One Last Kiss

by Kat Martin

  They had come to fish, or so they’d said. A lot of places along the creek were catch-and-release, but the fish in the lake were keepers. So far neither man had brought back any photos of trophies they had caught, and there was no sign of a fish near their poles, which lay abandoned against the trunk of a tree. They had to be the worst fishermen he’d ever seen—or they weren’t there for the fishing.

  Unease filtered through him. So far they hadn’t given him any reason to be concerned, and yet there was something about them he just didn’t trust. Over the years, he’d had lots of different people as guests. That was what made life interesting. Most of them had been really great people, but there had been a few troublemakers in the crowd.

  The good news was the men would be leaving in three more days. He would just have to keep an eye on them until then. He checked the water, counted heads, then focused the binoculars back on the men across the lake. Neither Max nor Vince was anywhere in sight.

  Apparently nap time was over. The unease returned. He’d be glad when they were gone.

  * * * *

  It was time to return to camp and help Sam get ready for supper. There was always work to do in the camp, Libby discovered. Big John handled the livestock, but Sam took care of the rest. He needed her help, and she was glad.

  The evening meal went smoothly, a combination of fried lake trout Brad and Caleb had caught, hot dogs, potato salad, and chili beans. Libby ate more than she should have, fish not being a problem for her conscience, and Clara’s potato salad was delicious.

  Afterward everyone sang songs around the campfire. Tomorrow morning they would pack up and head back to the ranch. Libby was enjoying herself, but a long hot shower sounded like heaven, and a comfortable mattress beat a narrow cot any day. She had to admit she’d be glad to get home.

  A soft pang echoed in her heart. Not that Bridger Ranch was actually her home.

  In a few more weeks, she’d be leaving, returning to her life in the city. All she’d have left of Sam and the ranch were the memories she made while she was there. Her throat tightened. She wanted Sam, and he wanted her. Libby vowed to make a memory that would stay with her through the years after she left.

  As everyone dispersed to their tents, she glanced toward the tent that belonged to Sam. She wanted to spend the night with him, wanted him to finish what they had started last night. A sigh of frustration escaped. No way was she being the aggressor again tonight, and she knew Sam wouldn’t come to her.

  He had duties, responsibilities. Once they got home, maybe they could find a way to be together.

  The thought hovered deliciously in the back of her mind as she headed for the outhouse before she went to bed. The moon was out, bright enough she didn’t need a flashlight to find the wooden building in the woods.

  Finished, she descended the two wooden steps and walked down the trail back to camp. It was darker here among the pine trees. She gasped as a tall, bulky figure stepped into the trail, blocking her path.

  Libby stiffened. “Get out of my way, Vince.”

  His teeth flashed in a smile more wolfish than friendly. “I’ve been looking for you. I figured you’d have to come here sooner or later.” His blond hair glinted in the moonlight, paler than Sam’s, long and stringy, not thick and silky.

  Libby stiffened her spine. No way was she letting the guy intimidate her. “I’m warning you, Vince. If you don’t get out of my way, I’m going to scream.”

  Instead of backing off, he moved closer. She caught the sudden flash of silver, saw the knife in his hand, and shock rolled through her. She opened her mouth to scream, but Vince’s thick arm wrapped around her neck, dragging her back against him and knocking the breath from her lungs. She felt the edge of the blade at the side of her neck.

  “You aren’t going to scream,” Vince said. “Not if you’re smart. You’re going to give me what you gave Sam Bridger last night, and you’re going to keep your mouth shut. If you don’t, Bridger’s throat will be the next one I cut.”

  Libby was shaking as Vince pressed the knife a little deeper, forcing her off the trail into the forest, spilling a drop of blood that ran down her neck. He was big, more than twice her size, and the hard look in his eyes said he wasn’t bluffing.

  She thought about her self-defense classes, but as long as he held the knife, he was in control. She had to wait, bide her time. She stumbled as he dragged her farther into the forest, turned her around and forced her up against the trunk of a tree. He sheathed the knife, but his big hand remained around her throat, holding her in place.

  Libby whimpered as he popped the snap on the waistband of her jeans and unfastened her zipper.

  “A smart woman would relax and enjoy herself.”

  Bile rose in her throat. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, she jerked her knee up into his groin hard enough to make him grunt, but the impact wasn’t hard enough to make him stop.

  His mouth tightened. So did the thick fingers around her neck. “I like a little fight in a woman, but not too much.” He ran a finger over her cheek. “Just give me what I want, keep your mouth shut, and you’ll be okay.”

  He used his free hand to unzip his pants, and Libby started struggling. No way was she giving in to this animal without a fight. The moment he lowered his head to kiss the side of her neck, she drew back and head-butted him as hard as she could. Pain shot into her skull, and stars appeared behind her eyes. The next instant, Vince was flying backward, a big fist hit him hard in the mouth and he went down.

  Big John Coolwater stood over him, his giant hand fisted. “You can leave now, you and your friend. Or you can ride down with us in the morning and face the sheriff. The choice is yours.”

  Vince worked his jaw. A trail of blood oozed from a cut at the corner of his mouth. “We don’t know the way back.”

  “The horses do. Give them their heads, and they will find their way home. If you have other ideas or plan to make trouble when you get there, I’ll be somewhere behind you. You won’t like what will happen if you make me angry.”

  Max walked out of the woods just then, his gaze running over them as he took in the scene. He was smaller than Vince, dark and wiry instead of blond and beefy. “What the hell have you done, Vince?”

  “Take him and go,” Big John commanded. “Or face the law tomorrow.”

  Max eyed Big John, assessing the situation. Then he turned and nudged Vince’s shoulder with his boot. “Get up, goddammit. I told you not to make trouble.”

  “Fine.” Vince rolled to his feet, wiping the blood off his lips with the back of his hand. “I’m sick of these fucking hillbillies anyway. Let’s get our ass on the road.”

  They stumbled off toward the horses, Big John right behind them. He stopped and turned. “I will be back in the morning.” He started walking and didn’t turn around again.

  Libby took a moment to compose herself. She was trembling all over, her head aching, her mind still spinning. Nausea rolled in her stomach. She took a deep breath and waited until she could control her shaking limbs. Then she adjusted her clothes and started through the trees back up the trail toward camp.

  By the time she got there, she had made a decision. If Big John wanted Sam to know about Vince, he would have said something. Sam was responsible for all the people in camp. If he knew what Vince had done, Sam would go after him. If he did, anything could happen while he was gone.

  Libby decided to wait, tell Sam in the morning. She prayed Big John would be okay, but there was a calm certainty about the man that assured her he would be.

  The camp was quiet when Libby crawled into her tent. A few minutes later, the flap lifted and Sam appeared in the opening.

  “I was starting to worry,” he said.

  She hoped her voice didn’t tremble. “I was...umm...stargazing,” she lied, hoping he wouldn’t see the moisture in her eyes.

  Sam ling
ered in the doorway, and she thought for a moment he might come inside. It was what she wanted most and the very last thing she wanted.

  “Goodnight, Sam,” she said.

  A long moment passed. “Goodnight, Libby.” Sam left the tent, zipping it behind him.

  Libby could hear his soft footfalls as he returned to his tent. Then everything went quiet.

  Tears burned her eyes. If Big John hadn’t shown up when he did, Vince would have raped her. More tears welled and spilled over onto her cheeks. She muffled her sobs with the sleeping bag.

  As the hours slipped past and sleep wouldn’t come, Libby thought of Sam and wished he had stayed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Something was wrong. Sam could feel it in his bones. He’d spent a lousy night in the tent, sleeping off and on, worried and not sure why.

  He climbed out of bed well before dawn and packed up his things for the trip back down the mountain. Big John would be tending the livestock, getting the horses and mules watered, fed, and ready for the journey. Sam felt anxious and unsettled, eager to get back home. He needed to start breakfast, get everyone fed, make sandwiches for lunch on the trail, then get the guests on their way.

  He looked over at Libby’s tent. She’d been up early every morning, but no sign of her yet today. He headed in her direction, paused as he heard movement inside the canvas walls. The zipper went up, and Libby stumbled out.

  She looked up at him, and there were dark circles under her beautiful eyes. “Sam,” she said as he walked toward her. “Sam...” Libby burst into tears and threw herself into his arms.

  “I knew it!” Sam pulled her closer. “I goddamned knew it!” His heart slammed hard inside his chest. Libby was trembling. Sam didn’t let go. “What’s happened? What’s going on?”

  Libby clung to him a few seconds more, then eased away to look into his face. “I-Is Big John back? Is he okay?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him yet this morning.” He drew her over to a fallen log, sat down and pulled her down beside him. “Tell me what happened.”

  Libby dragged in a shaky breath. “I wanted to tell you last night, but I...I knew it was the wrong thing to do.” She leaned against him, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  “Tell me, baby. What’s going on?”

  A slow breath whispered out. “Vince followed me last night. He was waiting in the forest. He had a knife. He tried...he tried to rape me, Sam. Big John came...and...and he stopped Vince before he could hurt me.”

  Sam felt a wave of fury unlike anything he had ever known. If he’d had Vince Nolan’s knife in his hand, he would have killed the son of a bitch right there.

  “Tell me the rest,” he softly commanded, forcing himself under control.

  “Big John hit Vince hard enough to knock him down. Then Max showed up, and Big John gave the men an ultimatum. Leave right then, ride down the mountain last night, or face the sheriff when we got back. The men left, and Big John followed them to make sure they didn’t cause trouble at the ranch.” Libby slid her arms around his neck and leaned into him. “I’m afraid for him, Sam.”

  Sam kissed her temple. Libby was worried about Big John Coolwater. This petite woman who’d been attacked and nearly raped was worried about a man three times her size with skills Sam couldn’t begin to match. It made his chest feel tight.

  “I’ve known John Coolwater for years,” he said. “The man has skills you wouldn’t believe. He may have followed them, but they would never know he was there—not unless he wanted them to. And if something happened, he could handle it. I promise you.”

  She wiped tears from her cheeks. “He said he’d be back this morning.”

  “It’s a helluva ride down and all the way back, but if Big John says he’ll be here, he will be.” He stood up from the log and drew Libby up beside him, had to force himself not to pull her back into his arms. “Are you sure Vince didn’t hurt you?”

  Libby rubbed her forehead. “I head-butted him. I learned it in self-defense class. The teacher forgot to mention how bad it hurts.”

  Sam hadn’t noticed before, but there was a bump near her hairline the size of an egg. “Jesus, honey.”

  “I took some Tylenol. I’ll be okay.”

  “You could have a concussion. Any blurred vision? Anything like that?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “We’ll get you checked out as soon as we get home.”

  She touched her forehead. “It hurts, but I don’t think I hit him hard enough to do any real damage. I think I might have helped Big John a little, kind of gave him an opening, so I guess it was worth it.”

  Sam’s jaw clenched. “Vince Nolan assaulted you. You have the right to press charges. Is that what you want to do?”

  “No. Oh, God no, Sam. Please. I don’t want to talk to the sheriff. I only have a short time left here. I don’t want to spoil it.”

  He swallowed, pulled her close. “A guy named Glen Carver is the Eagle County sheriff. He plays things close to the vest. I’ll let him know what happened. Glen can check on Nolan. If Nolan tried that with you, maybe he’s done it to someone else. There may even be some kind of warrant for his arrest.”

  Libby glanced away.

  Sam didn’t push it. They still had to get back home. “In the meantime, I’ve got some things I need to take care of so we can get out of here. Then I have to cook breakfast. Why don’t you go lie down while I take care of everything?”

  Libby shook her head. “No way. I’ve been lying there staring up at the canvas half the night. I need something to do.” She glanced toward the portable camp kitchen. “I’ll peel the potatoes and start breakfast while you handle whatever you need to do.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  “I’m okay. Really.”

  Sam watched her walk away, and feelings he didn’t know he had welled up inside him. He had underestimated Libby Hale from the moment he watched her getting off that fancy jet airplane. His feelings swelled, mixed with the anger he felt at himself for not being able to protect her. His jaw hardened. No one, he vowed, was ever going to hurt Libby again.

  Dragging in a steadying breath, Sam forced himself to concentrate on the work that had to be done. Heading for Caleb’s tent, he found the dark-haired man ducking through the flap in his boots and jeans, his cowboy hat pulled low.

  “Morning, Sam.” Caleb finished popping the snaps on the front of his plaid Western shirt.

  “Caleb, we had some trouble last night, and Big John had to make a trip down the mountain. I could sure use your help.”

  Caleb’s head came up. “Is he okay?”

  “Far as I know. John plans to come back. Just not sure when he’ll get here.”

  “Anything you need me to do, I’m glad to help.”

  Sam nodded. “You’re good with livestock. Think you could manage to water the horses and mules and get them saddled and ready to leave?”

  “You bet.”

  “Thanks, Caleb.”

  “No worries.” Caleb grinned, clearly in his element. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  Sam had to smile.

  Once people realized he was short-handed and Vince and Max never appeared, everyone began to speculate. Sam said nothing. Libby had been through enough. The good news was everyone pitched in to help, so breaking down the camp after breakfast went faster than it usually did.

  Sam left Libby to finish cleaning up and went to find Caleb. They needed to get the mules loaded, not a job for a novice. He found Big John there, already hard at work.

  “I’m glad you made it back safely,” Sam said, relieved, though he knew how well John could take care of himself.

  “Libby told you?”

  Sam’s hand unconsciously fisted. “She waited till this morning. She figured I had responsibilities here, and you could han
dle Vince and Max on your own.”

  Big John grunted. “Smart woman.”

  “I don’t know whether to be pissed off or thankful.”

  Big John just looked stoic, as if Sam would eventually figure it out. He thought of what Vince Nolan had tried to do, and his jaw clenched hard.

  Sam forced his muscles to relax. “She said you got there before Vince hurt her.”

  Big John spat on the ground. “I was watching him. I saw the way he looked at her. When I noticed she was gone and so was he, I followed.”

  “I’m damned glad you did. Thanks, John, for looking out for her.” He owed his friend a debt he could never repay. Just thinking of what could have happened made an ache throb in his chest.

  “We need to get back,” Big John said. “He could still cause problems.”

  Sam nodded. “I’ll round up the rest of the gear. We’ll ride out as soon as you’ve got the mules packed and ready.”

  As he headed back to camp, Sam thought again of what Vince Nolan had done, and a shot of anger hit him so hard perspiration rose at the back of his neck.

  He wasn’t done with Nolan.

  Not by a long shot.

  Chapter Twelve

  They arrived back at the ranch late that afternoon. Tired, needing a shower and a nap before supper, everyone headed for their cabins. Big John and Caleb tended the animals while Sam strode toward Wolverine Cabin.

  Libby hurried to catch up with him. “I don’t see their car,” she said, searching for the older Ford Fusion that had been parked in front. Sam opened the door, which wasn’t locked, and found the cabin empty. He checked the bedroom, looked in the closet, and checked the bathroom.

  “Their gear is all gone.”

  “Good riddance,” Libby said, her hand touching the scab that had formed on the spot where Vince had pressed his knife against her throat. She suppressed a shiver.

  Sam’s gaze went around the empty cabin, and his jaw tightened. “I almost wish they were here.” He urged her back out the door and closed it behind them. “Clara will have supper mostly done. Why don’t you go upstairs and shower, maybe catch a nap?”