Shadows of Doubt

by Lynn Hagen

  Samson shot upward, pulling away from Eric, leaving Eric confused. His mate shook his head. “I’m too wound up. I have to ride your fat cock.”

  Eric wasn’t going to argue. He grabbed the lube, successfully this time, and lubed himself. “Ready for you.”

  “Good, ’cause I’m ready for you.” Samson straddled Eric’s waist and rose up on his knees as Eric grabbed the base of his cock and held it steady as Samson lowered his body.

  They groaned as Samson impaled himself, his fingers digging into Eric’s chest as he pulled up and then drove his ass back down. Eric held on to Samson’s hips as his mate bounced on his cock, and not even his twitchy hand was an afterthought. Not when Eric got lost in his mate’s body, in the way Samson was staring down at Eric as though he was the only person on the planet that could get him off.

  He was so hot for Samson that he felt the buildup quickly growing. Eric grabbed his mate and pulled him down until their chests touched, and then he sank his canines into Samson’s shoulder.

  As he strengthened their bond, Eric grabbed Samson’s hips and jetted into his hole as his mate screamed out his release. Eric felt Samson’s cum spread between their chest, smearing as Eric removed his canines, licked the wound closed, and hammered into Samson’s ass until he was rocked with his climax.

  Samson collapsed onto him, breathing heavily. “As much as I’d love to stay this way, things are getting cold and icky.”

  Eric chuckled. “Then maybe we need to take a shower.”

  He was all for that considering he hadn’t had one while at the clinic, and Eric needed to—his thoughts fled when he sniffed at the air. Mixed with the scent of their lovemaking was the smell of smoke.

  Chapter Ten

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Eric growled as he rolled from the bed, forgetting that Samson was just lying on top of him. Nothing could kill a drowsy I-just-had-sex-so-I’m-going-to-sleep heavy-lidded yawn like being tossed aside like a rag doll.

  At first Samson thought Eric’s abrupt jackknifing was because of some side effect he was experiencing from his accident. He’d seen Eric’s twitchy hand thing going on, and that worried him, but jumping to his feet had nothing to do with his hand.

  “What the ice cream sundae are you doing?” Okay, so Samson was a bit bitchy that his well-deserved nap had been interrupted. He liked using Eric as his body pillow. Of course his mate’s body wasn’t as soft as a body pillow, but falling asleep on top of muscles had been the second best thing.

  “You don’t smell that?” Eric went to his drawer and pulled out a pair of underwear before awkwardly sliding them on.

  Samson was half-tempted to help him, but by the time he got up from the bed, the underwear was already in place, shaping Eric’s ass nicely and showing off his manly package.

  “Smell what?” Samson’s clothes were in the living room. He didn’t have anything to grab, so he walked to the door still naked, with every intention of getting his clothes.

  Until he swung the door open and smoke filled the room. How had he not smelled that? Had Samson been that deep into his post-coital grogginess?

  Eric slammed the door closed. “Someone used an accelerant because no way the fire grew that big in seconds.”

  “You think someone set fire to your house?” Now panic had set in, and Samson spun in a circle, looking for something to put on. Screw thinking about saving his life. If he was about to die, he’d be damned if he was found naked. Even in death he wanted his dignity.

  He ran to the dresser and grabbed a pair of Eric’s boxer briefs. They would be too big, but they would have to do. In his panicked state, Samson couldn’t get coordinated enough to slide his legs into the material. He kept hopping around on one foot, cursing his feet for being uncooperative.

  “Someone had to set the fire. We didn’t cook anything before we came in here.”

  Samson thought of the ice cream. Ice cream wouldn’t combust and set the house on fire. As far as he could remember, the container was still on the kitchen floor, probably a goopy mess by now. “Mr. Lumberjack?”

  He finally got the underwear on but had to hold the side to keep them from falling down. Now he was left to do things one-handed. That was better than running around naked, though.

  “That would be my guess.” Eric whipped the cover off the bed and shoved it into the crack between the door and the floor.

  “Who in the fuck is this guy?” And what was his beef with Eric? This was twice now he’d attempted to kill the deputy, and Samson feared he would succeed this time. They were trapped in the bedroom with no way out.

  Samson started to hyperventilate. He wrung the side of the underwear until the material should’ve torn. He tried to focus, tried to think of what to do, but the stupid panic wouldn’t go away. He simply stood there taking deeper and deeper breaths until he felt like he would pass out at any second as the horror of the situation continued to sink in.

  They were gonna die.

  “Get over here.”

  When Samson didn’t move, because he couldn’t produce an intelligent thought, because now the smoke on the other side of the door had his life flashing before his eyes, Eric stomped over to him and grabbed Samson’s arm.

  He blinked at his mate, still unable to focus. They were gonna die. The smoke would break the door down like a villain hell-bent on killing them. It would swirl around their bodies and down to their lungs, choking the very breath from them as the fire neared, a taunting reminder of their doom as the smoke took them down.

  “Samson!” Eric shook him. “Snap out of it and get your ass in gear.”

  Eric dragged him to the window and then released him. He pulled the curtain aside and opened the window. The cool rush of air was enough to snap Samson out of his state of shock.

  Maybe they weren’t going to die after all. Maybe the gods would have mercy on them and let them live. The thought spurred Samson into action. He just wished he was fully clothed as Eric hoisted him up so he could clamber over the sill and jump from the window. It sounded way easier than it actually was. Samson didn’t descend to the ground with grace. He fell on his face, and a pain shot through his shoulder, reminding him he wasn’t a dove that could take flight.

  He was a human being who had been tossed out a window. The shit hurt. He ended up with blades of grass in his mouth and his ass sticking up in the air. Samson had also lost his grip on his underwear, and it was hanging on his thighs, as though he’d intentionally decided to moon Eric.

  If he’d died in this position, Samson would’ve been pissed.

  He rolled to his back and pulled the underwear back up as Eric climbed through the window and landed on his feet like he jumped from windows for a living. All grace and no ass crack showing.

  Eric pulled Samson to his feet. It was then that Samson got a good look at the house, and fuck, they were lucky to have survived. Samson shrieked and ran behind Eric when the kitchen windows blew out, sending shards of glass everywhere. The fire rushed out the window and licked up toward the roof.

  There would be no saving the house. It was ruined. Samson shivered, not because he felt cold but because he and Eric could have been burned alive, and the thought was downright sobering.

  Eric had his cell phone gripped in his hand. He must’ve grabbed it while Samson was having his meltdown because he hadn’t noticed it when Eric was helping him get out the window. His mate dialed as Samson watched the flames, hypnotized by them. They were destructive, yet beautiful. Not that he was into burning homes, but the colors danced as the fire grew. It was like watching nature purge the house so the land underneath could renew.

  What the fuck am I thinking? This shit isn’t art. It’s horrible.

  He ripped his gaze away from the house to stare at Eric who was still talking on his phone. He looked pale, his right hand twitched, and there was a hard murderous glint in his brown eyes.

  Mr. Lumberjack was determined to kill Eric, and losing his house was bad. But Samson broke out in
a cold sweat when he thought of the possibility if they’d gone to his apartment. Not only would his home been destroyed but the shops along the block, too.

  A shot rang out. Eric spun and dropped to the ground. It took a full second for Samson to even realize what was going on before he screamed.

  Walking out of the woods like the devil walking out of the gates of hell was Mr. Lumberjack.

  The smart thing would’ve been to run, but Samson wasn’t leaving Eric. He glanced down at his mate and saw how bloody his shoulder was, but Eric’s chest was moving, which meant he wasn’t dead.

  “I never thought getting you alone would be so fucking hard,” Mr. Lumberjack growled. “That animal just won’t fucking die.”

  He lifted his rifle and aimed it at Eric. Samson jumped in the way, blocking the guy’s view. “What do you want?” he screamed at the bastard, though on the inside, Samson was shaking so hard he should’ve shaken apart.

  He wasn’t a brave man, especially when a weapon was involved. If this had been a mugging, Samson would’ve thrown his wallet at the guy in the first five seconds, but Mr. Lumberjack wasn’t here to mug them. He was here to kill Eric, and Samson wouldn’t allow that to happen.

  “What do I want?” Mr. Lumberjack swung the rifle at Samson. The hatred in his eyes should’ve killed Samson on the spot. Staring daggers didn’t even being to describe the look he gave Samson.

  The distant sound of sirens filled the air. Mr. Lumberjack curled his lip.

  Eric suddenly shifted into his cougar, but he still lay there unmoving. Mr. Lumberjack snarled and swung his rifle back at Eric.

  Samson wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, but he lunged at the guy, his fingers curling around the gun. He shoved his arms upward just as the rifle went off. Mr. Lumberjack slugged him in the gut, and Samson crumpled, holding his stomach as he tried to remember to breathe as pain shot through his entire body.

  The sirens grew even closer.

  Mr. Lumberjack grabbed Samson by his hair and tried to drag him into the woods, but Samson wasn’t that easy to kidnap. Or he wouldn’t be since this was the first time this had ever happened to him.

  His mama had once said she was surprised he wasn’t kidnapped as a kid because when Samson was younger, he'd been the most naïve kid around. If a guy had rolled up and said he’d lost his dog, Samson would’ve jumped into the van and tried to help, no questions asked.

  Thank fuck he’d grown out of that stage. He wasn’t jaded now but wiser.

  “No!” Samson twisted and turned and then kicked Mr. Lumberjack’s knee.

  The guy jerked sideways, growling as he tried to keep his grip, but just as he jerked, Samson twisted to his left, and the hold was lost.

  He scrambled away as lights began to swirl in the backyard. Mr. Lumberjack glared at him with those hateful eyes. “This ain’t over.”

  As dire as the situation was, Samson wanted so badly to respond with something just as menacing, to hurl a threat back at Mr. Lumberjack, but all he could think to say was, “You wish you were as scared as you think I am!”

  Whatever the hell that meant. Samson wasn’t good under pressure. Obviously.

  He scrambled back to Eric and covered his mate with his body, although Eric was now a cougar. Mr. Lumberjack raced into the woods as the backyard filled with men.

  Not only were the firemen there but cops, too.

  “He went that way!” Samson jabbed his finger toward the woods. “He shot Eric!”

  The cops took off in that direction as Sheriff Werth knelt next to Samson. “Let me take a look.”

  Samson didn’t want to move for fear Mr. Lumberjack would return and try to finish what he’d started. He moved aside just enough for the sheriff to check Eric’s wound.

  “Looks like he’s already healing.” Sheriff Werth gave Samson a soft smile. “He’s gonna be okay.”

  “How?” Samson’s chest heaved as he looked around. The house was still aflame, Mr. Lumberjack had gotten away, and Eric had been shot. “He won’t stop until Eric is dead.”

  But now Samson knew the truth. Mr. Lumberjack wasn’t after Eric.

  He was after Samson, and Samson couldn’t think of a single reason why. But he told the sheriff his concern about the stranger being after Eric.

  “Let’s get you guys into my patrol car.” Sheriff Werth lifted the cougar like Eric weighed no more than a sack of flour. With his left hand gripping the side of his underwear, Samson followed, feeling his face on fire as he walked past the gorgeous firemen wearing next to nothing. Then again, it could’ve been the fire making him so flushed, but Samson seriously doubted that was the case.

  The sheriff opened the back door—with the cougar still in his arms, so that was an amazing feat—and tucked the cat into the backseat. Samson hurried to the other side, but Eric took up most of the room, so he wedged himself between the front seat and the cougar and closed the door, thankful Mr. Lumberjack hadn’t taken a kill shot.

  When he was enclosed in the car, the rest of the world drowned out, tears sprang to Samson’s eyes as he petted the cougar, grateful his mate was still alive.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sheriff Werth had used the back way into Samson’s apartment so no one would see him carrying a hefty cougar in his arms. The back entrance had a lot more steps, and Samson feared the sheriff would drop Eric to his death—because the steps were free standing against the building and the cougar could have easily fallen over the side—but Werth managed, and without breaking a sweat.

  If Samson wasn’t mated and the sheriff wasn’t bonded to Newt, he would be all over that fine man. Sheriff Orlando Werth was insanely tall, broad in all the right places, had gorgeous brown eyes, sensual brown skin, and lips that looked as if he kissed like a dream, and why in the fuck was Samson molesting the sheriff in his mind?

  Samson felt guilty as he unlocked the back door and stepped aside as the sheriff took Eric inside. “Straight down the hallway,” he said as he closed the door, tossing aside his keys and kicking his own ass for secretly checking the sheriff out.

  To be fair, Werth was hot and Samson was mated, not dead or blind. And even if he had been blind, that deep voice would’ve sent shivers down his spine.

  Ugh, I really hate myself right now.

  “Left,” Samson said when the sheriff walked by his bedroom. “Sorry.” I would’ve told you to turn left sooner, but I was too busy berating myself.

  Samson shrieked when his mom’s bedroom door swung open. After everything he’d been through, his nerves were frayed. That was his story, and he was sticking to it. “Mom! What’re you doing here?”

  “I kind of live here.” She looked at Eric, and her eyes rounded. As far as Samson knew, this was her first time seeing a cougar. And Eric was huge. The sheriff disappeared into Samson’s bedroom as Samson turned to face his mother.

  “I know that. I just thought you’d be at work.” Since James had been taken to the underworld, all she had done was work, work, work. Samson had a feeling that was her way of trying not to think about losing her mate. Wash, rinse, repeat. Those three words probably played over and over in her head, even in her sleep. “How are you feeling?”

  That was a dumb thing to ask but a knee-jerk question that slipped from his mouth.

  “What’s wrong with him?” She looked past Samson as if she could see into his bedroom. Okay, so they were playing evade-the-question game. He loved his mother and, to be honest, wasn’t in the mood to discuss her feelings. That might take the rest of the day, and Samson selfishly wanted to get to his mate and check on him.

  “He was shot.” Samson hadn’t wanted to tell her what was going on, because she had enough to deal with already. No doubt the emotional strain on her was overwhelming, and Samson had no right to add to that. But he broke down and told her about Mr. Lumberjack and everything that had happened, starting with the car crash.

  So much for hurrying to Eric’s side.

  Her brows furrowed as her jaw dropped. “Why do you ca
ll him that?”

  “What?”

  “Why do you call the guy Mr. Lumberjack?”

  “After everything I told you, that’s your question?” Samson had told her about his mate being purposely T-boned, that Eric had been poisoned, that Mr. Lumberjack had shown up at the clinic, and that he’d set Eric’s house on fire and then shot him, and lastly, how the guy had tried to kidnap him. And she wanted to know why Samson nicknamed the guy that?

  “Because he reminds me of one,” Samson said and then described the guy, from his long beard to his flannel shirt to those beady brown eyes that had been filled with hatred as he threatened that this wasn’t over.

  His mother gasped and then put a hand to her throat as she stared wide-eyed at him. “I think I know who he is.”

  That was the last thing Samson expected her to say. He would’ve been less shocked if she told him the sky was purple or that the moon had crashed into the ocean. “What do you mean you know him?”

  Sheriff Werth stepped from the bedroom, and Samson was glad he felt no attraction whatsoever toward the guy. He was handsome, but a guy could appreciate that without wanting to jump someone’s bones.

  “Did you just say you know who the guy is?” Werth asked.

  “James hung out with a guy like you just described. They went off in secret together, and the one time I asked who he was and why James acted that way whenever he was around, James told me to mind my own business.”

  “Do you know his name?” Werth asked.

  She shook her head and then frowned as if she had just recalled a fact. “I once heard James call him Cameron.”

  Samson could not connect Mr. Lumberjack with the name Cameron. He had been expecting Goliath or Thor or even Lucifer. Cameron sounded too soft for a big burly guy. Not that Samson was an expert. For all he knew, there could be a lumberjack out there somewhere named Heather. Who was he to judge?

  “And you don’t know anything else about him?” Werth asked.