Erin's Way (21 page)

At least at Richardson Homestead there were servants in the house and the farm manager not too far away, but here, acres of pasture, woods, and hills separated them from the lights of her parents’ home. The nearest thing besides that was a couple of double-wides on the opposite side of the highway, but even those were a half mile away.

She swallowed, sudden uneasiness creeping along her spine. It was a little too spooky for someone who’d always been firmly grounded in reality. The whole woo-woo thing was more along Tabby’s line, what with her artist’s imagination and all. When Erin finally heard the slam of the screen door and the familiar tromp of Sam’s feet in the mudroom, she sagged against the counter with relief. He entered the kitchen on stocking feet, and she ran over to him and wrapped her arms around him.

“Hey!” He pulled her close. “What’s this? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, squirt.”

Erin shook her head and buried her face against his chest. When Sam’s arms tightened around her, she relaxed against him.

“What’s up, Erin?” Sam’s tone turned serious, concern edging his voice.

She shook herself and sighed. “I don’t know. I got weirded out there for a minute. It’s nothing, Sam. I guess it’s just the excitement today. I mean, I’m not high strung, but I kind of lost it. I’m sorry.”

He ducked his head to her level and grinned. “Well anything that lands you in my arms is fine by me.”

He cupped her butt and drew her into him. Erin wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her face for his kiss. She loved the feel of him against her, the roughness of his jeans and the scratchy softness of the wool flannel shirt. When his tongue teased her mouth open, then plundered inside, she moaned against him and pressed her breasts into him.

“Sweet heaven,” Sam groaned. “How long until dinner’s ready?”

“The salad’s in the fridge. I was just getting ready to put the steaks on.”

He lifted her and urged her legs around his waist. “Hold off on them. I’ve got the biggest hard-on. Sure hate to waste it.”

Erin giggled. “Do you want to take care of it here or someplace more comfortable?”

“I might be able to make it as far as the couch, but that’s about it.”

He carried her through the doorway into the family room before letting her feet slide to the floor. In seconds, they had stripped off their clothes. Erin’s eyes widened as she saw the way his cock stood flush with his muscled stomach.

When he caught the direction of her gaze, he said. “I told you.”

Gently he pushed her down to the couch before going to his knees next to it. Slowly, despite his previous impatience, he began to kiss and caress her, his lips and tongue sliding from her mouth along the column of her throat to her breasts. While he kneaded her with one hand, he drew the nipple of her other breast into his mouth and suckled. Erin stared at his dark head, watching his lips on her. It was such an incredible turn on. The heat between her legs became unbearable.

“Touch me, Sam. I need to feel you.”

His fingers found her, teasing her until his mouth could join them. Twisting her hips, he threw her legs over his broad shoulders and cupped her bottom in his hands so he could bring the wet, swollen heat of her to his seeking lips. Erin arched and whimpered as his tongue laved her. He drew her sensitive nub into his mouth at the same time his fingers thrust inside her, and it sent her over the edge.

“Sam!” she writhed against him, wanting him closer and at the same time needing a respite to catch her breath. “Let me touch you.”

He rose to his knees next to her, and she drew him into her mouth. As she caressed him with her hands and lips, Sam groaned.

“Yes, baby. Oh yes.” His big hands caressed her head and shoulders, and Erin felt the fine tremble that shivered through his big body. “Gotta be inside you.”

He sat her up and drew her hips forward until he could guide the tip of his erection to her opening. Erin watched him, her breath panting through kiss-swollen lips.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he growled.

When she did, Sam held her with one arm and braced the other on the back of the couch as he thrust forcefully. Her heart pounded and heat swept through her as her climax built. She clung to him for dear life as they both hurtled over the top. They fell back against the couch cushions, panting and laughing.

“Sweet, Erin. Some things just get better and better,” Sam rumbled. “Wanna shower together? Then I’ll set the table while you sear the steaks.”

She smiled. “If you’ll carry me, it’s a deal. I don’t think my legs will support me.”

The buzz intruded into her sleep. Erin reached over to the nightstand and began to blindly slap the alarm clock until it quit making noise.

“Don’t kill it,” Sam mumbled. “Just tranquilize it.”

“Snooze.”

“Mmm.”

He pulled her back against his broad chest and curled around her. Snuggling against him, Erin smiled sleepily. She loved the way he felt when he cuddled close. It made her feel protected and cherished, like being tucked inside a big bear rug.

“Mmm,” he mumbled again. “Keep that up and we’ll never get out of bed.”

She smiled in the darkness and wiggled her bottom against him. One thing she had discovered about Sam, he loved lazy, sleepy, morning sex as much as she’d discovered she did. When the alarm sounded a second time, Sam was the one who slapped at it at the same time he thrust gently in and out of her. It was vastly different than their lovemaking the previous evening, but just as enjoyable in its own way.

Erin hated when they finally had to get up. Showering and breakfast would come later. Work first. Once the animals were fed, they would return to the house for a meal, but a cup of coffee now was a must. While Sam fired up the woodstove in the living room, Erin put on the coffeemaker. She handed Sam his mug and they both leaned against the kitchen counter to quietly sip the flavorful brew in the dim light from above the stove.

“How many more calves do we have to go this week?” she murmured between sips.

“Five. All experienced cows out on pasture. We’ll ride out and check on them after daylight.” Sam set his mug aside. “You ready?”

“Yeah. I hope it’s warmed up some. I’m ready for spring.”

“Me too, baby.”

Sam tucked his small pistol into the ankle holster he wore. He was the first one out the door, leading the way across the still muddy farmyard to the darkened barn with Erin just a couple of steps behind him. He hadn’t gone far enough for the motion to trigger the security light over the barn door when she heard him grunt and stumble. A split second later, the crack of a rifle punctuated the air.

“Sam!”

“Run, Erin!” he gasped. “Take the truck. Hurry, baby. Keys in it…”

She turned and made a dash for it, slipping in the darkness as her breath escaped in harsh sobs. Behind her, Sam groaned. Over her shoulder she watched him struggle to stand. There was another crack. This time he fell with a dull thud.

“Sam!” Her scream was hoarse. She knew she should obey him, knew she should get to the truck and get out of there, but how could she leave him? Erin stopped. Even in the darkness, she could make out the outline of his body, sprawled in the mud, unmoving.

Oh, God!
Sam!
She started to take a step toward him, but when she heard someone running toward her from the direction of the barn, Erin spun and made a break for the truck again. She had to get help, and whoever was sprinting toward her wasn’t it. She yanked open the truck door and was halfway inside when she was abruptly jerked back by the collar of her coverall.

“Not so fast!”

Cold seeped through her. Matty. The freezing cold of betrayal. She felt immeasurably old, as if someone had sucked the life from her. She turned and glared at her captor.

“How could you?”

Another voice came out of the darkness. “You simply don’t understand the immense motivation of money, darling, but then you’ve always had it, so why should you.”

Erin focused on the slender figure now moving toward her, and realized her entire escape from Andre Delacroix had been just an illusion. When one of her closest friends was so ready to betray her, she’d never had any chance at all. Her gaze slid to Sam’s still form.
Why didn’t he move?
She swayed, afraid for a moment she was simply going to faint.

“You won’t get any help there. Lover boy is gone,” Andre said callously.

No! Erin denied it with every breath in her body, but before she could scream it at Andre, he stepped up and jerked her arm, pulling her toward him. “You’re in luck, though, because I’m willing to take you on, even if you are used goods. And so magnificently used. You and your stud were entertaining, to say the least. Watching you last night made me realize just how well you and I might get along.”

Fury and grief roared through her, making her feel as though her sanity teetered on an edge so fine she had no hope of regaining her balance. He talked as if Sam was dead, and if he was, Andre Delacroix had also soiled one of her last moments with Sam. Erin spit in Andre’s face. His fist cracked into her jaw, rocking her head back and making her see stars for a moment.

“Hey! There’s no need for that,” Matty protested.

Andre laughed. “Shut up, and drive us back to the hotel. I’ll stay with our guest in the back seat.”

Erin tried to look over her shoulder at Sam, but they were dragging her away too fast. She had to get back. Desperately, she yanked against Andre Delacroix. She had to get to Sam. The cold steel of a gun barrel pressed against her temple. Erin quit struggling.

“That’s right, bitch. It’s only a question of time. Do I kill you now or later? Show me enough reason not to shoot, and I might even let you live for a while.”

Even with the pain in her jaw and her heart, Erin somehow gathered her strength around her. No, she wouldn’t let him shoot her now. She wanted to live long enough to make both men pay for what they’d done. Somehow, she’d find a way, no matter how long it took. She struggled to catch one more glimpse of Sam, but Andre’s hold blocked her view.

As they bundled her into the rental car they’d brought with them, dawn lightened the sky. Erin craned her head over her shoulder. She could see him. Her breath caught in her chest, but she managed to keep the scream she felt building inside her silent. Sam lay in the mud unmoving. He couldn’t be dead. Not Sam. Never Sam. He was too vital, too strong. She kept looking over her shoulder as they pulled away from the farmyard.

Get up, Sam! Get up, damn you!

But as they started down the hill, he still hadn’t moved and Erin doubted he ever would. She closed her eyes. It wasn’t pain she felt, it was…hollowness, as though she were eroding from her heart out. She was empty inside. All the lonely spaces Sam had touched and filled began to bleed out until she felt like the Erin who had first come back last fall, the Erin who had arrived a few weeks ago, not caring, not feeling.

Sammy.
She willed her tears away. She would cry for him later, after she’d found a way to get revenge.

Erin tried fighting when they reached the hotel, but Andre clamped a hand over her mouth, half covering her nose as well until she could barely suck in any air. With his free hand, he dragged her toward the door of the motel room.

“Open it. Get her inside. I need to make sure she’ll stay quiet for a while. Did you load that syringe?”

Erin twisted, her eyes widening as she tried to see what they were doing. Drugs? No. No matter what had happened, she didn’t want to be there again, didn’t want to feel that lost, drifting despair. She needed to be able to feel whatever was left of Sam. If they drugged her, she would forget him. She didn’t want to forget him. She kicked backward and caught Andre in the shin. Satisfaction surged through her when he grunted in pain, but then he took it out on her with a crack to the side of her head. It knocked her through the door and to her knees at the edge of the bed. Erin twisted defensively at his approach, her eyes widening again as she saw the syringe in his hand.

“No!”

“Grab her and shut her up,” Andre snarled.

More arms, the arms of
her friend
, confined her, immobilizing her so Andre could drug her. The needle pinched, and he pushed the plunger. Whatever they’d used, it was powerful. The buzzing in her ears grew steadily until it was like being inside a beehive with every angry insect hissing around her head.

* * * *

Sam’s leg and arm burned like the seven levels of hell, but it was the crack on the head that hurt the worst. He clamped his eyes shut against the pain and the nausea roiling inside him. He slowly opened his eyes.
Please don’t let her be lying there dead
. He could deal with anything but that. The farmyard was silent and empty, the door to his truck open so that the interior light cast only a faint glow in the increasing light of morning. She wasn’t there. The house was dark and quiet. Relief and fear filled him. As long as Erin wasn’t lying there already dead, hope remained.

He studied the house. They could be inside, waiting to finish him off. From this angle, he couldn’t see what, if any footprints, led that way. He tried to get to the gun at his ankle, but his injuries wouldn’t let him.

He had to get up, had to get help. Sam lurched to one knee, but the pain in his other leg made it useless, and now the nausea was worse. Braced on one arm and one leg, Sam heaved, the retching making his head pound even worse.

Sweet heaven. Erin. He had to get help. He’d promised he’d keep her safe. Sam sucked in a hoarse breath. He had to tell her he loved her.

With sheer will, he dragged himself forward. His phone was in the truck. If he could just make it there. The burning in his arm and leg intensified as he forced them to at least support some of his weight while he inched his way across the farmyard. Blood trickled into his eye, but he couldn’t even wipe it away for fear he might fall. If he collapsed again, Sam was afraid he wouldn’t wake up.

He had almost made it to his truck when he heard the rumble of another vehicle rolling up the driveway. Sam pulled himself into a sitting position, his weight leaning against the truck tire. If it was Erin’s kidnappers, there was little he could do. His service revolver and his hunting rifles were all inside the house. Even the pistol he carried in his ankle holster would be of no help. His right arm was dangling uselessly by his side, and he could feel the slow trickle of blood still oozing from the bullet wound. He could shoot left handed. He just couldn’t reach his backup because of the wound in his leg.