The Southern Comfort Series Box Set

by Clark O'Neill, Lisa

  Where she promptly started sliding, rolling like a log straight toward the bottom.

  “No!” Sadie grabbed the wet metal seams, seeking purchase with frantic fingers. But the roof retained all the tactile qualities of an eel and all she managed to do was shred her skin. Blood mixed with the running water to form pink rivulets in the current.

  She stopped the slide toward a bone-breaking fall by slamming into one of the overhanging branches with her left shoulder. Reaching out desperately, she managed to grab it and hang on.

  Just as the beam from the flashlight shone dead on her face.

  Instinctively flinching to shield her eyes, Sadie realized it was the old rock and hard place. Her presence had been discovered, she hung from a tree branch over fifteen feet of air, and it was either let herself drop or wait there for the intruder to come out and find her. Her butt cheek burned, her shoulder ached, and it wasn’t quite clear what lie beneath her. The ground loomed dark and threatening, but the light shining from the upstairs window was even worse.

  She let go of the oak and fell with a thud onto the unforgiving ground.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned, resisting the urge to just lay there and weep. She felt like she’d jarred every joint in her body until there was no cartilage left between them. Her poor left shoulder shot sparks of white hot agony that conflicted with the shocking cold of rain-wet skin. Pine straw scratched her cheek, poking threateningly toward her eyes.

  But she couldn’t just lie there, waiting for the burglar/rapist/murderer to happen upon her, so she struggled to legs that had turned to mush from shock, limping quickly toward the front of the house.

  If she could just make it to her car…

  Which was in the shop, courtesy of a bad starter.

  “Shit.”

  Sadie changed direction and started heading toward Declan’s. Screw the cup of sugar; she hoped he had a gun. Lightning sizzled, thunder boomed, rain pounded through the trees that crouched over her. She’d made it halfway through the back yard when Sadie heard the screen door slam behind her, and turned to see a dark shape come barreling off the porch.

  Freezing in terror, the proverbial deer in the headlight, it took a huge clap of thunder to bring her to her senses. Screaming, flailing, slipping in soil turned to mud, Sadie took off on the familiar path to the Murphy’s. It was dark as a crypt, but she could make that particular trek in her sleep. Whoever was behind her clearly had no problem with the circumstances either, because he seemed to be gaining on her by the second. Hearing his footsteps slapping at the wet ground behind her, she put on a burst of speed. When she turned to gauge his proximity – the kind of instinct you just couldn’t resist – she slammed into something solid.

  The damned privacy fence.

  Reeling from the force of the impact against her body, Sadie fell backward on a pain-filled groan. But she quickly scrambled to all fours, shook her head like a wet dog in order to clear it, and lurched to her feet through a will born of terror. Looking up, she saw his shape, huge and dark as he made his way unerringly toward her. To her left lay the storm-battered marsh, full of stinky mud that would suck at her like quicksand should she venture into it. To her right lay the road, the edge of the privacy fence, and safety.

  Straight ahead lay the burglar/murderer/rapist.

  Sadie turned to her right and ran.

  Screaming like the hounds of Hell were upon her, she forced her battered body to haul ass. She managed to put several yards between herself and her pursuer when she saw another shape lunge out from the shadows near the front porch.

  Shit. The second intruder.

  Without the least bit of hesitation, Sadie launched herself toward the fence.

  Grasping the top with bloody fingers, knowing that the rough wood was digging into her torn flesh but currently incapable of feeling the pain, she used every bit of adrenaline-fueled strength she had left to heave herself up and over. Her head and shoulders went first, her left leg closely following, and just when she thought she was home free an enormous hand grasped her right foot.

  Howling, crying, feeling those beefy fingers biting into her flesh, Sadie kicked as best as she could manage from her awkward position hanging upside down. Another hand joined the first on her ankle, and she twisted maniacally like a human windsock. Managing to loosen the man’s grip with her crazy wriggling, given the fact that her skin was impossibly wet, Sadie watched in horror-filled fascination as her untied shoe slipped off in his hand.

  She hit the ground with another bone-jarring thud, and started screaming Declan’s name.

  CHAPTER TEN

  DECLAN stilled, towel held against the hair which had gotten soaked as he’d left work. Thunder rocked the house, the storm’s raucous calling card, and the wind whistled eerily outside. But he could have sworn he heard a high-pitched squeal that sounded suspiciously like his name.

  He cocked his head, heard nothing.

  “You’re losing it, Murphy,” he admonished himself, going back after his tangled locks with the towel. His mood had vacillated wildly between low-level anger and an annoying sense of melancholia all day, and now he was hearing voices. Super. Maybe he’d finally gone off the deep end and could look forward to a padded room. It might explain why he’d felt so damn out of control in the past few days, so… shaken from his foundation. Like the pilings beneath him had finally succumbed to rot.

  But then they’d been eroding for the past decade and a half, so he figured it was about time.

  Except that the sudden pounding on his front door wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

  Dec dropped the towel from his hand until it draped around his shoulders, and turned his head with disbelief. Sadie’s car hadn’t been in the driveway when he’d passed, and no lights shone from her house – he’d been pissed off with himself for wondering where exactly she’d been, this late at night. But he couldn’t imagine who else would be banging on his door in the middle of a raging thunderstorm.

  Had that been her voice calling out to him?

  Seriously, what the hell was she thinking? He couldn’t possibly have made it any plainer to her that he did not want to be bothered.

  Because she bothered him a hell of a lot.

  So when the doorbell began ringing and the pounding started up again, he threw his towel to the floor in irritation. Having Sadie Rose living next door again must be part of the penance he’d been waiting years to pay.

  He stalked down the stairs, threw open the door.

  Felt his world shatter into pieces, again, right there at his feet.

  “Sadie? What the hell?” She was soaked and muddy and shaking. And before he had time to note anything else, she was climbing up his torso like he was a tree. Her little body pulsed with shivering tremors, her heart battered against his chest like a frightened bird, and her sodden hair dripped down his back in an icy-cold shower. He clutched at her involuntarily, staggered from the unexpected tackle, and when he shifted his hands to get a better grip, brought them away bloody.

  His heart clenched and his breath backed up, only to come out in an explosive rush. “What the hell have you done to yourself?”

  “Sh-shut the door. Shut the door!” Her words broke on a torrent of sobbing as her arms wound even tighter about his neck. But even through the deprivation of oxygen he could hear the fear throbbing in her voice.

  “Shh. Okay, honey.” He crossed to the door and closed it. Had she gotten so freaked out by the storm that she’d run over here and somehow hurt herself? Which didn’t make a bit of sense. The Sadie Rose he knew hadn’t been given to female hysterics, unless it involved face to face time with serpents. Whatever had shaken her so badly had to be more significant than wind and rain. “What’s going on, Sadie?”

  Her body trembled, and she gulped for air, lips chilled where they touched his neck. “S-someone’s in the house. A man. Two. Two men. They ch-ch-chased me.”

  What breath he had left evaporated. “What?” The awful tone seemed perfectly suited
to the information. The fear rolling off of Sadie was palpable enough that he didn’t doubt her words for a moment. And it made his blood boil so fast that a red mist settled before his eyes.

  Somebody had scared her, damn it. Somebody had caused her to bleed.

  His furious gaze strayed to the door and he quickly turned the lock. Then shifting his grip on Sadie, he punched the panic button on the alarm. An ear-piercing wail sounded, designed to warn off intruders, followed by a mechanical voice proclaiming that the police had been alerted. They should be there within minutes.

  Striding inexorably toward the hall closet, he grabbed his Springfield 45. He had visions of heading out into the storm and blowing a couple of assholes away, but his first priority was making sure that Sadie Rose was okay. Checking that a round was chambered, he avoided the windows and moved toward the relative shelter of the stairs, where he encouraged Sadie to sit on his lap and loosen her stranglehold on his neck. “It’s okay, honey. I have you.”

  He cooed more nonsense into her icy cold ear, stroking her wet back to calm the racking shudders. His own skin seemed to burn off the damp from the very heat of his wrath.

  After surreptitiously gauging the severity of the wound on her bottom – it appeared to be no worse than a deep scratch – he listened for the sound of sirens amidst the cry of wind lashing at the house. If those bastards had done more than frighten her, he wanted to know it before the police arrived.

  “Sadie, I want you to tell me exactly what happened.”

  Declan grimaced at the angry snap in his voice. The last thing she needed right now was to be barked at like a recalcitrant pet. Her heartbeat had slowed considerably, but she was still trembling violently beneath his hands. He wrapped both arms around her, attempting to warm her with his heat. She finally stilled enough that she could talk without stuttering.

  “I was cleaning the bathroom when the storm hit.” Her voice was so small and desolate it made him ache. “The lights went out and I thought it was probably a breaker, but then I heard something downstairs. I realized someone was in the house and so I… hid.”

  “Where?” Please, not under the bed. He’d found her there so many times when they were kids that surely she’d learned that lesson.

  “Inside the bathroom cabinet. I’d just cleaned it out and –”

  “Did you say inside the bathroom cabinet?”

  “Yes,” she said more aggressively, sitting a little straighter in his lap. “And if you say anything about my growth and development I’ll be happy to remove you of the burden of your fat head.”

  Declan had to bite back a smile. If she was comfortable enough to snarl at him, she must finally be feeling safe.

  “Apologies.” He squeezed her gently. “Do go on.”

  Sadie sniffed and wiped at her tear-stained cheek with her fingers. But when he saw the bloody streak they left behind his new sense of wellbeing went right out the window. “What the hell,” he breathed furiously, “happened to your hands?”

  Sadie looked down at the hand he’d just grabbed. When she noticed the raw skin and the oozing blood, she went an alarmingly whiter shade of pale. “I cut them when I was sliding off the roof.”

  And Dec’s carefully heeled temper nearly exploded into orbit. She’d slid off the damn roof? She was lucky her fool neck hadn’t been broken.

  And because that thought hit so painfully close to home, his grip on her tightened involuntarily.

  “But they don’t hurt, really.” Her voice went back to shaky, even as she tried to comfort him. “I mean I couldn’t even feel it when I climbed over the privacy fence, even though I knew I should be feeling something, but… it’s not bad.” And the look she gave him was desperate. “It must not be that bad, right? Because I really can’t feel the pain.”

  More likely she was in shock. He wrapped her up even tighter and thought of the whiskey in the kitchen cabinet as he listened for approaching sirens. Where the hell were the stupid police?

  Maybe he should grab a blanket and give her that whiskey.

  Maybe he should just load her into his car and drive her to the hospital himself, to hell with this waiting around.

  Then something she said finally penetrated. “You climbed over the privacy fence?”

  Sadie glanced up from her mangled fingers. “I had to. The s-s-second guy came around front and the one in back had me cornered. He grabbed my ankle as I was going over, but luckily my shoe was untied.”

  Guilt settled with an all too familiar weight. To hell with this, and to hell with the police and to hell with his own culpability.

  He glanced toward the door. Whoever had chased Sadie had probably taken off when he’d tripped the alarm.

  “Come on,” he said suddenly, the sight of her bare foot making him feel sick to his stomach. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  He’d make damn sure she didn’t feel any pain.

  SADIE studied the gauze swaddling her hands as Declan drove them home from the hospital, the intermittent swish of the windshield wipers the only sound penetrating the silence. The last few hours had been a blur of adrenaline that left her alternately confused, terrified, shaken and exhausted. Declan had turned into a rampaging lunatic, yelling at the cops who’d finally shown up at the ER to get her statement and raking the poor hospital staff over the coals when she’d had to wait before getting treated. He’d even threatened one of the nurses when she copped an unsympathetic attitude, saying that Sadie’s injuries didn’t look “all that bad.”

  Sadie was trying not to love him for that.

  Of course it helped that he’d turned sullen and uncommunicative again on the brief ride home from the hospital. And when they pulled onto their street and she caught a glimpse of her grandmother’s cottage, Declan Murphy became the least of her worries. Her stomach did a nervous hula when she realized she was going to have to sleep there tonight.

  For what was left of the night, anyway.

  She wished she’d thought to ask Dec to drop her off at a hotel. Now she looked at the metal roof and pictured herself dangling from it like a wind chime, those horrible men running her to ground as if she were some kind of cornered rabbit. The awful memories were vivid enough to make her tremble.

  “Stop the car. Stop, stop, stop. I can’t –”

  But Declan bypassed her house and pulled into his driveway, blithely ignoring her ramblings as he parked in the detached garage. Coming around to the passenger side without one word of comment, he scooped her up and headed for the back door before her head cleared enough to protest.

  “What are you doing?” Okay, so the painkiller they’d given her might be making her a little slow.

  “Just shut up, would you, Sadie?”

  Well, she saw no cause for him to be rude. “Excuse me,” she pointed out as he banged into the kitchen, using a well-placed elbow to set the alarm. “But I’d like to remind you that I’ve just experienced a trauma. Bad guys trying to kill me, practically dislocating my shoulder, stitches in my hands.” She waved one of the Q-tip like appendages in his vicinity. “Any of this ringing a bell?”

  His jaw set, but he otherwise ignored her. He just carried her right up the stairs.

  “Look, Declan, I appreciate all your help tonight, but –”

  “Shut. Up.”

  That was it. Now he’d riled her temper. “Don’t you tell me to shut up, Declan Murphy. I’ll have you know that just because you –”

  A firm set of lips slapped over her mouth, effectively muzzling her outburst, and Sadie was too shocked to do much more than lay there limply against his chest. Not to mention the fact that she was drugged. Which was the real reason all her bones went liquid.

  And her tongue just sort of… slipped. Which happened when you were drugged. So if hers fell out of her mouth and into Declan’s, she didn’t see how that was really her fault.

  And that little sound she made?

  Definitely the painkiller talking.

  Because it was inconceivable that Dec
lan Murphy would kiss her, and she’d go into meltdown, for heaven’s sake. Because he’d tried to kiss her plenty of times when they were growing up and it had definitely been pretty gross.

  Of course, back then he hadn’t had the goatee.

  Or all the… you know. Muscles.

  Or whatever hard appendage was currently pressing against her bottom. Well he’d had it, but she didn’t think it had been hard. At least not so that she’d noticed.

  But wait, maybe that was his pistol. He’d stuck it in that little hip holster when he was getting out of the car. She squirmed a bit to test the theory.

  Oh yeah. She was pretty sure that was Declan.

  A soft mattress pressed against her back and Sadie suffered a moment of confusion. The guest bed, she thought, but then Declan’s tongue was back in her mouth, moving right in like he owned it, not tentative or polite or neighborly at all. Which was typical.

  But then he said “fuck,” breathed it really, and raw heat shot through Sadie, the chill of the fear she’d experienced that night burned out by simple lust.

  Not that anything about this was simple. After all, this was Declan.

  Declan, who’d certainly learned a thing or two about kissing in the intervening fifteen years.

  The warm press of his chest had her breasts tingling, the scrape of his goatee singed her skin, the fire of his hand sliding firmly up her hip made her shiver from the burn. He was hot. God, he was hot and rude and raw – everything Sadie needed, needed now. Helpless, she arched off the bed, wrapping her arms around his neck to drag him closer.

  His lips cruised to the hollow of her throat, sliding back so that the whimper vibrating there was caught between his teeth. Sanity hanging by a thread – damn those drugs, anyway – Sadie dug her heels into the mattress. He shifted, raised a leg, and just like that, parted her thighs. When his hips pressed her down, one hand curving into the back of her jeans to pull her tight against him, the thread snapped. Rational thoughts spilled away like beads from a broken necklace.