"Linnea Sinclair - Rhapsody In The Key of Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sinclair Linnea)

His anger flooded into me, layering over my own jolt of fear like fire on ice.
Burning, boiling as shock mixed with rage.
And in his rage, a desire to kill. Again.
I grabbed the copтАЩs arm, whipped around, trying to pull her out of the line of
fire but Derek was already on his feet, the small dark Racker 750 in his hand. He
fired, the high whine not much more than a hum.
I dropped to the floor as the charge flared by me. He fired again, caught the
cop as she reached for the laser pistol on her hip. She spun, flailing, her weapon
flying from her hand.
Her pain arced, laced my mind like a jagged saw, ripping. DerekтАЩs hatred only
made the edges sharper.
I slammed my mental wall into place as I rolled under a table. I needed my
mind clear, not savaged by his anger or hazy from the copтАЩs pain. Her pistolтАж IтАЩd
glimpsed it skidding under a nearby chair. I had to reach it, stop him. Heart
pounding, I lunged for it just as she gasped out, тАЬOfficer down!тАЭ into her comm
unit.
DerekтАЩs boot came down hard on my wrist as my fingers grazed her pistol.
Fire raced up my arm. I yelped, tried to ignore the pain, tried to pull my arm free.
Twisting awkwardly in my face-down position, I grabbed for his pant leg with my
free arm but couldnтАЩt get purchase on the slick material, couldnтАЩt pull him off
balance. He fired again. In the corner of my vision, the copтАЩs body jerked. But her
harsh gasp was cut off by a loud wail, a keening death cry. One of the тАЩdroids had
activated the security alarm.
тАЬDonтАЩt move!тАЭ I felt his pistol pressed in the middle of my shoulder blades,
then something scrape against the skin of my lower back. My stunner. Derek must
have seen it when I dove for the floor.
тАЬGet up!тАЭ He grabbed my hair, dragged me to my feet. Tears pricked my
eyes. Instinctively, blindly, I swung at him, a backhanded blow, catching him in the
arm. He grunted, locked me in a stranglehold, almost crushing my throat. I gasped,
choking.
тАЬYouтАЩre getting me out of here. Now.тАЭ His voice was that same low growl
Truedell had heard.
He shoved me forward, his hand clenched in my hair, his gun jammed hard in
my side. I could breathe again, but my scalp felt raw. Tears still blurred my vision.
We were halfway to the emergency exit when three uniformed cops filled the
doorway to the dining room.
тАЬHold it!тАЭ
тАЬNo, you hold it.тАЭ He yanked me against him, his arm again around my throat.
тАЬOr she dies.тАЭ
He meant it. His physical proximity and intense emotions overrode my mental
barriers like a high moon tide raging over the sand. I clearly felt his conviction, his
unwavering focus. He absolutely intended to kill me. Even if they let him go.
But I was already dead. Once RRS sets in, it spreads quickly. Six months,
maybe eight. Derek or not, Kieran would be a widower twice. With a chilling clarity I
suddenly realized that was my only regret. Not my investigative career that IтАЩd clung
to, putting it even before my recent marriage. Not my few, close friends in various
departments, who I felt understood who and what I was. Only Kieran. IтАЩd never
been so happy as IтАЩd been with him.
Kieran. I held onto that thought, his image. Repeated it as Derek backed us
quickly towards the exit. One of my people from Division 1 would be here by