“But you were tied up.”
“Only until he brought me proof of her death and I could pay him. Shut up now and start climbing.”
I considered diving off the ladder, tucking and rolling out of his range. Even the idea made my ribs ache.
“Don’t even think about it.” He pushed the gun a few more inches in my direction. “I’ve had a whole year to practice. I’m really good. Better than I ever was at teaching math.”
“Why did you lose tenure at the college?” Certainly not because he was looking for Marcie.
“I was fired. That’s what happens when you date coeds and come to work after staying out all night.” His shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “I hated that job, anyway. I shouldn’t have had to work at all.”
“You mean if Marcie hadn’t taken your money.”
“If you don’t get up here in two seconds, I will shoot you.”
So I climbed up the rest of the ladder, but as slowly as I dared. His hand closed over my sore right wrist, yanking me the last few inches.
“Ow,” I said. The bandage on his own arm had a bright spot of red leaking through, but he didn’t seem fazed by the wound.
He stepped closer, his eyes hard. “If I’d had any idea one of the leaders here was a crook, I’d have bribed him a long time ago and you wouldn’t have been necessary.” He pushed me in the direction of the bales of hay where I knew Marcie was hidden. I felt sick. Had he already killed them? The bare wood of the nearly empty loft reminded me somehow of a huge coffin.
We rounded the bales, and I saw Harmony first, her body curled face down on the thin layer of hay on the floor. Blood oozed from the back of her head, dripping around to the front of her face and then pooling on the floor. But she was breathing.
Behind her Marcie was awake and half sitting, propped awkwardly up against a bale of hay. The ragged bundle of pretend baby was no longer in her arms. “Please, Ethan,” she said. “Why are you doing this? I left you everything. Wasn’t that enough?”
“You gave these people money.”
“That was mine and Rubin’s. I didn’t take the money that had belonged to your father.”
“I can’t get at it. Not unless you’re dead or you sign it over to me.”
“I’ll sign it over. I don’t want the money!”
“Sorry. You won’t be leaving here, dear sister.” He barked a strangled laugh. “And I’ve made sure the cult won’t collect on any contract you might have signed.”
He’d talked about the fire before, but only now did things click into place. “You started the fire?” I asked.
He smiled. “It’ll spread to all the buildings. They’re so close.”
I tried not to think about Tawnia. Surely she and Bret would get to safety.
“Please, Ethan,” Marcie begged. “I’ll do anything.”
“Even if I believed you, it’s too late.”
“It won’t work,” I said. “The others know I came here and why.”
“It’ll be my firsthand account against their conjectures.” Ethan nearly spat the words. “Because in the end, I’ll be honored for trying to find you, for trying to stop Harmony from killing you after you discovered that she had killed Marcie to protect her secret lover, Korin, from going to prison, not knowing that her estranged husband had already killed him.”
A gasp came from Harmony, who was turning over on the floor, wiping the blood from her eyes. “Is Gabe okay?”
“What does it matter?” Ethan jeered.
He’d obviously crossed over the line of sanity, perhaps never to return. He’d be discovered and go to jail, but that wouldn’t do any of us any good if we were dead.
With a grunt, Ethan pushed me toward the other women. I tripped over Harmony’s feet and fell to the floor with a force that made my ribs burn.
Ethan brought up the gun with a steady hand. His face was no longer handsome but contorted with greed and hatred. His fingers began to contract.
I dived forward and to the side, and the bullet slammed into the floor where I’d been. Harmony’s scream sounded like the grating of metal on wood. On hands and knees, I scrambled away, drenched in agony that emanated from my rib cage. I’d cleared the hay bales, which left Ethan behind me, but I didn’t see how I could make it to the ladder and down before he finished with the others and came after me. Darkness from the pain in my ribs was already beginning to fill my vision.
No, that was one of the doors at the end of the loft. The door now gaped halfway open, revealing the dark night outside. Gabe climbed through the gap, grabbing onto a bit of rope hanging from a winch to pull himself up the rest of the way. Almost before I registered his presence, he was hurtling toward me, rounding the bales of hay, and leaping at Ethan, who had the gun pointed at Harmony. Gabe still had handcuffs on both wrists, and dangling from one was a piece of broken chair.
The men struggled for the gun, falling down to the wooden floor with a loud crash. Over and over they rolled. I crawled toward them, wondering what I could do to help Gabe.
“No, Gabe,” Harmony moaned.
I pulled myself to my feet. One step, then another. What could I use against Ethan? Desperately, I searched, finding nothing but bales of hay that I couldn’t lift on a good day, much less in my weakened condition.
The gun went off. This time there was no sound of the bullet hitting the ground. I stood frozen, Harmony’s sobs the only sound in the sudden stillness.
Ethan climbed to his feet, leaving Gabe sprawled on the floor, hands over his chest, blood spreading under his fingers. Harmony crawled toward him. Ethan aimed again at Harmony’s head.
I hurled myself at him, my sight momentarily blanking with pain. He fell backward under my impact but didn’t lose his grip on the gun. His fingers latched onto my hair, forcing my head back. I felt the coldness of the gun barrel between us, digging into the soft flesh under my chin. He wrenched me off him onto the floor, the gun still against my throat. I couldn’t move for the fire in my chest. Couldn’t breathe. All my chances were gone.
A shot rang out. I closed my eyes and stopped breathing.
Ethan’s body went limp over me. I took another breath.
“Autumn?” Shannon’s voice, coming from the direction of the hayloft ladder. In seconds he was there, rolling Ethan off me. “Are you okay?” His voice was scarcely a whisper. Fingers pressed up against my throat as he checked for a pulse.
I forced my eyes open. His face was streaked with soot, and he smelled like fire. His eyes reminded me of the green-blue of the ocean on a cloudy day. I’d never been so happy to see anyone.
“A cloudy day, not a clear one,” I murmured. His face was moving, the features whirling together. I wondered if I was going to throw up.
“Is she hurt?” It was Jake’s anxious voice moving rapidly toward us.
I turned in his direction with a small cry. He was safe! He was here! He knelt next to Shannon, and after a few moments, my eyes managed to focus on his face. Like the detective, Jake had been fighting the fire, and his already dark face was blackened with soot. Worry lined his brow, the deep furrows broken by an oozing gash that would likely need stitches. No doubt he’d been playing hero at the burning house.
“Pulse is strong, but she’s incoherent,” Shannon said. “She might be in shock.” The space of a few heartbeats passed before Shannon arose, conceding his place to Jake. “Try to keep her warm.” Without a backward glance, he crossed to help Harmony staunch the flow of Gabe’s blood.
“Are you hurt?” Jake asked, kneeling over me. “Did he shoot you?” His fear was palpable.
I managed a tiny smile. “Do you mean Shannon or Ethan? Because I’m pretty sure they both fired at me tonight.”
Jake gave a disgusted grunt and began peeling back the leather jacket, searching for signs of injury. I groaned and slapped his hands away. “Nothing hurts too bad—except my ribs. Don’t touch them.”
He gathered me gingerly in his arms, the soot on his face running with tears and blo
od from his cut. For a long moment he simply held me. I wanted to look into his eyes, to see what secrets they might tell, but exhaustion took me. I closed my eyes and drifted for a moment. As long as I didn’t move or breathe too deeply, I could stay here forever.
“How did Gabe get away?” I asked finally, forcing my eyes open. It hurt worse than before to speak.
“Tawnia and Spring broke his chair and let him go after they sent Bret to find me. They were afraid they wouldn’t find me in time.”
“Gabe saved us.”
“We were still almost too late.”
“But you weren’t.” Or Shannon hadn’t been. I’d probably have to thank him someday.
He nodded and stroked my cheek with his finger.
Several yards away, Harmony’s sobs grew louder, becoming violent, choking sounds. “Oh, Gabe. No! You can’t die! Please, don’t leave me. Please!”
But he was already gone.
Still on his knees, Shannon set a hand on her shoulder as she wept over her husband. Nothing more, just that hand on her shoulder to let her know someone was there. I bit my bottom lip and clung to Jake for a long time until the first fingers of dawn began trickling through the hayloft door.
Life had changed irrevocably for all of us.
The next few hours were busy getting Marcie treated and onto the chopper, the bodies cleared away, and the last of the fire put out. Ethan had been wrong about the fire taking all of the compound. Under Scarlet’s competent direction, the residents of the farm managed to save the other two houses and were already planning to rebuild the one they’d lost.
Another chopper was coming, and this one would carry Tawnia, Bret, Jake, and me back to Portland, where I’d been ordered by Shannon to check into a hospital. Later a bus would arrive at the farm for anyone else who wanted to leave.
Tawnia had fixed me a breakfast of bacon and eggs and milk, and I’d made her happy by eating all of it, even though the eggs were slightly burned.
Spring appeared in the kitchen, sliding into the seat next to me. “I came to say goodbye.”
“Aren’t you going back to Portland?” I was reduced to whispering now, and deep bruises were appearing on my throat.
She shook her head. “I’ve decided to stay, at least for now. Harmony needs help, and with Victoria leaving, Scarlet could use someone in the kitchen.” She smiled and lowered her voice. “Besides, Harmony promised to pay an attorney to help me settle things with Jimmy.”
“You sure?”
She hesitated. “I can’t leave her. She’s lost so much, and no one really understands what she’s going through. Not really.”
I knew what she meant. Harmony’s soul had been entwined with that of her husband. Her terrible grief was etched on her face, aging it by ten years. Every trace of playfulness was gone. Even so, she had risen to the occasion, walking among her people, bestowing a touch, a kind word, letting them know the farm—their home—would go on for as long as they wanted.
“Harmony is renaming the place Harmony Farming Co-op,” Spring said. “They’ll need a nurse, and I’ve been thinking that as long as I can get my allergies under control, I might get some training and see what happens. I’m also going to talk to my mother. I’ll keep in touch, though.”
I blinked back tears. “You’d better.” We hugged, careful of my ribs. Little Jim, ever in his mother’s arms, gave my hair a parting yank.
As Spring left, Jake strode into the kitchen. He’d washed his face and his forehead had been bandaged. He needed a good shave, but he looked great. “The helicopter’s here.”
“Finally! I’ll go get Bret.” Tawnia disappeared into the hall.
“Do you want me to carry you?” Jake asked, helping me to my feet.
I’d been able to walk from the barn to the farm’s van, but my injuries had been fresher and less painful then. Now every inch of me throbbed with hurt. If Scarlet hadn’t wrapped a clean stretch of cloth around my chest, I would probably need a stretcher. “Might be a good idea.”
His arms went around me, careful but sure, and it was worth admitting to the weakness to enjoy his closeness. Without thinking, I brought my good hand up and rubbed it over the roughness of his jaw.
“Autumn?” His voice was tight.
“I don’t feel obligated,” I whispered.
“Well, I don’t feel anything for you that I feel for my sister.” He shook his head. “That came out wrong. I mean—”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
So he did.
Not long or with passion, which was good, because I was about ready to pass out. But I planned to demand better after I healed.
Meanwhile, I was going to ask Shannon about those taekwondo lessons. For next time. Somewhere out there more people needed my unique kind of help, and I was ready to begin.
NOTE FROM TEYLA BRANTON: Thank you for downloading this book and for spending a little time with me in my world! If you enjoyed Touch of Rain, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated. For your enjoyment, I have included in the next section the first chapter of On the Hunt, the second novel in the Imprints series. This sneak peek is follow by a bonus preview of The Change from my contemporary urban fantasy series. You can see all my books on the About the Author page, or sign up for new releases here. Thanks again!
THE END
Sneak Peek
Chapter 1
Psychometry. The word sounded like a method for measuring a person’s mind, not a scientific term for reading emotions mysteriously imprinted on random objects. I hadn’t even heard the word until I’d been reading imprints for months. In no way did the term reflect the vivid scenes or raw feelings that often left me dazed or confused.
Neither did it convey the lives I’d saved. Or those I hadn’t.
I hoped today’s imprints would be the saving kind.
My sister, Tawnia Winn, sat on the tall stool behind the long counter at my antiques shop, her swollen belly stretching all the way to the counter. With four weeks left of her pregnancy, I didn’t see how she could grow any larger and not be pregnant with twins, but the doctor had assured her there was only one baby.
“Sophie should be here any minute,” she said. “I called her before I left work, and she was already on her way.”
Traffic was often busy in the Hawthorne District of Portland, Oregon, especially on Fridays, and I knew Tawnia was worried about the possibility of Sophie not arriving before she had to return to work. Since I was the one who had to read the imprints, I wasn’t as anxious.
“What about naming the baby Lark?” I asked, leaning over to move an antique toy soldier closer to its opponent. For the safety of my younger customers, I carried only the plastic kind, not the lead figures. “Or maybe Saffron or Rose?”
Tawnia let out a long-suffering sigh. “How do you know it’s even going to be a girl?” She took a last bite of the sandwich she’d bought on her way to the shop. White bread, mayo, processed turkey with preservatives—I was proud of myself for not mentioning how bad it all was for her.
“How about Sky or Cyan? Those could be for either sex, I think,” I said. Tawnia wanted the baby’s gender to be a surprise, a decision that had both me and her husband, Bret, mad with curiosity. I planned to have the child in my shop a good portion of each day, and I wanted to know if I should focus on buying more soldiers or antique dolls, though when I thought about it, they were actually the same thing.
“I think we need something a little more traditional. You know how my parents are.” Tawnia looked like a model from an expectant mother’s magazine. Her dark brown hair had grown thick and long during the past months, and she had the means to buy the latest maternity wear. Her face was a little bloated, but the added roundness and a good base made her absolutely beautiful.
By contrast, when I looked in the mirror I saw a gaunt copy, a shadow twin, with freckle-blotched skin and chopped hair dyed red on the top, who looked decidedly on
the scroungy side in camouflage pants and a T-shirt.
Of course, the adventure that had landed me in the hospital three and a half weeks ago while rescuing two women from a cult masquerading as a commune hadn’t helped, but my broken rib was healing, my cuts were gone, and the bruises faded, except for the narrow green half moon across my left cheekbone. My right wrist gave me problems only when I carried something heavy.
Reading imprints had definitely made my life more interesting, if not exactly safe.
“Look,” Tawnia said, moving from behind the counter, one hand resting on her stomach in the agelong way of expectant women. “If it’s something really terrible, go easy on telling Sophie, okay? It’s hard enough with Dennis gone and having to take care of the children by herself. I don’t know how she’s going to handle bad news.”
She meant, of course, if Sophie’s husband had left of his own free will. “Either way, he’s missing,” I said. “It can’t be good.”
Tawnia frowned. “She’s such a sweet person, you know. I couldn’t ask for a better neighbor.”
Tawnia and Bret had built their new house in a cozy settlement of houses owned by couples who were in the same stage of life—married and having children. Sophie Briggs and Tawnia had taken to each other instantly, and though I really liked Sophie, I missed having Tawnia around as much. At least for now my sister still worked in town and we could have lunch together, so I could make sure she ate decent food for my niece or nephew. Tawnia was the only person I knew who consumed as much as I did, but she tended toward junk food while I was a health nut. It wasn’t really my fault—growing up with hippie parents who owned an herb shop had a tendency to do that to a child.
“How about Sunwood or Gypsy?” I asked, moving my bare feet into a patch of sunlight that came through the window. You’d think the shop would be warm in July, but I felt cold in anticipation of the imprints waiting on whatever Sophie was bringing for me to read.
Tawnia wrinkled her nose at the faint shadow of dirt on the tips of my toes, though they were as easy to wash as her hands, which touched far worse things in the course of a day. Doorknobs, for instance. “Sunwood? You’re joking, right?”
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