No Angel Read Online Helena Newbury

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 98561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
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He raised a hand in the air and then dropped it forwards, pointing: go!

I ran as fast as I could to the injured woman. When I was halfway there, a soldier came around the corner in front of me. I tried to skid to a stop, then yelped as a shot rang out and the soldier fell. It really was like being divinely protected. I muttered a prayer of thanks to Cal, grabbed the woman’s shoulders, and started dragging her back the way I’d come.

But at that moment, four more soldiers came around the corner: more, maybe, than even Cal could handle at once. Two of them started firing up at the building where Cal was sniping from and the other two started shooting at us. I cursed, changed course, and dragged the woman towards the nearest house, almost running. She cried out in pain, clutching at her leg, and I winced in sympathy, but I didn’t have time to be gentle.

I backed through the door and almost fell into the house with her, just as bullets tore through the front wall. The window disintegrated, spraying glass all over the room. I screamed and threw myself over the woman, trying to shield us both, feeling shards lance my arms.

Hunkered low so we were out of sight, I got a tourniquet on her leg and managed to get the bleeding under control. She was going to need a hospital, but first, I had to get her out of there. I peeked out of the window and saw soldiers flooding the street and firing up at the building where Cal lay. I watched as he was forced to abandon his sniper spot.

We were cut off, and I’d lost my guardian angel.

I crawled around the room, desperately peeking through windows and searching for a way out. But there was no cover nearby: we’d be seen instantly, out in the open. If I’d been on my own, I might have tried running for it, but the woman couldn’t run, and I wasn’t strong enough to carry her.

I heard shouted orders, doors being kicked open and bursts of gunfire: the soldiers were going house-to-house, gunning down anyone they found. Most of the houses at this end of the village had already been abandoned, but any minute, they’d try this house.

The woman was watching me from where she lay on the floor. “Déjame,” she said at last.

I shook my head firmly. No, I wasn’t leaving her.

The bursts of gunfire came closer and closer. What would Gabriel do? Something sneaky and unexpected. Can’t fight. Can’t escape…

Hide. He’d hide.

There was a square trapdoor in the middle of the floor. I hauled it open and found a space about the size of a double bed and only a few feet deep: just big enough for the family to store a small crop of root vegetables out of the sun. It was half full of cassavas and sweet potatoes.

I grabbed the woman by the shoulders again and hauled her into the root cellar, then lay down next to her on my back. When I eased the trap door down, its wood planks were only an inch from our noses.

The gunfire got closer. Then it seemed to die away. Maybe they won’t come in here. Maybe Gabriel and the others have pushed them back.

Then I heard the door fly open and crash against the wall. It happened so suddenly, I had to stifle a scream.

There were enough gaps between the floorboards that I could see slices of what was happening. Two soldiers crept cautiously inside, weapons up and ready, their weight making the floorboards bend and creak. They fanned out, checking the corners. I held my breath. See? I thought desperately. No one here. All gone.

One of the soldiers stepped right onto the trapdoor, sending dust and dirt trickling down onto my face. I forced myself not to twitch.

The soldiers looked around, then one of them grunted something in Spanish and they started to leave. I dug my nails into my palms. Another few seconds…

They were almost at the door when one soldier stopped, tapped his buddy’s shoulder and pointed at something on the floor. I couldn’t see what it was at first. Then one of them picked it up and my insides turned to water.

The medical bag. Why didn’t I bring it with me? Idiot!

The soldier marched over to the trapdoor and pointed his gun right at it: right at us. He snapped an order to the other one, who ran forward and grabbed hold of the trapdoor’s handle, ready to pull it open. They nodded to each other. Uno, counted the one holding the trapdoor.

Dos, he mouthed silently.

I grabbed the woman’s hand and squeezed it hard—

There was a crash as the door was broken off its hinges. Both soldiers turned to look.


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