Chapter Thirteen

SAM TURNED OUT TO BEright about her mom making bail. By the next afternoon, she was released with a court date six weeks away. Krista didn't hear from her, not that she expected to for a while. Sam couldn't say who posted bond, which was set at $100,000 due to her history. It was paid through an attorney, the client's name undisclosed. None of her druggy friends had that kind of money or the ability to hire anything other than a public defender.

The mystery surrounding her presence on the island remained. Her car had been impounded and the plates run. It belonged to a rental car agency, paid for by another anonymous source. Finding it highly suspicious a woman could be flat broke one day and the next be walking around with five hundred in cash and calling in favors from friends with means, Sam vowed to get to the bottom of it, as well as how she got access to the residents' area. That issue he was taking before the governing council, and he assured her he would let her know what he found out.

That news would have to come by way of a phone call because they didn't meet until the following week. With only little time left on her sentence, she'd be back in Georgetown by then and out of Sam's life.

With her daddy determined to protect his heart, she'd begun to distance herself as much as she could. It was difficult because she wanted to soak up as much Sam-time as possible, but she knew it would only make leaving all the harder.

Krista worked in the stables every morning, went to school twice a week, and did her other chores as usual. She had dinner ready for him each evening, and slept in his arms every night, but focused on the future she would have to settle for, not the one in her dreams. If he asked her to take a walk out to the barn after dinner, she declined with an excuse of a chapter to read or a test to study for. And now, with Curt and Sam's permission, she took to riding on her own each afternoon, staying out until the sun was sinking in the western sky. When he wanted to watch a movie, snuggled with her on the couch as before, she'd yawn and claim exhaustion.

Her daddy was sharp, and she knew he wasn't fooled, but with their time rapidly winding down, he didn't call her on her avoidance.

The afternoon before she was due to leave the ranch, Krista headed out on Willow for the last time. According to her contract, at midnight that night, her sentence would end, her debt paid. The option to stay was still on the table, and she had a few interviews lined up, but she had already decided she couldn't live on the island and risk seeing Sam, especially with another submissive. It would kill her. And there would be no sense in staying because she wasn't interested in any dominant except her daddy.

Lost in her own dismal thoughts, she let Willow walk the familiar trails wherever they led. Naturally, she took the paths she liked best, and Krista wasn't surprised when she looked up and found them on one of the sandy trails leading to the beach. When they emerged from the pine-tree-lined trail, streaks of pink and yellow painted the horizon, but the sun was gone. It would be dark soon, the men long since done for the day, and she'd have to see to Willow herself.

Sam wouldn't be pleased she'd stayed out so late, but with only a few hours left, she'd risk his temper. It would be worth it to ride through the waves one last time on the mare she would miss nearly as much as him.

When they reached the water's edge, she drew Willow to a halt. Both of them raised their heads and enjoyed the wind and slight mist in their faces.

"I'll miss this," she told the mare. "I hope someone will bring you down here after I'm gone. I told Lester how much you like it, but you know that old curmudgeon." With tears filling her eyes, she leaned forward and buried her face in the horse's mane. "I'm going to miss you, too, Willow."

The horse nickered softly, as if returning the sentiment.

"But look at me," she told her, while sitting up and wiping her eyes. "We came to ride, and here I sit bawling all over you."

She turned her into the wind, and, with a click of her tongue, they were off down the coastline. They rode until the pink was gone from the sky and dusk had set in. Only then did she rein Willow in because it was past time to turn back.

While she was taking one last look out over the water, a shout drew her attention.

Up ahead, anchored in the shallow surf, a small fishing boat bobbed in the waves. It didn't drift in or out with the tide, so she figured it was anchored.

Voices drifted back to her. She followed them inland to where three men approached an outcropping of rocks. They walked in single file, carrying what, from this distance, appeared to be crates. Another shout drew her gaze to the top of the rocky ledge, the same one she and Sam had stopped at on that long-ago tour of the ranch.

But what she saw there set her into a panic.

She sawed hard on Willow's reins and kicked her into a sprint as the crack of a gunshot sounded.

***

"HOW LONG HAS SHE BEENgone?" Sam asked the stable manager for the third time.

Curt patiently answered. "Since a few minutes past four. I know because she took off right after the feed truck left. When it started getting dark and she hadn't returned, I went back and checked the delivery time on the invoice."

Sam checked his watch. Seven-thirty p.m.

"Krista doesn't usually ride this long. But she hasn't been acting like herself this past week."

Sam turned and glared at not only his employee, but his longtime close friend. "Don't start."

"Did you know she told all the hands goodbye today? Hugged them with tears in her eyes like she'd never see them again."

"We have other pressing matters to discuss right now."

"Yeah, like what a fool you'd be to let that sweet little gal go. She's perfect for you."

"So you've said," he said tersely. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Is that so?" the older man snapped right back, unintimidated by him as always, and having no problem saying his piece. "A man doesn't have a right to be concerned when his friend has his head so far up his ass he can't see daylight?"

"I'm not interested in a permanent relationship. You know that."

"Because of April, I get that, son. But she's been gone five years, Sam. It's okay to move on."

"I have. It's how I've chosen to move on you disagree with."

"Yes, because, before Krista, you were just going through the motions. Sure, you did your job, as ranch owner, as sheriff, as a lead dominant in the society, but since that girl arrived, you're different, and it's a change for the better."

"I'll take your opinions under advisement, Mom. Thanks."

"Don't be an ass. You've been happier than I've seen you in five long years. I walked in here last week and heard you laughing. Do you know how long it's been since I've heard my friend Sam laugh? But if you're too goddamned stubborn to see the good thing you've got, you deserve your lonely existence." He turned and stalked away, muttering, and not quietly, so Sam had no problem hearing his parting shot. "Fucking obstinate moron."

The pounding of hooves coming in fast had him and the other three men who'd stayed late for a foaling up at the large barn, running for the door. It was full dark, but he could see Willow's bright coat and the shadow of a rider on her back.

He breathed a sigh of relief she hadn't been thrown and lay injured somewhere on the trails while he moved forward to meet her in the yard. He grabbed hold of the mare's bridle and slowed her to a walk, but when he saw her condition, covered in sweat and blowing hard, he turned in accusation to her rider.

"Krista, what the hell?"

His demeanor instantly changed when he got a glimpse of her pale, panic-stricken face. Before he could repeat his question and find out what this was about, she literally launched herself from the saddle and into his arms, shaking, her breathing shallow and quick, as winded as Willow.

"What is it, baby? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I...they...men," she stammered between pants. With her arms wrapped around his neck in something darn close to a choke hold, and her body draped down his front, he could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

"Joe, come take her horse," Sam called to one of his men. Once he'd tossed him the reins, he caught her legs behind the knees and, cradling her, strode quickly toward the house. "Slow your breathing, darlin', or you'll hyperventilate."

She attempted to take in a deep gulp of air, but his urging had come too late. By the time he bounded up the stairs and slammed through the back door, she was wheezing and gasping. Once in the kitchen, he didn't bother with a chair but sat her on the counter.

His hands framed her face. Worried she would pass out, he knew soothing niceties could come later. "Listen to Daddy, Krista," he said firmly. "I want you to inhale through your nose, then pucker your lips like you're whistling, and blow out through your mouth."

She nodded, and tried, her body jerking as tears rolled down her face. Beyond the point of calm and reasonable, when that didn't work immediately, her fingers curled in the front of his shirt. "I-I c-can't, D-da..." The rest came out as a hitching sob.

He straightened, having to clasp her wrists to pry her hands off him.

"Do-don't...l-leave—"

"I'm not going anywhere," he told her as he pulled out drawers and opened cupboards. "Dammit," he barked when he couldn't locate what he was searching for. Doing an about face, he strode to the pantry closet. He tore the door open so roughly it bounced off the wall. His eyes scanned the shelves. When he found the small stack of brown paper lunch bags that had been sitting in the same spot for years, taking up space since no one used them, he heaved a huge sigh of relief that Lucinda hadn't thrown them away.

When he came back to her, he shook out the bag and held it over her nose and mouth. "Concentrate on slow and easy, sweet girl."

Her hands clamped down on his forearms, nails digging into his skin even through his shirt, but he didn't care. Whatever it took to get her to calm. After a few ragged attempts at first, the bag collapsed on every inhale and inflated when she blew out. Soon, by some miracle, her labored breaths slowed to normal.

When Sam removed the bag. Krista immediately faceplanted into his chest. His arms came around her still-trembling body, hands sliding up and down her back. "What's this about, darlin'? What has you so spooked?"

Though muffled by his shirt, he had no trouble understanding her response. "Gunshots."

His hands clasped her shoulders, and he sat her up. His gaze dipped down her body, scanning rapidly for blood or other signs of injury. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "I'm okay, but one of the men looked right at me."

"Men. There was more than one?"

"I counted four."

"Where?"

"At the beach near the inlet."

"The inlet," he repeated. "Why would anyone be shooting there? What were they doing, could you tell?"

"No, but it couldn't have been good for them to shoot at me."

"At you?" he exploded. "You didn't say they shot at you!"

She blinked, staring back at him, calmer than he was, now. "I thought I just did."

His fingers tightened. "Are you sure, darlin'? Sounds get distorted on the beach with the waves and the wind."

"I'm certain. I saw the spray of sand when the bullet hit near Willow's hooves."

He released her and rubbed his hands over his face. Someone had shot at her, and apparently it was a near miss. What was going on?

"Tell me everything that happened."

"I took the south trail down to the beach. Well, more like Willow did; that girl loves to walk in the waves." Suddenly, her hands fisted in his shirt again. "Is she all right? The man shouted, and when I saw him take aim, I didn't even think, only reacted. I whirled her around, and she took off, with me ducked low over her neck. I didn't dare look, but she was so brave, even in the midst of a hail of gunfire."

"Heaven help me," he muttered. "He fired that many?"

"Well, it seemed like a hail at the time, but it was more like four or five shots. She didn't hesitate at all, and ran at a dead sprint to the ranch. That must mean she's okay, right?"

"I would think so."

"Can you check for me?"

"Joe or Curt would have been up here demanding answers if they'd found a bullet wound."

Her eyes welled with tears. "I'm sorry I rode her so hard, Daddy, but we had to get away."

He gathered her close and murmured into her hair, "Of course, you did, baby. I'm glad you acted so quickly and got home to me safe."

"The man being a bad shot helped. We weren't that far away."

"Heaven help me," he repeated, striving for calm.

She pulled back and looked up at him. "You're shaking. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, but the thought of how close you came to getting shot..."

"I understand," she said, bracketing his face with both hands. "Breathe, Daddy. It's a delayed reaction, like I had. I don't want you hyperventilating, too."

He took her advice and drew in a deep breath, which helped only slightly.

"Darlin' girl, your fear bled into me. It's a feeling I hope to live the rest of my life without experiencing again." He covered her hands with his own and turned his face, pressing a kiss into her palm. When he wanted only to hold her, it galled to have to move on to business, but it couldn't be helped. "After the fright you've had, I hate to have to ask, but I need to know what else you saw? Can you describe the man with the gun, or the others?"

"There were three other men, although he wasn't exactly with them. He was on the rise while the others unloaded a boat moored down by the beach. It could be the fact that he had a gun, and was merely the lookout, but I got the impression it was his operation, like he was the boss. I'm not sure why, other than a feeling."

"Sometimes feelings give us our best leads, darlin'. Could you see what they were unloading?"

"Crates. I don't know how many. They went into an opening in the rocks. I wasn't there long enough to see much else because that's when the man shouted."

His gaze rose to the ceiling as pieces of a long-unsolved puzzle fell into place. "Of course. It's open but little used because of the rocks. Dammit, they're using my property, right under my very nose. It didn't even occur to me—"

"Their smuggling in drugs, aren't they? They were stashing whatever was in those crates inside the rocks. Its either their cache supplying the island, or the drop-off point for someone to come for them later, don't you think?

"That's my theory exactly. My guess is you panicked them, and they ran. But if it's a drug cache, they'll be back for it."

"And you'll be there to catch them?"

"That's the idea, darlin'. This man who you think was the boss, can you tell me anything about him?"

She shook her head again. "I didn't get a good look. It was close to dark, and he was wearing dark clothes. And he had something covering most of his face." She held up her hands in imitation. "Not really glasses, but—"

"Goggles?" he guessed. "Like night vision?"

"Could be." She frowned. "I can't say for sure. Me and Willow were hightailing it out of there fast. I'm sorry, Daddy."

He pulled her close again, enfolding her snugly against his chest. "You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, darlin'. Nothing to be sorry about—except being out past dark."

She decided to pretend not to hear that last part, and hoped he would ignore it, too. "But this is the break in the case you've been waiting for, right? I know you've been frustrated trying to discover how they've been smuggling the drugs onto the island."

"Yes." He pulled her face up and kissed her mouth hard. "And you've just handed me the missing piece to the puzzle. Thank you, darlin', but I wish you weren't in harm's way for me to get it, and I'd sacrifice it all if he hadn't seen you."

"Yeah, I don't like that part much either."

"I need to make some calls. Are you calm enough for me to leave you for two minutes to get the cordless phone? I left my cell out in the barn while I was saddling Rio."

"Were you coming to look for me?"

"It was getting dark, and you weren't home yet. What do you think?"

"I lost track of time while riding."

"Which is easy to do riding along the beach, but navigating unfamiliar trails after dark, or anytime by yourself, isn't something I'll allow. But we can discuss that later."

"We discuss a lot of things later, and it usually ends up with me spanked."

"It's all a part of the learning process. And while you've earned a trip over my knee, it won't be such that you won't enjoy the reward that comes after. But I've got business to take care of first."

"Okay, Daddy."

He paused. "Krista, you'll have to let me go first."

Still clinging to him, her hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt, she muttered, "Right. Sorry."

"Not a problem, darlin'." He kissed her forehead before he moved away.

***

TRUE TO HIS WORD, ONCEshe released him, he was in and out of the living room, cordless phone in hand, then back at the counter where she sat. He wrapped his left hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her against him while he dialed with the thumb of his right.

Leaning against him, she closed her eyes, listening while he spoke to Jerry. The low tones of his resonant drawl, and the vibrations coming from deep in his chest and transferring to her own helped to ease some of her tension. Even more so, the gentle stroking of his thumb along the side of her throat went a long way toward soothing her jagged nerves. She still couldn't believe she'd been shot at.

"Send Hal and Carl out to the ranch to keep an eye on things. I don't like leaving Krista here alone." The idea didn't appeal much to her either. "Bring Max and Jesse with you," he continued. "We'll meet up on the access road at the fork to Golden's Inlet in twenty."

When the phone beeped to end the call, she leaned back and gazed up at him in surprise. "You have an inlet named after you, too?"

"And a few roads. My family has owned this property since the American Revolution."

"Cool, but I thought you were from Texas."

His mouth kicked up slightly on one side. "Some of us have strayed in 250 years, but most found their way home, like my grandparents did, and me."

"I like that," she said with a smile and once more settled against his chest.

"I like having you in my arms, darlin', all warm and sweet, but I've gotta go."

She peered at the kitchen clock. "You said twenty minutes. It only takes five to get to the inlet by truck."

"I'm going to scout ahead. Stay inside with the doors locked, and don't open them for anyone until the deputies arrive." He nudged her chin up with his thumb. "Give me a kiss before I go."

Instead, with a feeling of unease creeping into her bones, she asked, "Shouldn't you wait for backup?"

"I want to get the lay of the land. Besides, the drug runners are probably long gone by now anyway."

An image of the man taking potshots at Sam, the way he'd done to her, turned the unease into fear. "I don't like this."

"I'm not going in with guns blazing, Krista."

"Please be careful." Her hands came up to bracket his face, one she'd come to love. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

He smiled. "I'm growing on you, aren't I, little girl?"

She squinched up her nose at his teasing. "I'd probably get in trouble if I compare you to mold on cheese, huh?"

"What do you think?" he drawled

"Then I'd better keep it to myself."

"Smart girl."

His goodbye kiss left her breathless and pretty darn close to needing the paper bag again.

"I'll be back soon," he murmured, his words warm on her wet lips. "And we'll finish what we started."

She came close to begging him to take her right there in the kitchen and forget about the dangerous drug runners, but he had a job to do.

He ran a finger along her lower lip, his touch a tender promise then, with a sexy grin on his even sexier just-kissed lips, he picked up his Stetson from the counter beside her and strode for the door. Although muddleheaded, Krista didn't miss the opportunity to admire his perfectly fitted Levi's over his divine ass as he went.

Dazed, and more than a little dazzled by everything that made up Sheriff Samuel Golden, she didn't notice when he paused in the open doorway until he called her name. "Krista, darlin'?"

Her gaze rose to meet his.

He looked like he was bursting to say something poignant or profound, but only settled his hat on his head and ordered, "Lock up behind me." To his dog, he issued the command, "Dallas. Guard Krista." Then he was out the door.

When the latch clicked, she raced across the kitchen. Mainly because she didn't relish being left alone in the ranch house while armed criminals were loose on the island. Having a 100-pound watchdog for protection helped, however. She also wanted to get another look at him through the curtained window. When she shoved the curtains aside, she found him waiting.

After she twisted the lock and the dead bolt, securing the door, he met her gaze briefly through the glass and surprised her with a wink. On another man, it might've looked hokey, but on Sam it made her heart thump and her mouth go dry.

The next moment, he descended the steps and disappeared into the darkness. Krista was left with a funny feeling inside. It wasn't her racing pulse or the warmth of the desire his kisses stirred within her, but cold dread.