Tuesday Tales – Ring
Hey everyone! Welcome to Tuesday Tales! This week’s word prompt is “ring”. I am stepping away from Gideon and Emma this week. Instead, I am offering a sneak peek of the Fifth Book in the Black Irish Series, The Assassin.
Sloan’s eyes scanned the hills for where the shot had come from. His heart thundered in his chest. Pink paintball paint? Could it be?
He caught sight of a hooded figure in crème robes struggling up the crags in retreat, a sniper rifle firmly in their grip. Without thinking, he started in a sprint after the figure, leaping onto the rocky terrain without slowing down. The faint voices of Bartholomew and Robert echoed behind him as he ran. It was evident the shooter was extremely familiar with the terrain but it didn’t stop Sloan from gaining ground. He was stronger, his stride was longer and he was on a mission. He had to know where the pink paint came from.
When he reached the first ridge he was only yards from the shooter. He pushed himself a little harder to catch up. Once he was a little over an arm’s length away he grabbed the attacker’s robe and flung them to the ground. The rifle scuttled away from them.
The hooded figure slowly rose their hands in surrender. In the brilliant sunlight something glinted on a thin, delicate finger. Abbey’s wedding ring. The voice that came from beneath the cloak made Sloan’s heart slam in his chest. It was soft, barely audible and oh so feminine. “I know you’re going to kill me for what I’ve done. Go ahead. I don’t regret it and I’m not ashamed. But please grant me one act of mercy. I’m American and I know you can contact the United States. Please contact my husband. He is Sloan O’Riley, a billionaire. He lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. He owns Sloan Enterprises. Don’t ask for ransom. Please, just tell him that I love him. I love him more than my life. And tell him I am so sorry for hurting him. I was so stupid. Please tell him I am so sor…” Abbey’s words were cut off by a sob.
Sloan started to shake as tears welled in his eyes. Kneeling before him was his precious wife. He thought she was dead. He mourned her. Now she was on her knees preparing to die at an insurgent’s hand and her last thought?
Sloan couldn’t wait any longer. He gripped Abbey’s hood and tore it back. She blinked against the blinding sunlight. Her face was gaunt and darkened from hours living in the sun. “S-s-sloan?”
He turned to find Bartholomew and Robert peaking the ridge breathlessly. “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you realize some terrorist could just shoot you dead up here?” Robert scolded between pants.
“It’s Abbey!” Sloan near shouted. “I found her. She was the one…”
He turned back to Abbey so he could pull her to her feet and into his arms. Instead he found her lying on the ground unconscious.