Knight Moves: Merriweather Sisters Time Travel (Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Romance Book 2) Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  There was a little girl

  Impossible things

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Reading List

  Want more

  About

  Knight Moves

  A Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Novel

  Book 2

  Cynthia Luhrs

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Knight Moves, A Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Novel

  Copyright © 2015 by Cynthia Luhrs

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my fabulous editor, Arran at Editing720

  To everyone who ever believed in fairy tales.

  There was a little girl

  by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  There was a little girl,

  Who had a little curl,

  Right in the middle of her forehead.

  When she was good,

  She was very good indeed,

  But when she was bad she was horrid.

  Through the Looking Glass

  by Lewis Carroll

  …Alice laughed. “There's no use trying,” she said: “one can’t believe impossible things.”

  “I daresay you haven't had much practice,” said the Queen.

  “When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day.

  Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast…”

  Chapter One

  Present Day—Holden Beach, North Carolina

  Melinda Merriweather slammed the laptop shut, making the table wobble precariously.

  “Have you seen the story?”

  Without waiting for Charlotte’s answer, Melinda ranted, “It says—and I quote—Simon Grey, Lord Blackford, and his American guest, Lucy Merriweather, were lost at sea after a crumbling wall at Blackford Castle gave way and they plunged to their deaths. The treacherous currents swept the bodies out to sea.”

  She arched a brow at her youngest sister, anger stretching her face tight. “What a load of horseshit. We are going back.”

  “No. I can’t deal with seeing that desolate place again.” Charlotte shivered. “It oozes sadness and heartbreak. But I can’t stay here either. Everything reminds me of Lucy.”

  Melinda didn’t want to hear the rest, but Charlotte hurried on. “So I’m leaving. But I’m not going to England. I need to get away. Far away. There’s a gig in Djibouti and I’m taking it. I leave tomorrow.”

  How could Charlotte not want to go back? There had to be something the authorities missed. They’d flown over as soon as they were contacted about Lucy. Everything the authorities said seemed to filter in through a big ball of cotton. To lose your sister and aunt on the same day stretched Melinda’s ability to concentrate to the limit.

  The cops found Lucy’s phone smashed on the rocks. But her purse was in the small cottage on the property, along with all her clothes. Melinda didn’t think her sister would leave her purse and passport unattended. The facts made sense, yet something felt off.

  A feeling was enough. Melinda was going back to England and not leaving until the feelings of wrongness went away. Lucy would’ve done the same for her.

  Melinda opened up the laptop again and started to make plans.

  What were the chances? Melinda booked the last ticket and now, two weeks later, she was ready to go. Her flight left at six tonight. Preoccupied with whom she would speak to first, she yelped when the headlights seemed to appear out of the sky. It was foggy but the idiot was almost on top of her. The horn blared; she swerved and swore. The driver kept going.

  A sigh of relief whooshed out and she slumped into the seat, feeling the adrenaline leave her body. Better pay closer attention to the road.

  Only a few more exits until the airport. She switched the satellite radio to eighties tunes and glanced in the rearview to see the same car. If he got any closer he’d be sitting in the backseat.

  Barely resisting the urge to slam the brakes and teach the jerk a lesson, Melinda took the next exit and pulled into the right lane to let him pass. Where was everybody? It was three o’clock on a Wednesday; people should be out and about. But the road was practically deserted. She counted two cars going the opposite direction.

  One second. She looked down for one second when she felt the impact. The last thing she saw was the ugly face staring at her through the windshield of the other vehicle before everything went black.

  Melinda blinked slowly. Every inch of her body hurt. The smell of smoke and burning rubber made her wrinkle her nose and breathe through her mouth. As she looked to the right, she let out a squeak. The voice in her head laughed. A squeak? You do not squeak. Scream, yell, rant, rave. But never ever squeak.

  The fact she was talking to herself made her worry. How badly was she injured? Trudy, her reliable, trusty car, looked like somebody had taken it and put it through a mixer. Seeing the heap of metal, Melinda sent up thanks to whoever was watching over her that she was somehow on the ground away from the car. Thank the stars she wasn’t dead. Though right about now she felt like she was dead. Then again. If you were dead, likely you didn’t feel anything. So a body screaming in pain was actually a good sign, right?

  Shoes appeared in her line of vision. Scuffed brown boots. Followed the boots up denim-clad legs to a Peatbog Faeries t-shirt. The man possessed one of the ugliest faces she’d ever seen.

  “Call 911. I think I’m dying.”

  The man sneered, “That’s the idea, love.”

  Her brain registered the fact he was English. And that set off all kinds of internal alarms. Melinda tried to sit up, screamed in pain, and stopped moving. If she could stop breathing, maybe everything would stop throbbing in time to her erratic heartbeat.

  “Shut up and call for help.”

  “Red, you should have left the country like baby sister Charlotte. Don’t worry. My partner is on the way t
o end her. The client asked for fire, so she’ll burn.”

  The man looked around to make sure they were alone. Why wasn’t there ever a cop around when you needed one? Better yet, some comic book superhero to fly down and kick this guy’s ass.

  “You’re wrong. I’m leaving the country. I was on my way when you smashed into me.”

  The man laughed. “To London. Wrong choice. You nosy Americans can’t leave things alone, can you?”

  An awful suspicion tried to take shape in her muddled brain. Before she could make sense of the thought, he spoke again.

  “My client might be dead. Doesn’t matter. I always finish the job, no matter what. He wanted you two birds taken out, so that’s what will happen.”

  He reached behind him, hands going to his back, and Melinda found herself looking down the barrel of a gun. In the afternoon light, the patchy fog turned the black of the gun blue. And for an instant she thought it looked rather pretty. That was until she heard the sound of the safety clicking off.

  “Nothing personal. Just business.”

  Everything seemed to slow down until there was only her watching him. She noticed his eyes narrow. The corner of his mouth tightened and a vein in his neck throbbed. Melinda fancied she could see his finger slowly squeezing the trigger. And then the world exploded into sound.

  “Drop the gun!”

  A sigh of relief escaped. The cops had arrived.

  “Bollocks.”

  And in that strange way time has of slowing down, Melinda saw his mouth moving, tried to make out the words, while at the same time she heard the click of the trigger. She closed her eyes to wish the bullet away.

  The noise sounded like firecrackers. Shouldn’t she be dead? One eye cracked open, then the other. Beside her on the wet pavement lay the man. Eyes open and unseeing, a round red hole in the center of his forehead.

  Hysteria took over: “…a little curl right in the middle of her forehead…” One of her favorite childhood poems filling her head, repeating over and over on some kind of demented loop.

  Why did they have to kill him? A bullet to the leg should have stopped the guy. Now she’d never get answers.

  Who was the client he worked for? He’d said his client was dead. Simon? Why would Simon want she and Charlotte dead?

  Oh no, no, no. Did Simon kill Lucy and now wanted to make sure she and Charlotte didn’t cause trouble? The jerk could’ve faked his death.

  But wouldn’t this guy know that? So many questions. Melinda knew one thing. If Simon wasn’t dead, she was going to kill him with her bare hands.

  “Miss. Stay with me.” The cop turned his head, yelling over his shoulder, “We’re losing her. Where’s my bus?”

  He took her hand in his. She felt the rough skin on his fingers rub against her palm. Kind eyes looked down at her. They were brown, like a happy cow.

  “I don’t want to die.” As she said the words, she felt like an old-fashioned clock winding down. Her breath turned to ice deep within her chest.

  The voice in her head screamed, No! You can’t die. You have to find out what happened. If you die, there won’t be anyone to warn Charlotte.

  She heard muffled noises, groaned as hands lifted her onto a hard surface. Saw the roof of the ambulance and watched as the scene in front of her started to shrink in from the sides, slowly going dark.

  From far below, she heard a voice. “Stay with me. Come on, we’re losing her.”

  The scream of machines, then someone yelling, “Code blue.”

  Chapter Two

  Melinda opened her eyes to a sea of white and an antiseptic smell. It took a few minutes to realize she was lying in a hospital bed. She tried to speak, but her throat spasmed; the words tumbled out, garbled. A hand touched hers. She looked up to see Charlotte.

  “Don’t try to talk. I’ll get some water.”

  At least she was alive. Melinda tried to remember what had happened.

  Charlotte must’ve gone to get the doctor, because a super-hot man wearing a white coat strode into the room looking very professional and busy.

  “Glad you’re awake.”

  “I need to go home.” She had to get home, book another ticket, and find out what the hell was going on.

  The doctor chuckled. “Let’s take it easy.”

  His face transformed into the serious doctor look, making Melinda wonder what kind of bad news he was about to impart.

  “You’ve been in a coma for almost five months, Mellie.”

  Charlotte only called her by the childhood nickname when something was really wrong or she was horribly upset.

  The doctor went through his spiel while Melinda swallowed down the rising panic.

  “Stop. Why can’t I remember what happened? All I remember is a man purposely running me off the road.”

  She could almost see his face, almost hear the words as he leaned over her.

  “I can’t remember what he said. I know he meant me harm.” She looked at Charlotte. “And you too.”

  “The cops said it was road rage.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Talk about cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.”

  The doctor looked sympathetic. “It’s normal to experience memory loss. You’re doing remarkably well, all things considered. You are one lucky woman. We’ll reevaluate in a few days; run some more tests before making any determinations.”

  A nurse finished fussing over her, and set a tray on the table containing disgusting green Jell-O and something else unidentifiable that smelled hideous. With a wide smile, she turned and left with the doctor. Charlotte waited until they closed the door before she spoke.

  “I’ve been here with you the whole time, Mellie. You don’t now how worried I’ve been.” Charlotte’s voice wavered.

  Melinda swallowed a couple times before answering. Her voice was a gravelly whisper. “Thank you for being here. I have to remember what that jerk said to me.”

  She paused. What was it? The accent. “I know he was English. Dammit, why can’t I remember more?”

  “The memory will come back in time. At least, the doctor thinks it will.” Charlotte picked at her fingernail polish and wouldn’t meet Melinda’s eyes.

  “Don’t be mad, Mellie. I have to leave.” Charlotte held up a hand. Melinda shut her mouth with a snap. Charlotte never showed such gumption. Her little sister was growing a backbone. Good for her.

  “Don’t give me that look. You don’t understand. You died in the ambulance and they brought you back. I lost one sister. I can’t lose another.”

  Charlotte took a deep breath. “There’s a project deep in the Carpathian Mountains. Some kind of archaeological dig. Holden Beach just isn’t the same anymore with Aunt Pittypat and Lucy gone. Everywhere I look I see sadness. You walk around like a zombie. Barely functioning at work, and you’ve quit smiling.”

  She squeezed Melinda’s hand in hers and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

  “I’ll stay until they let you go home, and then I’m leaving.”

  One thing about her sister—she might be the free spirit of the family, but when Charlotte made up her mind, there was no changing it. Melinda knew better than to try. She wanted desperately to keep Charlotte next to her, keep her safe. But knowing she couldn’t, she pushed the feelings down, managing a tiny half-smile.

  “Thank you for staying with me and believing I would make it back. I thought I heard your voice calling me back from the shadows.”

  She looked up at her baby sister, tears in her eyes. “I swear I heard Lucy’s voice too. Maybe I was dreaming; maybe it was something more. She sounded happy.”

  Melinda motioned Charlotte closer and whispered, “I won’t nag you to death about staying if you promise to do one thing for me.”

  “Anything.”

  “I’m not staying here a few more days. I’ll rest today, but tomorrow I’m outta here. I need answers. The only place I’ll find them is in England. Where Lucy disappeared.”

  Charlotte smiled. “I’ll pinky swear.”

&n
bsp; Melinda held out her pinky, letting the tears roll down her cheek as they swore the solemn oath from childhood.

  Charlotte insisted on driving to the airport, claiming Melinda might still be loopy from the drugs they’d given her in the hospital. Her baby sister got out, grabbed her bags from the trunk, and hugged her. Melinda swallowed.

  “Be careful. Now that the psycho is dead, we should be safe, but all the same, you’re going to vampire country.”

  Charlotte waved a hand in the air, the stack of bracelets on her arm tinkling.

  “Will you ever quit teasing me about what I read?” She hugged Melinda tight. “Be careful driving back home. Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

  “I’m fine. Go.”

  “I thought the doc was going to stroke out when we signed you out.”

  “He was pretty ticked. Promise I’ll take it easy. Now get going, or you’ll miss your flight. I’m going home to stare at the ocean, read, and take a long nap.” Melinda crossed her fingers behind her back so the lie wouldn’t count.

  She drove to the house, parked the car in the garage, grabbed the bags she’d stashed in the bathroom, and left the keys with a neighbor. The lady who lived next door had a son who needed a place to stay. He’d housesit while she was in England. She’d asked for two weeks’ vacation and hoped it would be enough time. A horn sounded, signaling the car was waiting.

  The driver stowed Melinda’s bags then held the door.

  “One stop before the airport.”

  At the cemetery, Melinda made her way down the meandering path to the Merriweather family plot.

  “I know you would understand what I have to do.” Melinda arranged the flowers in front of the tombstone. Aunt Pittypat would have loved the bright colors.

  “I swear I will find out what happened to Lucy. Charlotte and I are out of danger, but I’ll always look out for her. Promise.” She blew her nose. “Wherever you are, any help you can give me from the great beyond would be greatly appreciated.”