Dark Blood. Stuart MacBride

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Dark Blood - Stuart MacBride


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       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Chapter 21

       Chapter 22

       Chapter 23

       Chapter 24

       Chapter 25

       Chapter 26

       Chapter 27

       Chapter 28

       Chapter 29

       Chapter 30

       Chapter 31

       Chapter 32

       Chapter 33

       Chapter 34

       Chapter 35

       Chapter 36

       Chapter 37

       Chapter 38

       Chapter 39

       Chapter 40

       Chapter 41

       Chapter 42

       Chapter 43

       Chapter 44

       Chapter 45

       Chapter 46

       Chapter 47

       Chapter 48

       Chapter 49

       Chapter 50

       Chapter 51

       Chapter 52

       Chapter 53

       Keep Reading

       About the Author

       By Stuart MacBride

       About the Publisher

       1

      Run. Don’t stop. Keep moving…

      The big, fat moon makes everything black and white. Frost and shadow. Life and death.

      Steve stumbles. The churned-up mud’s solid – up and down like a roller-coaster. One foot catches the edge of a rock-hard peak, and he goes sprawling across the icy ground. Tries not to cry out as his arm screams sharp-edged pain.

      Somewhere in the darkness a dog barks. Big dog. Fucking scary big dog. You know? Rottweiler, Doberman: some bastard like that. Big and black, with thousands of teeth. Coming after him.

      ‘Fuck …’ The word disappears into the night sky on a cloud of white breath.

      Big dog.

      He scrambles upright; stands there, trying to get his balance. Feeling sick. Far too much whisky. Makes everything blurry and warm, even though it’s so cold out here his fingers ache with it. Makes the world smell like it’s burning.

      Steve lurches forward, arm clutched to his chest, hugging the shadows along the edge of the building site. Trees blocking the searchlight moon.

      With any luck no one’ll see the trail of blood he’s leaving…

      The dog barks again. Closer.

      But then his luck’s always been for shit.

      Steve speeds up. Lurch, stumble, struggle.

      His left foot cracks through an ice-topped puddle, and he stops. Holding his breath.

      Steve turns, looking back towards the site office. Torches sweep the muddy ground, muffled voices coming this way. That fucking dog yammering


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