by Jenna Jacob
“What is he—”
“Something’s wrong. Stay here,” Sawyer commanded.
Reaching down, he scooped his shirt off the floor and hastily pulled it on. She wasn’t going to stand there like a stump while Sawyer faced the lurking potential danger down below. After scooping up her bra, Brea hurried and retrieved her shirt, putting them both back on as if the house were on fire. Sawyer crept toward the door, his head cocked as if listening for signs of an intruder. When he reached for the knob, she bent in close to his ear.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No! Stay up here. Lock the door behind me and don’t leave this room until I come back for you. Got it?”
“No. I’m not a helpless little—”
Before she could finish her sentence, a thunderous explosion rocked the house. Like a mighty earthquake, the floor shook and creaked beneath their feet. The sound of breaking glass blended in an unholy cacophony of chaos so loud and unexpected that Brea screamed. Sawyer tucked an arm around her waist and rolled them both to the unforgiving floor. Ozzie’s frantic barks grew louder as he began clawing on the other side of the bedroom door. The blood-chilling sound of his claws gouging into the wood made her heart slam faster and harder against her ribs.
“What the hell happened?” she gasped.
“Gunshot.”
“Gunshot? That sounded more like a goddamn cannon.” Brea thrashed beneath his body, struggling to get up.
“What are you doing?” he growled. “Stay still.”
“I need to check on Ozzie. He might be hurt.”
“I’ll get him. You stay put. Don’t move,” Sawyer demanded as he stood.
“Why would anyone want to shoot at Barbara’s house?” Ignoring his order, Brea sat up.
Sawyer shook his head, clearly at a loss for words. When he opened the bedroom door, Ozzie came bounding in—hackles up and teeth bared. He looked downright chilling. She knelt, and the snarling dog rushed to her, sniffing her arms and face, as if taking inventory to see if his human was all right.
“Come back here, you dirty, no good, sum’bitch!” came a man’s bellow from the front yard.
“Oh, for fuck’s sakes,” Sawyer hissed as he stormed to the window and threw back the drapes.
“Get back here, you coward. I know I winged ’ya. Dagblast it. Now I gotta hunt you down to finish you off.”
Checking Ozzie over for injuries he might have sustained from the mêlée downstairs, Brea tipped a quizzical gaze up at Sawyer. “Who is that?”
He didn’t reply, simply jerked up the window and stuck his head out into the darkness. “Goddammit, Emmett.”
The crazy Bigfoot dude. Priceless.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sawyer scolded. “Trying to kill us?”
“Not you, Neville. I was trying to put Bigfoot down,” Emmett called out. “I caught the smelly, fuzzy bastard peeking in Barbara’s window down here.”
“He was looking in the window? Bigfoot or someone…like a man?”
“You know, you should be thanking me for saving your life and that new girl who’s staying here. Bigfoot could have had her as an appetizer…or worse, and you for dinner. Instead of asking a bunch of foolish questions, you should be thanking me.”
No longer in protect mode, Ozzie started licking Brea’s face and wagging his tail, until she pushed him away and stood. “Enough, brave boy. I’m fine.”
Moving alongside Sawyer, she peered out the window. Emmett stood in the middle of the yard, cradling a giant shotgun.
“So why didn’t you kill it?” Sawyer yelled, clearly pissed.
“I tried. That crafty, sum’bitch, turned tail and ran ’fore I could get off another shot.”
“One that would have finished taking down the house, no doubt,” Brea mumbled under her breath.
In the distance, a siren screamed. Ozzie whined and cocked his head. Brea stroked his ears, wanting to calm him.
“Sounds like Jasper’s on his way. Stay there. We’re on our way down, and whatever you do, don’t shoot.” Sawyer closed the window and sucked in a deep breath. “We’d better go see how much damage that crazy fucker’s done.”
“He needs to be committed to a mental hospital. That man is certifiably insane.” Brea slapped her hands on her hips with a huff.
But Sawyer managed to wipe away the lingering fragments of terror as his eyes raked a slow, wistful caress down her body. Regret lined his face.
“No argument there. The man definitely doesn’t have all his cornflakes in the box.”
As she watched Sawyer button his shirt, the consequence hammer came crashing down, hard, on Brea’s head. Obviously, her cornflakes weren’t all in the box either. She’d been minutes—okay, maybe an hour at the rate Sawyer had been moving—from spreading her legs and all but shoving his dick inside her body.
But he said he didn’t love you, and he liked living alone. You’re safe. Or so the same delusional brain cell that had convinced Brea to call Sawyer back wanted her to believe. She wasn’t feeling quite so gullible at the moment. More mortified.
If mentally unstable Emmett hadn’t tried to blow the house down, Brea would have succumbed to Sawyer’s charms. Like a kid in a candy store, she would have gorged herself on every inch of his big, hard cock.
Not only did she lack backbone to stick to her convictions, she had zero willpower to boot. She closed her eyes and swallowed a long, mournful groan. How many more times would she lay her heart out to be trampled and stomped before she stopped being so weak around men?
The feel of Sawyer’s fingers lightly skimming over her cheeks had her opening her eyes. A miniscule second later, his mouth thinned into a tight, angry line. So much for masking her emotions.
Shit!
“Don’t. We’ll talk this through after we deal with the aftermath of Emmett.”
That was one invitation she desperately wanted to decline. She’d much rather send Sawyer home…for good. But she held her tongue while the police siren shrieked outside, and red and blue strobes danced off the walls. Taking her hand, Sawyer led her downstairs.
The siren fell silent as she blinked at the carnage of what used to be Barbara’s living room. The plate glass window now had a gaping hole in the middle. Shards of glass, like jagged teeth, refracted prisms from the squad cars lights. They danced around the room like a seventies disco ball. Warm night air rushed inside while the curtains that framed the window softly billowed and swayed.
Fragments of glass littered the hardwoods in front of her, and to the right, along the wall that separated the living room and kitchen, were holes where buckshot had peppered the drywall.
“Oh, god,” she gasped. “Look at this mess.”
“Drop your shotgun, Emmett.” came a command from outside.
“Aw, for crying out loud, Jasper. You know I ’ain’t gonna shoot ya,” the crazy bastard drawled.
Praising him for his protection, Brea quickly sequestered Ozzie in the mudroom to keep him from cutting his paws. When she joined Sawyer in the living room, she found the men from outside had brought their party inside. Emmett wore his usual curmudgeon and sour expression. The officer, who she assumed was Jasper—a round, middle-aged man who looked to live off donuts—wore a slightly bored, dispassionate expression. Sawyer, on the other hand looked totally pissed off as the men inspected the damage.
The cop’s badge glimmered in the recessed lights overhead and brought an oily rush of déjà vu. She could still smell the stench of urine and stale sweat that surrounded her in that damn holding cell. Logically, Brea knew she’d likely never see that hellhole again, but it didn’t keep her anxiety from spiking or the bile from rolling up the back of her throat.
Staring at the cop, she sank to the couch, wrapped her arms around her middle, and tried to stave off a total freak out. Interrupting her view of the cop, Sawyer ate up the distance between them in three long strides. Kneeling down in front of her, his brows slashed in concern, he gently cupped her chin.
&
nbsp; “Don’t worry. I’ll have the house fixed up long before Barbara returns.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
Brea couldn’t mask the quiver in her voice or keep herself from glancing back at the cop. Sawyer followed her gaze, then shifted slightly and barred her view of everyone and everything except his face and wide shoulders.
“Why is Jasper upsetting you? Are you wanted for something?” Suspicion slathered his tone.
She shook her head and clenched her teeth. The guy she’d nearly banged ten minutes ago thought her a fugitive. A new kind of misery invaded her soul. While she’d climbed in bed with strangers who’d probably thought worse of her, Sawyer’s opinion mattered to Brea. She didn’t know why. Maybe some self-respect had been jarred loose inside that godforsaken holding cell. Or maybe foolishly rushing into so many meaningless relationships had finally made her wise up.
In reality, she didn’t know shit about Sawyer. Oh, she knew liked steak, beer, and bringing joy to sick kids. On the other hand, he also enjoyed kinky sex with three women at the same time…three skinny, gorgeous women. She couldn’t fault him for that, especially since she’d managed to carve a shit-ton of notches in her bedpost, too.
In many ways, they were amazingly similar. Maybe Sawyer used his body to connect with women the way she did with men. It would explain his desire to seduce her, but Brea ached for something more. But she knew she’d never find it in the mesmerizing stare of Sawyer Grayson. The man was as big a player as she. Or rather she used to be.
“I don’t believe you,” Sawyer softly whispered. “Jasper has you freaked out. Why were you in jail?”
Colton! You son of a bitch!
“What else did Colton—”
“He didn’t say anything, Brea. I heard you two talking about it when I was on my porch. Tell me what happened.”
“Nothing. I didn’t do anything, and I don’t want to talk about it.” She stiffened and dropped her gaze to her lap.
“There’s a whole lot you don’t want to talk about, but we’re going to…soon.”
“No. I-I need you to leave and—”
“Dagnabbit, Jasper. I told you it was Bigfoot!” Emmett stomped his foot. “You ’ain’t taking my gun. I gotta protect this town from that big, hairy ape.”
“That’s my job. And I am confiscating your gun.” Jasper pulled off his hat and ran a hand over his thinning salt-and-pepper hair. “Call me if Bigfoot comes back. I’ll shoot him for you.”
“He ain’t gonna wait around for you to decide to show up. He’s a slippery cuss,” Emmett argued. “He was bent over, yonder…peeking in the window. I seen him with my own two eyes.”
“Are you sure it was Bigfoot and not some peeping Tom?” Sawyer asked.
“Well…” Emmett pondered the question. “I’m not rightly sure.”
Brea’s pulse leapt. “Someone was looking in the window?”
“That might explain why Ozzie came unglued right before the gunshot,” Sawyer grimly stated.
A look of worry filled his face, sending a veil of fear to engulf her.
“Ain’t you been listenin’ to me? I done told ya that twice now, missy.” Emmett scowled. “You youngsters don’t pay attention these days. Y’all got your noses in your fancy computer tablets, cellular phones, and spend all your time taking selfless.”
“They’re called selfies,” Jasper corrected.
“I don’t care what they’re called,” Emmett huffed. “You all need to put your electronics away and open your eyes. There’s a big ol’ world out there.”
The old man raised a gnarled finger and pointed at Brea. “And you…you’d better be keeping the lights on and your doors locked up tight, little lady. Someone’s watching you. It might be Bigfoot or some twisted maniac wantin’ to defile you.”
“Emmett!” Sawyer barked. “That’s enough.”
But it was too late. The seeds had been sown. Panic sent her stomach pitching. Her mind filled with images of a faceless sicko raping, torturing, and murdering her. Tremors assaulted her body, and all Brea wanted to do was grab Ozzie and run back to Colton and Jade.
As if summoned by ESP, the couple barreled through the front door.
“Who got shot?” Jade’s eyes were wide with panic, her face pale with fear. The second she spied Brea, Jade raced to the couch and wrapped her in a tight hug. “Oh, thank god. I was so scared you were dead.”
“I’m fine,” Brea whispered as they both trembled. “No one’s dead or shot. But that crazy Bigfoot hunter guy blew the shit out of Barbara’s house.”
“Emmett…really?” Colton chided with a long, heavy sigh.
“Pfft. You’re all gonna be thanking me one day when I save your hides from that ugly beast.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jasper drawled. “Until then, you need to see that Barbara’s house is set right. Pay for the damage you’ve done, or she’s liable to shoot you herself.”
“I ain’t one to shirk my responsibilities. Don’t you go accusing me of such, neither. I ain’t never let no one pay my way. My momma taught me better than that.”
“Too bad she didn’t teach you common sense,” Jade mumbled so low that only Brea could hear.
“There ain’t nuthin’ wrong with my hearing, you little tart.” Emmett scowled at her.
“Did you just call my woman a tart, old man?” Colton bellowed. “I ought to kick—”
“Jasper! Get him out of here before we all lose our temper,” Sawyer ordered.
Colton sent a weak smile to Jade before kneeling alongside Sawyer. “Brea, sweetheart…are you all right?”
She didn’t respond, simply watched Jasper lead Emmett outside. Once the zany old fart was gone, she nodded. “I was until that lunatic started talking about peeping Toms and rapists.”
“Oh, sugar. Ignore him,” Jade lamented. “Emmett’s nuttier than a squirrel turd.”
Brea chortled. “It’s a little hard to do when he’s shooting the damn windows out.”
“I know…I know.” Jade patted the back of Brea’s hand.
“How did you two hear…?”
“Lucy called us. Her sister, Lottie… Wait. Let me start at the beginning. Francine, the town dispatcher, beautician, and florist got the nine-one-one from Maynard Pierce. He lives across the street from you.” Jade pointed toward the jagged window. “Anyway, after Maynard reported the gunshot, he called Jeff—”
“No, sweetheart, his name is Jed,” Colton corrected.
“Oh, right. Sorry. Anyway, Maynard called Jed, who is married to Lottie…who called Lucy…who called us since Lucy knew we were friends. So, we jumped in the truck and came back over to make sure you weren’t dead!”
Jade flopped against the back of the couch and took a deep breath.
Brea shook her head. “Wow. High-speed Internet is like dial-up compared to the way news travels in this town.”
“You have no idea!” Jade rolled her eyes. “At least a photo with you engaged in a torrid lip lock on Main Street hasn’t graced the front page of the newspaper.”
“Not yet.” Sawyer grinned and winked.
Brea turned a guarded gaze on him. The excitement tonight could easily make the front page, but she and Sawyer wouldn’t ever be gracing the news. Brea wasn’t letting the man near her pants, tits, or pussy again.
Her lusting days were over.
Finished.
Through.
Even if she had to bite the bullet and order a case of granny panties off the Internet, then find a convent that would take an overused virgin…she was done with men!
Sawyer wanted to lay Emmett out cold for interrupting what had been the start of a phenomenal night. Hopefully, if Colton and Jade left soon, he and Brea could pick up where they left off.
“You got any plywood we can use to board up that window?” Colton asked.
“Yeah. As a matter of fact, I do. In the garage.”
Colton kissed Jade softly. “We’ll be back in a few to take care of this mess. Why don’t you an
d Brea wait in the kitchen…fix yourselves some tea…or toss back a few shots.”
“No! Brea doesn’t get booze.” Jade blanched.
Colton cringed. “Right. Sorry, sugar.”
“I never did find out…why you don’t drink? Are you allergic to—”
Jade cut him off with a mischievous grin. “It makes her dance and lose her pants…literally lose her damn pants before she starts trying to fu—”
“Shut up!” Brea spat.
“Oh, really?” Sawyer chuckled. He’d file that tidbit of info away for later.
“We’ll clean up the glass while you guys get the wood.”
He grinned when Brea redirected the conversation. “No. You relax. You’ve been through enough for one night, darlin’.” Sawyer patted her knee before standing.
“I’ll do what I want,” she barked. “Stop bossing me around. You’ve been doing it since Emmett shot out the window. I don’t like it.”
“Fair enough.” He bit back a smile. It warmed his heart to see her feisty side return. It was a far better sight than the fear in her eyes when Jasper had arrived. “I wasn’t trying to school you, just keep you safe.”
He could tell she wanted to argue, but Jade stood and pulled Brea to her feet before the two headed toward the kitchen.
Outside, he’d no sooner stepped off the porch than Colton rounded on him and stopped Sawyer in his tracks.
“What’s this shit about a peeping Tom?”
“I don’t know. Emmett first started ranting about Bigfoot looking in the window, but when pressed, he admitted it might have been a man. Someone or something was out there for sure. Ozzie went apeshit before the window was shot out.”
“Was he in front of it, barking?”
“I don’t know.”
Colton’s eyes narrowed. “Where were you and Brea?”
“Upstairs.”
“In her bedroom?”
Sawyer hadn’t defended his integrity for nearly a decade. He certainly didn’t like doing it now. The disapproving expression and grilling tone of voice had him biting back a reminder that Colton wasn’t Brea’s father.