Dark Angel by Tracy Grant Page B

young and slight, barely more than a boy. And, Adam determined quickly, he was unarmed. "Take us to the others," Adam whispered. "No sound, now. Understood?"
    The boy tried to nod, but the movement brought his head closer to the knife, and his eyes opened wider still. Hawkins moved the knife an inch or so away, but kept his hand over the boy's mouth. In this fashion they walked to the clearing where they had left the horses, listening for the sound of the voices that had woken Adam earlier.
    But they heard nothing in the clear quiet of the night save a soft neigh and the stamp of a hoof. When they reached the horses, they saw the men, three of them, standing in attitudes of watchfulness, apparently waiting for their lookout to return and tell them there was no danger of pursuit.
    Adam stepped forward from the shadow of the rock, his eyes seeking out the man who must be their leader. "These are my horses," he said, his eyes lighting on the shortest of the three, a stocky man with broad shoulders and short thick arms. The startled glances of the other two went toward the short man, which told Adam he had been right in addressing him. "Luis?" one of them said in a strangled voice.
    Luis held his ground, his eyes fixed on Adam. "Your horses," he said quietly. He spat, and then he laughed, a full-voiced, raucous sound that split the silence of the night and set his companions laughing as well. "Your horses," he said again when he had caught his breath. "The horses belong to the man who takes them. They are no longer yours, Señor."
    Adam raised his hand and Hawkins came forward, pushing the boy before him. The knife gleamed in the moonlight and told its own story. "Leave," Adam said. "Leave now or the boy dies."
    Luis became very still. His eyes went to the boy, then back to Adam. "Three horses. Two men."
    Adam said nothing. Let him think there was a third man with them, a man who was perhaps also armed.
    Hawkins took his hand from the boy's mouth and drew the knife closer to his throat. The boy's knees gave way and he would have fallen had Hawkins not tightened his grip. The boy's voice quavered. "Please, Luis."
    There was a flicker of some emotion in Luis's eyes. Adam saw it and thought it was concern for the boy's safety. "Listen to him, Luis," Adam said softly. "The horses are ours. If it takes blood, we will keep them."
    His eyes intent on Luis, Adam ignored his other senses. When it was too late, he recognized them: a sour smell of sweat; the sudden warmth of another body behind him. Fool. He should have guarded his back. Before he could move, an enormous arm crushed his chest and a knifepoint rested against his spine.
    Luis laughed again and turned to Hawkins. "Let the boy go or your friend is dead."
    They could bluff, they could stall, but Adam knew he might well get another knife between his ribs and the end would be the same. They had to give up the boy. He turned his head and met Hawkins's eyes. Hawkins withdrew his knife and pushed the boy forward. The knife disappeared beneath his coat. Please God, these men would let them keep that at least. They might lose the horses, but if they had to walk every step of the way, Adam was going to see Caroline and Emily safe in Portugal.
    The boy, let loose from Hawkins's grasp, stumbled across the clearing and fell to the ground before Luis where he lay sobbing out his fear. Luis spat again and kicked him away.
    Adam's captor released his hold and withdrew the knifepoint. Adam moved toward Hawkins and was arrested by a heavy hand on his shoulder. He looked round. The man was huge, a half head taller than Adam and twice as broad. Adam had debated taking on the other three, but this glimpse of the fourth man told him it would be futile. They would be little use to Caroline if they were injured and none at all if they were dead.
    Adam turned his attention back to Luis, who was conferring in a low voice with the other two men. The boy had risen and joined them. He seemed agitated. He