He reached forward to hug me. It was brief, but the way his chest hitched and his fingers rubbed my back tore me apart.
How would I ever resolve this mess? Would I love Sky forever? I had a feeling he’d never stop loving me. But I couldn’t—wouldn’t—hurt Quinn anymore.
Quinn stepped forward and gripped Sky’s shoulder. “I heard you saved my woman, Sky. Thank you.”
My woman?
Sky shrugged. “It was no big deal. I should never have let her come after Ginny with me. But I couldn’t leave her in the van with the weather coming in, either. Felt like she’d probably be safer on the trail.”
I grabbed and pressed his fingers, but released them just as quickly when they started to curl around mine. “It was the right decision. There’s no way I would’ve survived in that van. The gas would’ve run out in a few hours. And nobody could see me from the road, even if anyone was harebrained enough to be out in the storm.”
“She was going down fast, couldn’t walk anymore. I carried her to a cave by the falls,” Sky said woodenly. “Got a fire going. That was the difference between freezing and staying alive.” His eyes slid away from mine, and for a minute I thought he was actually ashamed of what had happened. Or what had almost happened.
So was I.
“You guys are both heroes,” I said, grabbing their hands. “Quinn carried that poor young thing up the slippery hill out there. I don’t think Callie and I could have done it alone.”
“Callie? Is she okay?” Sky said, as if he hadn’t realized she’d been involved. I realized that with no cell signals in our area he wouldn’t have had the chance to talk with Callie or Copper all day.
“Absolutely. She’s with Copper. She and I thought the girl was dead. Then she coughed, and…” I finished the story with short bursts of fast narrative, my nerves ping-ponging through my body.
Sky listened. Quinn watched Sky. And I shook like a leaf; worried that Quinn would sense what had happened in the cave.
I still couldn’t believe I’d thrown myself at Sky like that. My God, I’d even reached inside his pants and…
I shook myself and smiled at them. “How about some peppermint tea?”
They both nodded.
I clapped my hands together. “Okay. Well, you guys just relax and I’ll see to it.”
I couldn’t get away from them fast enough. Although Quinn made the pretense of civility and was clearly grateful to Sky for saving my life, he watched us carefully. I sensed his dark eyes taking in every nuance, every glance, every hesitation.
Sky, on the other hand, seemed uncomfortable and almost morose.
I wished I could join some kind of cult where a gal could marry two men.
With a mental shrug, I bustled about the kitchen. “Quinn and I missed lunch and dinner, Sky. Are you hungry? I think I’ll throw some sandwiches together.”
“Sounds good,” he said, eyeing the cold wood stove. “And maybe we should bring in more firewood. I’ll go for it.”
As if he couldn’t stand the tension anymore, he quickly ducked out the back.
Quinn came up behind me, arms snaking around my waist. I turned to face him, and he studied my eyes.
“He’ll never stop loving you, Marcella. Did you see the way he looked at you?”
I blanched. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? It’s not your fault, babe. And anyway, who can blame him?”
I studied his strong face, wanting to tell him what happened, but too exhausted to face the fallout. “I know. We just have to be kind to him. He’s such a good man.”
Quinn turned toward the back door, watching for his return. “I know. He’s a damn good man.” He kissed me deeply, then released me. “I’m going to help him with the wood. Back in a flash.”
Chapter 28
It started to snow again. Hard. And by the time I had the tuna sandwiches on and carried them to the table, the view outside was pure white. The wind howled like a desperate, injured wild animal, making me shiver and go for my heavier sweatshirt.
Quinn and Sky worked on the fire side by side, almost like young scouts trying to earn their merit badges.
Oh, God. There was that image again of Sky making the Boy Scout sign.
In that damned cave.
Where I’d practically attacked him.
I shoved the mental image down and opened a bag of Fritos. “Want chips, men?”
Sky nodded and Quinn agreed. “Sure, babe.”
“Want some milk to drink, too? I know we have tea, but…”
Again, they both said yes, thanks, as if I’d offered them some kind of nectar of the gods.
I glanced at them while I poured the milk. They ate their sandwiches with gusto. Of course, they both looked like Greek gods, and there was no way around it. Tonight I’d be swimming in a pool teeming with testosterone. Or something like that, because there was no way Sky was driving out of here in the blizzard.
An hour later, I made final cups of tea, finished washing the dishes, and proposed a game of Scrabble. Quinn got the board out and Sky stoked the fire. We laid out the letter trays on the dining room table near the stove. I shook the velvet bag to mix up the letters. “Go ahead, Sky. You pick first.”
He dug into the bag and brandished his letter. “B,” he said.
Quinn nodded in approval. “Good one. You’ll probably go first.”
I held the bag out to Quinn. “Go ahead, honey.”
Quinn reached inside, stirred the tiles with his long fingers, and pulled out his trophy. With one eyebrow in the air, he pronounced, “Oh, weird. I’ve got a B, too.”
I looked from Sky to Quinn, pulling my own tile out of the bag. “X.”
Quinn shot me a half-smile. “You’ve gotta choose then, Marcella. Pick between us. Who goes first?”
I sat glued to the chair, looking between them. What had my life come down to, when even playing a simple game I froze trying to choose between them. I was ridiculously aware of the appalling parallel. “I can’t pick. Go again.” I held up the bag.
Sky put up a hand. “That’s silly. Quinn can go first.”
Quinn disagreed. “No. You’re the guest. You go first.”
I shook the bag and laughed. “Okay, this is crazy. I’ll go first. We’ll go counterclockwise. Me, Sky, Quinn. Now pick your seven letters.”
We’d been at it for about forty-five minutes, and I was staring in disbelief at all the horrible letters on my tray, when the phone rang. I jumped up, glad for an excuse to get out of my turn. “Go ahead, guys, just skip me.”
I picked up the portable handset. “Hello?”
“Marcella, it’s Gordon McCann.”
I sighed, hoping it wasn’t more bad news. “Hi, Gordon. Tell me something good, like you caught the guy.”
McCann sounded tinny, as if he were on his speakerphone, maybe in the car. “I’m just coming back from the hospital. Wanted to call you before I lost my signal again.”
“How’s Becky, Gordon?”
“She’s gonna be okay. She’s traumatized, for sure. But she’ll pull through. She’s a fighter.”
“Did you speak with her?”
A loud hiss invaded the air between us, but I made out his words by straining into the phone. “Yes, we did. You won’t believe—”
“Gordon? What did she tell you?”
“Damn, it’s really bad out here. I don’t know if I’ll make it back to town. Looks like another accident up ahead.”
“Gordon? What did she tell you?”
He came back on, and even though the signal was weak, I got the gist of his report. As soon as the doctors checked her out and treated her, she reported for the past few days she’d been in a cabin in the woods with three other girls. Ginny, Aria, and a girl from her class named Annie, one of the known missing girls.
“Marcella? Can you hear me?”
“Just barely.”
“Listen. Becky said there are two men, as we suspected. One is our Valentino, of course. She thinks he’s the one who kills
the girls when he gets bored with them. But the other guy is someone older. More reserved. Said he looked like a rich guy, whatever that means.”
“How strange.”
“That’s not the really strange part. She said Ginny knows this guy, freaked out when she saw him, and couldn’t stop swearing at him until they gagged her. She knows him very well, Becky said.”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah. She not only knows him, she hates his guts.”
“Can’t say as I blame her, since he swiped her kid,” I said. But McCann was gone.
The phone rang just as I was replacing the handset. “Gordon?”
“No, Marcie. It’s Copper. I’m calling to see if Sky’s there.”
“He is. He’s gonna stay over. It’s coming down so fast out here, we can’t even see outside.”
“Okay, good. Listen, they’re closing Route 30 from Speculator to Northville. You’re gonna be trapped there for a day at least. Maybe two. I want you to be careful, hon.”
“Why? Because of the storm?”
“Well, yeah. But mostly because we found Valentino’s truck. It broke down not far from you, just south on Route 30. He deserted it and might’ve gotten a ride from someone, or…maybe he disappeared into the woods.”
“You sure it was his vehicle?”
“Yeah. It’s registered to a Marcus Lowry, no doubt about it.”
“Oh, crap.” I looked at the men, who stared back at me with curiosity. I didn’t know what else to say. “Thanks, Copper.”
“You be careful. Tell Sky to arm himself. Just in case.”
“I will.” My voice faltered when we hung up and I sat back at the table in front of my letter tray. “Uh, guys?”
They looked at me with expectant glances.
Sky said, “Was that Copper?
Quinn asked, “Something wrong, babe?”
I laced my fingers in front of me, as if I were a nice little virtuous schoolmarm from Little House on the Prairie. I wanted to imagine myself far from there, and the plains and previous century sounded pretty good right now.
I took a deep breath. “Yes, it was Copper. And, yes again, there’s plenty wrong.” I filled them in on the news.
Chapter 29
At first I’d been horrified that I’d be enclosed with both Quinn and Sky in a small cabin for days. But then I realized I had two strong, army-trained men to protect me from a sick serial killer who could be lurking outside, and I relaxed. I thanked God they were both with me.
Sky brought in the artillery he kept in the back compartment of his Highlander, and he and Quinn went through the weapons, cleaning them and discussing their attributes. I watched from the couch, where I nervously played solitaire, over and over again. I kept putting the wrong cards on top of each other, and it goofed up the whole sequence. I couldn’t concentrate and I stood to pace back and forth from the living room to the kitchen.
“Guys?” I yawned, tiring of their obsession with the guns. “I’m pooped. But I’m afraid to go to sleep.”
They looked up as if they’d forgotten I was in the room.
Quinn said, “Huh?”
Sky said, “What?”
I crossed my arms and scowled. “I said, I’m afraid to go to sleep. What if he breaks in while we’re sleeping?”
Sky stood and stretched. “We’re going to take turns keeping watch. You don’t have to worry.”
Sure. Nothing at all to worry about. I would only feel safe if I could curl up in the closet upstairs with both Sky and Quinn guarding my door with their big guns.
I chuckled at the picture my mind suddenly imagined. I was seriously flawed, and sick. Sometimes I think I’m going down the slipperiest slope there is, and there’s no help for me, no stopping me. I pushed aside the crude thoughts.
I stretched and yawned again. “Okay, then. I’m, er…I’m turning in.”
Dak followed me into the room and leapt onto the foot of the bed, circling a few times until he found a spot he liked. He dug at the quilt until I scolded him, then lay down and put his head on his paws.
“You’ll keep me safe, won’t you, sweetie?”
He flapped his tail and I swear, he smiled.
I hugged him, ruffled his ears, and pulled the curtains closed. They were sheer, with little violet flowers on them. I looked around for something darker. I grabbed the spare blanket we kept on the bureau and slung it over the curtain rod, careful not to pull the screws out of the wall.
“There. Now no one can look in to see me while I sleep.”
Dak uttered a soft, “Ruff.”
I slid out of my jeans, pulled off my shirt, and hurried into my flannel nightgown, yellow with pink flowers. I kept my socks on, and drew on a big comfy sweater. I knew it would become freezing in the bedroom if I closed the door, but I also knew I’d never sleep with it open. I closed it.
Quickly, I climbed under the eiderdown comforter and then drew the patchwork quilt up high over that, moving Dak over so it would slide beneath him. He resettled on the quilt and chuffed.
“Sorry, honey. You’re okay now. Just go to sleep.”
I snuggled into my two favorite feather pillows, punching them around until they were just right. I’d finished my M. Kim Smith mystery and wanted to continue reading. I needed it to settle down, to relax. Another favorite author I’d loaded into my Kindle was Deborah Ledford, whose Inola Walela suspense series had hooked me from the beginning. I loved the aspect of the main character’s Native American heritage and thought maybe I’d gain more insight into my own half-Seneca husband by reading about Inola. I tapped open Crescendo—Ledford’s newest release—and began page one.
I started to relax after a few pages, immersed in another world. As good as the book was, I couldn’t help falling asleep.
My dreams were wild. I kept waking to envisioned horrors, and when Sky came into my room in the middle of the night, I felt a surge of safety rush through me.
He stood in the doorway, his shaggy hair limned on his broad shoulders, his green eyes almost aglow. “Marcella.” His voice rumbled, deep and full of need.
In the back of my mind, I wondered where Quinn was, but somehow it didn’t seem real and I didn’t think he’d mind.
He approached, leaving the door open. I saw the flicker of the woodstove on the walls behind him, heard it pinging the tune from Love Boat. He came closer, and with one hand, stripped the comforter and quilt from my body.
In seconds he was on me, his mouth crushing mine, greedily seeking me. His hands roamed my body like they had when we were young lovers, and before I could say a word, he’d pulled me atop him.
I didn’t remember losing my nightgown, but suddenly I was naked and astride him, remembering the way he’d taken me in years past, savoring the fullness of our joining, the absolute, impossible size of him.
Dak had disappeared, but in the doorway, Quinn watched. Instead of blowing apart and killing Sky as I feared, he slid into the room, and I noticed he also had no clothes on. I savored the look of him, the native, dark-skinned, beautifully muscled body and his burning turquoise eyes. From behind, he brought his gentle hands to my breasts, kneading them until I groaned in pleasure. He turned my head sideways and reached for my mouth, claiming my lips with his own. I felt his need grow behind me, bumping me with urgency. I reached for him, touching his smooth hardness, and felt the growing, familiar, aching desire he always drew from me.
Both men whispered my name. Both wanted me. I wanted them both, wished I could take them both at once, but knew I had to share myself between them. There was no sense of shame or wrongfulness tonight, just love and need and the urgent rhythm of wanting.
When I woke, it was to a cold breeze coming from the window.
Quinn lay beside me, curled toward the living room. I touched him to be sure he was real.
He stirred.
Shame flooded me. How could I dream about such betrayal?
When I looked to see why cold air poured over us, I saw the face of my nightmar
es. But this was real. No dream. This was awake.
The Valentino Killer held the blanket aside and smiled at me from the window. “Hi, beautiful. Got room for one more?”
Chapter 30
I screamed.
Dak erupted into vicious barking on the bed beneath the window, but Valentino leaned inside and lassoed him with a rope, quickly fastening it to the foot of the bed frame.
How had he moved so quickly? Was he real? Or was he some sort of demon?
The man rolled through the window onto the bed and wrapped his arm around my throat. He held a knife in place, pressing it tight to my skin.
Quinn—always slow to wake—had barely opened his eyes when I screamed again. This time it was because of the prick of sharp metal on my neck.
“Quinn!” I dared not struggle. “Sky!”
Valentino pulled me tighter, whispering in my ear. “That’s it, sweetcakes. Make them worry about you. I want them scared. I want their pulse to race. And I will enjoy the look on their faces when they watch me take you.” He cackled. He actually cackled. It was soft, and slick, and nasty sounding.
Raw fear rippled through me. Take me? Did he mean rape me? Or did he mean take me to the bottom of the cliff and kill me?
Or both?
Dak continued to bark, and I was almost more afraid for him than for us.
“It’s okay, Dak. Quiet now.” In spite of the fact that my neck was held in a vice, I reached out to pat my dog, afraid he’d tick off Valentino and get killed for his bravado. He calmed a little, but growled just the same. I loved him fiercely for his bravery.
Good dog, I thought. Good boy.
Sky burst through the doorway with his rifle pointed at Valentino. “Marcella.” The words rushed from his lips.
Quinn held up a hand to stop him from coming closer. His voice choked with emotion, and the words came out slowly and distinctly. “Stop. He’s got a knife at her throat.”
Valentino’s lips spread in a wide grin. “That’s right, boys. If you want your pretty lady with her head attached, you’d best listen to me.” He maneuvered us off the bed and motioned with his head toward the living room. “Come on. In there.”
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