A Spinster's Awakening (A New Adventure Begins - Star Elite 2)

“How scandalous,” Augusta cried but with a mischievous grin.

Charity rolled her eyes but allowed herself to be propelled into Monika’s sitting room. Once there, though, she didn’t take a seat as instructed. Instead, she raced over to the window and watched Angus right until he disappeared.

Angus tucked his hands into his pockets as he strolled back to Charity’s house. Now the ladies were all confined in one house, Aaron was going to keep watch while everyone else in the Star Elite tried to work out how the six of them were going to watch over three men; Mr Horvat, and both Lawrence men. Not only that but they had to avoid the curious gazes of the locals and stay out of sight in a village where nobody seemed able to cough without it being recorded by at least half a dozen people. To add to their work-load, they had to make sure that everything they did was kept from the curious women Charity called friends, and even Charity herself, which was going to be difficult seeing as they were using her house.

“Damn, using her home is both a blessing and a curse,” Angus growled aloud.

Absently, he watched his breath fog out before him. He was so absorbed by his thoughts of Charity, and whether he really could contemplate life in a village like this, that Angus failed to notice he was no longer alone. It wasn’t until something hard and heavy hit the back of his head that his thoughts slammed to a stop. Pain exploded behind his eyes. His flinch was instinctive. Just as he whirled around to face his attacker, Angus was struck again, this time on the side of the head. The urge to fall to the floor was strong, especially when he saw the world swirl, and felt bile rise in the back of his throat. He stubbornly refused to give in to either, and instead curled his lip in a snarl of outrage seconds before he yanked the assailant’s weapon off him and rammed it hard into the attacker’s stomach.

The man growled, ducked low, and surged forward, but this time, Angus was ready for him. The fight was swift. It was brutal. Angus took as many hits as he gave. He knew he was fighting someone who was a fighter; someone who was equally adept at disarming an opponent. Unfortunately, Angus knew how to bring a man like his assailant down.

The rain pelted down in thick sheets. Every time Angus looked up he was immediately blinded by a steady deluge of water that made it difficult to see much of anything except a swirling black shadow that continued to attack and retreat. Angus dug deep for the strength to ignore the pain throbbing wildly in his head and took his anger about being caught unawares out on the man before him. Fists landed with bruising accuracy. Grunts and groans shattered the evening peace as the men brawled for supremacy. Blood exploded in his mouth, but Angus merely wiped it off with the back of his hand. A snarl of rage escaped him. He had to get the hood off his attacker, so he could see his face. He wished now he had thought to tug his own hood up but hadn’t because he had wanted to keep a good view of the area around him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t thought to look behind him.

“Damn it,” he snapped, but could only be grateful the man hadn’t attacked while Charity had been with him. “What the Hell do you want with me?”

The assailant didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted his leg and kicked out at Angus, who swiftly side-stepped, but not before grabbing the man’s foot and yanking it around at a painful angle. Once his attacker had been unbalanced, Angus placed a heavy boot against the man’s knee, dropping him to the ground with a heavy thud. The speed in which the man regained his feet was enough to warn Angus that he was going to have to use his gun if he wanted to take this man down and stop him getting back up again.

While Angus did his best to level as many punches on his attacker as he could, he tried to gauge just how tall the man was. The hood of the cloak was pointed, which made Angus suspect the garment had been deliberately chosen to make height impossible to guess unless the hood came off. Determined to do just that, Angus bent over at the waist and surged forward, tackling the man to the ground with a heavy thud.

When he hit the floor, Angus felt a piercing stinging pain in his side. Angus looked down. The sight of the knife handle protruding from his side was enough to make him curse viciously. The man, suspecting death was imminent, scrambled to his feet and raced off down the road. Angus refused to allow him to escape. Withdrawing the knife from his side, he groaned at the thick surge of warmth that swept steadily down his waist and soaked his breaches. There was nothing he could do about the wound except cover it with his hand, which he did as he pushed to his feet.

With his gaze locked on the would-be killer, Angus raced after him.

It transpired that Angus was considerably taller than the knifeman, or Angus was fitter. Whatever the case, Angus caught up with the unknown attacker and drew close enough to be able to stop, take aim, and flick the knife at the man’s thigh with deadly accuracy. The man cried out in pain and stumbled as his leg became immobilised by the wicked blade. One gnarled hand clasped his wounded flesh, but the attacker didn’t stop hobbling. His aim: to reach the thick woods that ran along the back of Charity’s house.

“Damn it, who are you?” Angus growled.

He stopped to remove his gun. The only thing that prevented him from shooting his assailant was the knowledge that he would alert the entire neighbourhood to what was happening. The last thing he needed was the road to be flooded with curious people. It would make finding the attacker damned near impossible. Now, there was just Angus and the attacker out on the empty, rain-soaked street, and Angus knew he had to keep it that way. He also knew that somewhere outside, his friends from the Star Elite were watching, and would be able to intercept the attacker, if only Angus could signal them.

Bending down to retrieve the knife out of his boot, Angus growled and gritted his teeth when the world began to swirl and fade. He couldn’t make his mind up if it was because of the blow to the back of the head he had sustained, or the wound in his side which appeared to be still pouring with blood. Whatever it was that made him dizzy also made him sick. He had no choice but to will it to settle and try to ignore the urge to throw up as he raced after his still-hobbling attacker.

To his disgust, Angus wasn’t fast enough to reach his attacker before the wood swallowed him up. That still didn’t stop Angus from following him. Within seconds he too had vanished into the thick woodland, and a sinister silence ensued.

Stealth was what the Star Elite excelled at. It was a good thing too because it saved Angus’s life. Angus crept through the trees but didn’t need to venture far before he found his attacker leaning against a thick oak tree. The man was busy tying something around the wound in his leg, and didn’t realise he was no longer alone, until Angus slammed him over the head with a heavy branch.

The man slumped to the ground without even a muff

led grunt of protest.

Still armed with the heavy club, Angus began to pat the man down. Once he was sure he didn’t have any other weapons stashed anywhere, Angus kicked away one or two of the larger branches the man lay next to, and swiftly yanked the attacker’s hood off.

“Damn it all to Hell,” he growled in disgust. It was far too dark for him to be able to see much in the way of features.

“I know you,” he hissed, but for the life of him, couldn’t quite remember where he had seen the man before. It was in the village somewhere, he was sure of it, but couldn’t think of a name.

One thing he knew for definite was that his attacker wasn’t Mr Horvat, or old Mr Lawrence.

Still struggling to remember, Angus glanced up at the road that would lead him to Charity’s house. When he tried to take a step toward it, he fell to his knees and was immediately overwhelmed with a sickening dizziness that made going anywhere impossible. With no alternative, Angus had little choice but to fall heavily against the thickest trunk he could find, close enough to conch his assailant again if needed, but far enough away to have a little bit of time to prepare for another vicious assault. One thing Angus could be confident about was that this attacker was going nowhere until he had answered a few of the Star Elite’s questions. The assailant, whatever his name was, had no idea how outclassed and outnumbered he really was yet.

But he would, just as soon as he wakes up, Angus thought with intense satisfaction.

Before he caved in to the need to succumb to the encroaching darkness that threatened to overwhelm him, Angus forced himself to his feet and set about removing the man’s boot laces and belt. When they proved insufficient to tie the man up as securely as he would have liked, Angus began to yank the man’s shirt off. Using his knife, he cut viciously into the shirt, and began to tear it into strips. He was so busy creating ties to secure his attacker that he didn’t notice the man’s fingers twitch. It was too dark to see the man’s eyelids lift just a fraction, enough for the man to see Angus.

Angus had no idea what alerted him to the danger, but something warned him he was at risk. He whirled around in time to find himself face-to-face with the knifeman again. This time, though, Angus was prepared. Coldly, he removed his gun from his breeches and pointed it straight at the knifeman’s head.

“Move and you die,” Angus warned in a voice that was deadly.

The man blinked. The malicious grin that had lit his malevolent face promptly vanished as he found himself staring down the barrel of Angus’s gun.