The Dividing Line (Book 1)

01 Ξ The Stranger (BWWM)

THUMP!

Thankfully, she'd made it halfway there.

With frazzled nerves, her brain locked onto what lay ahead as a voice screamed from deep inside that other more important matters took precedence over her aching muscles.

Though her suffering had nearly run its course, something halted her attempt to pull the body through the kitchen door.

As salty streams raced down her cheeks, an overwhelming desire to end the deep-set ache worked against her as she pushed herself fighting to get her bones in gear.

It hadn't occurred to the woman to be mindful of the threshold and were it not for that hollow thumping sound, Angel's attention wouldn't have been drawn to the entry at all. For some ungodly reason, someone designed the threshold with a two-inch lip requiring anyone accessing that entry to step up just to walk inside.

Of course, that didn't seem like anything to the average physically fit individual who might find themselves accessing that particular door. However, the decision to pull what felt like a weighted log through there most definitely required more finesse and a certain measure of precaution.

The loud hallow sound signaled that both finesse and precaution had been tossed out to complete the task.

Sudden jerking motions bumped against her as his feet kicked out. The stranger's efforts made little impact in her arms leaving her to believe his response to be the last of it.

"Please, stop fighting me. I'm trying to help you."

Angel pleaded with the erratic form as her eyes drew him and the floor around him into her troubled thoughts.

Not quite certain if it was the last of his strength or maybe even the last measure of his life, she waited just long enough for the man's kicking fit to come to an end. Once his energy appeared to have depleted itself, nothing more than the man's limp body was left for her to manage yet again.

Scanning her surroundings, Angel's breath caught in her lungs leading her to question why was it even possible that she should find herself in yet another life-threatening situation.

In every direction that her eyes landed, they were greeted with bright red. Even her clothing had been grossly impacted by the day's events. Not only were they disheveled, but her clothes also displayed a trail of bright red spray diagonally strewn the length of her. The pattern had already set in staining her favorite baby blue T-shirt and faded blue jeans. The state of her attire finally came into view as her eyes made their way glancing from her chest down to her feet.

No matter what she'd witnessed, there was no time to worry about it. The likelihood that the stranger would meet a sudden demise heightened as she worked to figure out a way to help him while holding tightly onto the reigns of her sanity.

A strange man dying in her arms was a scene she had no desire to witness. Without a moment to spare in the name of fear, Angel accepted that she must take on the Herculean task of fixing the mess laid before her or deal with the outcome of doing nothing.

As a near yet distant thought announced his plight should she continue to drag her rear end, an inner voice issued a severe warning to the woman whose mind apparently to lock itself up as a result of the pressure filled situation.

If you don't get a move on it, you'll be forced to find a place to bury him where the critters won't dig him up.

Angel held not the power to prevent herself from considering how long it had been since she'd gathered the pieces of her mind and put them snuggly back together?