I knew.” Frustration laced his voice. “I don’t know
if I’m strong enough to smash all of them against the stable.”
    “Blow them toward the house.”
    “Toward you?” he asked, his voice full of doubt.
    She told him what she had in mind.
    He made a sound of approval. “Good.”
    “How close are they?”
    “Almost in the ranch yard.”
    In the next moment he was gone again.
    She was just heading back up the tunnel when she heard a
noise outside.
    A man shouted in Spanish. “What the hell? Get in the house.
Quick.”
    Then she heard the sound of shots being fired.
    At the wind? She didn’t know, but it sounded like Matthew
was doing what he promised.
    Above her she heard footsteps pounding across the floor and
more shouts from the men. They were looking for her.
    “She’s been here,” one of them called out. “The bed’s been
slept in. And there’s food and a book on the table.”
    “She must be hiding. Maybe in the tunnel.”
    “Where is it?”
    “We’ll find it.”
    Her heart leaped into her throat. They knew about the escape
route.
    Above her, she heard the thugs searching through the house.
Praying that they wouldn’t find the trapdoor, she ran to the second panel.
Inside was a timer attached to a long-life battery.
    Her heart was throbbing like a drum as she set the timer for
sixty seconds. Long enough for her to get out, but not long enough for them to
figure out where she was. She hoped.
    With the device ready to go, she dashed toward the exit and
stepped out.
    She had just breathed out a small sigh when she saw a man
like the ones from the night before. He was holding a gun in one hand and the
canvas bag in the other.
    “Got ya. Drop your weapon,” he ordered in Spanish.
    She let the gun fall to the ground.
     “And I see you have the money your father stole from San
Marcos, too.”
    “That’s a lie. He didn’t steal anything. It belonged to our
family.”
    The man snorted, and she wondered what other lies he’d been
told about her father.
    She kept her eyes on him as she moved to the side so that
her back was no longer in the doorway.
    “Don’t hurt me,” she pleaded, bracing herself against the
rock by the door as she silently counted in her head.
    Each second seemed to stretch for an eternity. The man spoke
into a microphone clipped to his shirt collar. “I’ve got her. . . . Out back.”
    Just as he finished speaking, she felt an enormous explosion
shake the ground.
    A blast of air, rock and dust came roaring down the tunnel,
knocking the man off his feet and throwing him backward.
    Isabella stood with her legs locked against the ground and
her back braced against the rock, waiting for the world to stop shaking as she
reached for the gun she’d stuffed into her purse.
    The thug had been blown about eight feet away, but a rock
stopped him. He was scrambling to recover, scrambling to get his weapon into
firing position when a blast of wind picked him up and sailed him into a
boulder. Not from the explosion. From Matthew.
    The hombre screamed as he hit. Then he went silent as
he fell to the rocks, his body lying in a broken heap, his neck at an odd
angle.
    She stood there, feeling shell-shocked.
    “Isabella, are you all right?” Matthew asked, his voice
urgent.
    “Yes. Thanks to you.”
    “Thank God.”
    He flicked into view, more solid than she had ever seen him.
The man she remembered from years ago, the man who had kept his word and
protected her.
    “Oh, Matthew.”
    She felt him then, pulling her close and wrapping her in his
arms. She closed her eyes