She cried out his name in pleasure, and he nearly lost it right then.
“More,” she begged.
He knew if he gave her much more, he would be giving everything. And he only had the one condom.
Why did he only have one damned condom?
Because he shouldn’t be using any with her.
Screw that. He needed to make it last.
He bent down to give attention to her beautiful breasts. Small, but sexy. He sucked on one of her nipples while teasing the other with his fingers. At some point one of them knocked over one the barstools.
She held onto him, her hands clenching his hair in the sexiest way. When he moaned against her neck, she tensed. For a second, he thought he may have done something wrong, but then he felt the first pulse of her orgasm.
“God, Sam,” he said into her warm skin while kissing her neck. She’d made it too easy for him. He’d been prepared to work for it, but she was ahead of him.
Each constriction urged him closer to his own climax, and when he was certain she had finished, he gave in with a loud groan.
Afterward, they leaned against each other, fighting to catch their breath. Holy shit. His legs trembled, barely able to hold him up.
“Wow,” she said. “Why do people have sex in bed when countertop sex is so amazing?”
He laughed, and kissed her before he went to toss the condom. The guilt hadn’t kicked in yet, he was still riding a wave of pleasure and relaxation. He felt great. Better than great. He felt things—
Damn. Things he couldn’t have with her.
He handed over her shirt and searched for her panties as they helped each other dress.
She looked up at him. “Please don’t say this shouldn’t have happened. I don’t want you to ruin it.”
“I’m not going to say that.” He paused. “But…surely, you know it wasn’t supposed to happen.”
She tilted her head. “As in, it happens all the time even though it’s not supposed to? Or as in, it really never happens…?”
“It really never happens. At least, never to me.” Not once.
“Hmm.” Her lips curved.
He stepped forward to wipe that smug look off her face with a blistering kiss when the house alarms went off.
He froze. An intruder.
It only took him a fraction of a second to switch gears. He burst into action.
His burning physical desire turned instantly to the icy calm of a skilled law enforcement officer.
Saving her life was now his only thought.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sam covered her ears against the alarm blaring though the house and looked at Garrett. Fear grabbed her by the throat.
Right before her eyes, he turned into the man she’d met in the alley behind the restaurant. The man who’d held a gun to her head and ordered her to keep up as he dragged her along. He ran to his laptop and tapped on the keyboard, then stepped backward as though the image on the monitor was too awful to look at.
“Sam, run.” He said it so calmly the words didn’t make sense.
“What?”
“Out the back. Someone pulled in the driveway. Go. Just like we talked about. The bunker. Run.” He handed her a gun and pushed her toward the deck. “Now.”
She stopped when he didn’t follow her. “What about you?”
“Sam! Now!” His sharp look had her moving again.
She stopped asking questions. Maybe he had a plan. Maybe his plan wasn’t to deal with whatever was coming up the driveway alone. Maybe he had explosives set to detonate when someone stepped on the front porch. Something like that.
She ran across the deck as two black SUVs pulled up in front of the house next to Garrett’s Jeep. At least five men poured out of the vehicle.
Her feet didn’t even seem to touch the ground as she bolted up the hill, running faster than she ever had before.
Instincts took over as she sprinted up the railroad bed, stopping momentarily behind a tree to make sure no one was following her. It wouldn’t be a good idea to lead them to her hiding spot.
After taking a moment to listen, she heard nothing but her heartbeat pounding in her ears. No one was coming.
She took off again. Left at the arrow, and left again at the tree that was down. She saw the markers she’d made. The small pile of rocks.
The air cracked with the sound of a gunshot, like thunder during a storm that was too close.
“Garrett!” She gasped as she skidded to a stop. A different instinct made her turn back for a few steps, but then she paused again. No. Keep going. She needed to do what he’d told her. Surely, he would meet her there.
Her feet carried her faster as more shots rang out.
When she held her hand to the panel, she wondered how she had gotten to the bunker so quickly. She closed the door and went to the keypad.
“Zero, three, one, three,” she told herself as she punched in the code. The hatch popped. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask Garrett what the numbers meant. Was it his birth date? Or of someone he cared about?
As she pulled the hatch shut and turned on the light, she realized how badly she was trembling. She was shaking worse than when she’d been running through the woods. She was safe now, but she was terrified.
Garrett was still out there.
Suddenly, she understood what he had meant by complicated. With anyone else, she would have been content to stay here and hide. But Garrett was out there, alone, and she cared about him.
She couldn’t just wait here for ten days where it was safe, while he lay up there bleeding or dying. She just couldn’t. What if he needed her help?
She could almost hear Garrett’s gruff voice telling her to stay where she was.
But how was he supposed to fend off five or more armed men? He couldn’t. Even as skilled as he was, that would be impossible.
Without consciously realizing what she was doing, she strapped her rifle over her shoulder and picked up a box of ammo. It wouldn’t do any good to have to stop to reload, so she stole the clips from the three neighboring guns of the same caliber.
She tucked the Glock down the back of her jeans, and filled her pockets with clips and extra bullets.
Without so much as a second of hesitation, she left the safety of the bunker.
And went to save the man she was falling in love with.
Chapter Thirty
Finding her way back to the house took no thought. Sam had done it so many times her feet knew the way by instinct. No doubt, the reason Garrett had made her do it over and over and over.
Which left her mind free to make a plan. Or try to. Soon, she found herself on the hill behind the house.
One man stood on the deck, looking over the edge. She spared a glance at the impressive-looking gun in his hands. Two more men stood out front by the vehicles. She propped her rifle on a tree branch and used the scope to check out inside the cabin.
Oh, God! Garrett was fighting off two guys, and he was bleeding from his right arm. Three other men lay on the floor in the living room, not moving.
Eight enemies? This was worse than she thought.
She lined up her first shot. The man on the deck. He was closest to her. Since she’d run straight back into danger, self-preservation obviously wasn’t her biggest concern, but she was rational enough to know he posed the biggest threat. If he got to her, she couldn’t help Garrett.
So, first the deck. Then the two men inside. While the two from outside ran inside, she would change out her clip and take them out when they came into the living room.
After running it through her mind twice, she took a deep breath, pulled the clips from her pockets, and lined them up on the log next to her.
She flipped off the safety…and noticed how badly her hands were shaking.
“Get it together, Sam. Garrett needs you.”
By this time, he was down on the floor, being kicked.
“Come on. You can do this. For him. Calm down. Focus. Breat
he.”
She took another deep breath, and wiped her hand on her jeans. Then she propped the gun on the branch again, and focused in on her first target. He was looking over the railing, and seemed to have noticed her footprints in the mud on the bank.
Letting out the breath, she squeezed the trigger. He went down.
She didn’t look at him again. She moved the gun and sighted in on the men inside the cabin. Since Garrett was on the floor, there was no risk of hitting him by accident.
She would need to do both shots quick. One fluid action.
She pulled the trigger. The gun thumped into her shoulder, but before she could register the pain from the recoil, she pulled back the bolt and chambered the next bullet. She quickly fired again, and the second man fell with the first who was still going down.
She didn’t risk another glance at them as she quickly repositioned the rifle. That was when she saw three men coming around the side of the house.
Crap. That wasn’t what she’d planned for.
They were looking up into the woods with their guns drawn, turning and searching in disarray. They obviously hadn’t spotted her yet.
“Come on, you can do it,” she told herself in a whisper. “One fluid movement. Three shots. Take the bastards down.”
It ended up being four shots because the last man ducked. She could live with that.
She reached for the next clip, but after surveying the bodies, she saw no movement.
None.
Not even from Garrett.
Chapter Thirty-One
With her heart in her throat, Sam leaned her rifle against the tree and pulled the Glock from the back of her waistband. She ran down the bank and jumped over the railing, careful not to look at the body lying there.
Holding the pistol up and ready, she pushed the door open and checked the room for any enemy she had missed.
All clear.
“Garrett?” she called to him.
Nothing.
Please don’t let him be dead. Please don’t let him be dead.
She went to the front door and saw another man lying in the parking area. Garrett must have taken him out.
Once she felt confident that everyone was down and accounted for, she ran back to Garrett and set the Glock on the floor right next to her, in case she needed it in a hurry.
“Garrett?” she whispered, and held her fingers to his throat. His pulse against her fingertips nearly made her shriek with joy.
She quickly checked him over—though she was not really qualified to make any kind of medical diagnoses or decisions. But she was all he had.
His arm was covered in blood from a deep gash across his biceps, but he didn’t appear to be bleeding from anywhere else other than his lip. He had been kicked, though, so she worried he might be bleeding internally. She didn’t dare move him until she knew more.
“Garrett, please wake up. Please?”
As if in answer to her plea, his eyelids fluttered. He squeezed them tightly closed for a moment, then opened them again, focusing on her face.
“Sam?” He spit blood and winced.
“I’m here, baby.”
“Please tell me I have been laying here for ten days and you did not come back to help me after I told you to run.”
She knew he was trying to be angry, but his voice wasn’t up for it. He sounded more exhausted than irritated.
“Not ten days. Sorry,” she offered with a wince.
He tried to sit up and gasped in pain. He pulled up his shirt sleeve and shook his head. “Damn it.”
“Are you okay?”
He examined it closer. “The bullet went through. I’ll be fine.”
“Let me get you a towel. We can put pressure on it to stop the bleeding.”
“We need to get moving before the next team arrives to finish up what these guys started.” He started to rise. His quick breath whistled across his teeth. “Go pack your things.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “But you’re hurt.”
“Sam, for Christ’s sake, can you please start listening?”
“Okay.” She nodded, but tied the towel around his arm first and helped him to his feet. When he was standing under his own power without falling over, she ran down the hall and did as he’d ordered.
It took maybe a minute to stuff everything she owned into her backpack. Then she ran back out to the living room.
Garrett was moving a little better, but he wasn’t fast, by any means. He handed her the Glock, which she crammed in her waistband.
“The rifle. I left it leaning against a tree.” She pointed out at the woods.
“Leave it,” he snapped.
A twinge of unease twisted her stomach. That gun had become like a friend to her. It had saved her life, as well as Garrett’s. But rather than admit to having formed an unnatural affection to a firearm, she simply nodded in agreement.
Garrett wasn’t packing much in the way of clothes. Instead, he was loading up more guns and ammo. The first aid kit and a large manila envelope were tossed into a grocery bag.
“Let’s go.” He tossed his laptop in his duffel bag and struggled to get it over his head. She took it from him and slid it over her shoulder with her backpack as he swayed.
She grabbed his arm and steadied him. If he fell, she didn’t know how she would ever get him out of the house. He just needed to stay upright until she could get him to the Jeep.
But where she’d go from there, she had no earthly clue.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Garrett shook off Sam’s hand and picked up the grocery bag of miscellaneous items, determined to carry something…despite the fact his vision was blurry and he was barely able to stand. He was trained to do his job through pain and injury, and he would damn well do it now.
With his gun drawn, he went out the front door. He didn’t bother to lock up—he wouldn’t ever come back here. Too bad, he’d really liked this place.
“You won’t be able to come back because of me,” she said, walking by his side. Sometimes she was too observant.
“It’s no longer safe.”
“Are you going to blow it up?”
He managed a smile. “No. That only happens in the movies.” He started for the driver’s door but couldn’t even get his arm up to open it.
“Oh, hell no,” she said. “I’ll drive.”
“I’ll be fine.” He tried again, but his arm wasn’t moving right.
“You aren’t fine, Garrett. And I’m driving.”
He glanced down the narrow driveway, which was partially blocked by a black sedan in a very inconvenient spot. Couldn’t anything go right?
He opened the door of the sedan and slammed it shut again when he didn’t see the keys. They must be on one of the dead guys, and there wasn’t time to search all those pockets.
She smiled as he frowned. “I’m on it.” She reached behind the Jeep’s seat and pulled out her chain.
Fuck. He was never going to live this down.
Maybe strings weren’t a good thing, but he wouldn’t be able to argue against the necessity of a chain now and then. Her idea would be quicker and less disgusting than sorting through pockets.
With a sigh, he stepped back and leaned against a tree for support.
She backed the Jeep up to the car. He was impressed when she didn’t stall it. After she connected her chain to the tow loops under the car’s bumper, she hooked it to the hitch on the back of the Jeep, got in, and pulled forward across the parking area, just far enough that the car was no longer in the way.
After retrieving the chain, with a smirk on her face, she held open the Jeep’s passenger door for him. He gave in.
She slid behind the wheel and tore off down the lane, driving way too fast. Not that he blamed her for wanting to put as much distance between them and the chance of being caught. Garrett winced sharply when she hit a pothole hard enough to make him come out of his seat.
“I know your arm is bleeding,” she said with a glan
ce at his hand holding his ribs, “but what about the rest of you? They were kicking you.”
“I’ll be fine. Stop worrying. You’re not even supposed to be here. You’re supposed to still be hiding like I told you. Don’t think for a second that I’m not pissed that you didn’t listen.” He huffed, then winced again.
He was being ridiculous. Obviously if she hadn’t come back, he’d be dead right now. But things could have gone terribly wrong. She might have been killed, too. And Howe would have gotten away with murder because Garrett had failed to protect her.
She looked like she wanted to shout back at him. And point out that he needed her as much as she needed him.
But she said nothing until they got to the end of the lane, except to ask, “Which way?”
He was already tapping a destination into the GPS. He turned it toward her so she could see. “Go right.” His voice was fading fast. “Follow this. I’m going to rest now.”
“What? No! You can’t rest, Garrett. You got kicked in the damn head. You could have a concussion. You need to stay awake.” She reached over and shook him between shifting gears. “Stay awake!”
“You’re getting on my nerves,” he mumbled. All he wanted to do was to give into the darkness that was pressing at his vision. At the moment, he didn’t even care if he ever woke up.
He should care. He knew that. But he couldn’t muster the will.
“Garrett, you cannot leave me high and dry. You told me I need to trust you, remember? Well, I do. I trust you to help me. So, stay awake and help me!”
Of all the things she chose to remember, naturally it would be the thing that was most inconvenient. “That was before I knew how much you were going to get on my nerves,” he muttered, but knew it would be useless to argue.
“The code on the hatch. What does it mean?” She was obviously trying to distract him and keep him talking.
Now that the road had evened out and he wasn’t being jostled into unconsciousness, he attempted to clear his brain of pain and cobwebs. “You mean the numbers?”
“Yeah.”
“March thirteenth.”
Witness in the Dark Page 13