The Sheriff's Daughter Page 5

  They were silent for half a mile before she burst out, “Do you know how hard I’ve struggled to get work at that barn? The fees from being their backup vet alone would make a huge dent in the money I spend on the shelter.” She banged the steering wheel and took a sharp corner a little too fast, sending gravel skidding off the road to the cliffs and water below. “That little mare would’ve died without me. Sure, Dr. High-and-Mighty Sears didn’t expected her to pop so early, and he wouldn’t have known the foal was butt-first, but damn it! I thought this was going to be my big break.”

  “Sorry,” he said, though the word seemed inadequate.

  She shot him a glare. “Oh, what do you care? You want me to up and leave town because of trouble you got me into. How is that fair?”

  “It isn’t,” he agreed, knowing it wasn’t him she was mad at, but glad to see her blowing off some steam. “But it’s really for the best.”

  She shot daggers at him. “I knew renting the cottage to you was a bad idea the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  Logan reminded himself she had a right to be ticked. But her anger resonated with the edgy, spiky energy he felt at her nearness, at their situation. His own blood heated a notch. “Well, I’m sorry if my—”

  “Logan!” she shouted. “The brakes don’t work!” She tromped the pedal and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands.

  The truck didn’t slow.

  His stomach vised. The curve of Third Cliff came too fast. Too sharp. “Look out!”

  Samantha screamed, spun the wheel and hit the brakes again, but the truck didn’t slow, didn’t change course.

  In fact, it sped up, headed toward the drop-off, and the rocks and foamy salt water below.

  “Hang on!” He jammed a hand to the roof of the cab and grabbed a fistful of her shirt, just as the truck crashed through the flimsy guardrail and flew into empty space.

  Chapter Four

  “Logan!” Sam’s seat belt locked across her hips and shoulder. The truck lunged out into nothingness and seemed to hang there.

  The high tide crashed against rocks thirty feet below. A gull screamed. Logan grabbed her arm.

  And they fell.

  The back of the truck slammed into the cliff face and the recoil shot them away, toward the deep water below the cliff.

  “Hang on!” Logan’s shout was nearly lost amid the crash of a second impact.

  Hang on to what? Sam thought, panicked, as the world spun and flailed. Their seat belts locked them in place, but the tumbling fall jolted her from side to side. So she grabbed for the solidest thing nearby.

  Him.

  The front of the truck hit a boulder, or maybe the foot of the cliff, and the back of the vehicle dropped with a lurch. The cab flipped like a carnival ride and Sam screamed as the truck fell backward into the water.

  Upside down.

  “It’s deep here!” she yelled over the gurgle around them and the pounding of her heart in her ears. “The cliff divers don’t touch bottom!”

  Panic locked her throat as she fought her seat belt and jerked the door handle. Out! She needed to get out! Oh, God, they were sinking. The truck listed onto its side and slowly dropped toward darkness. Toward death.

  She shoved at the door, but it wouldn’t open. Claustrophobia clawed through her and panic narrowed her focus to a pinprick as the light faded from day to twilight-green. The air in the medical equipment compartments in the back buoyed the vehicle enough to flip it right side up, but not enough to keep it afloat.

  They were sinking. “Get me out of here! I don’t want to die!”

  “Samantha.” Strong fingers closed on hers. “Calm down.”

  She yanked away. “Calm down? How do you expect me to calm down? The door won’t open! We’re sinking. We’re—” Her seat belt gave way at last and she tumbled across the small cab.

  Logan’s arms closed around her, holding her still, trapping her.

  “Let me go. We’ve got to get out!” She thrashed and howled, her long-outgrown fear of small, dark spaces rearing up to overwhelm her senses. “Let me go!”

  “Samantha! Sam! Settle down!” His shout cut into panic’s fog and she turned her face to his. Sharp amber pierced the fear and she took a breath. He grabbed her upper arms and shook her. “You with me now? You ready to get the hell out of here?”

  She nodded, unable to trust her voice. The truck lurched and shuddered. She whimpered, but held onto the feel of his hands on her arms.

  “Okay, I need you to blow out a couple of good breaths, then suck one in and hold it, okay? We’re going to roll down the windows and let the water in. When the pressure has equalized, we’ll be able to open the door, okay?” When she didn’t respond, he shook her again. “Okay?”

  How could he be so calm? They were sinking! The sea bubbled in, cooling her legs where they tangled with his. But his eyes demanded an answer, so she nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good. Stay with me. We’re going to take those breaths now.”

  And they did. Eyes locked, they exhaled twice then inhaled, and he cranked his window down.

  Cold water gushed in, startling the breath out of her.

  Breathe! She had to breathe! But he grabbed her hand and ordered, “Take another breath and hold it, now!”

  Then he reached across her and rolled down the other window.

  Water roared into the cab, filling it. Cold wetness bit through her clothes and dragged at the fabric. Every thing was suddenly darker, as though they’d already hit bottom, as though there was no way out.

  Sam’s vision grayed. Her lungs collapsed on themselves, her brain cried out for her to breathe. Breathe! She closed her eyes and fought the panic, fought the need to howl.

  Then she felt his strong grip on her wrist, pulling her out and up.

  Up.

  She opened her eyes and saw light overhead, glorious sunlight reflected off the surface. It seemed close enough to touch, yet too far to reach. Then Logan was beside her, an arm around her waist, kicking them both up toward the air.

  Suddenly anxious to get away from her truck, she scissored her legs and cursed the drag of her light pants. She kicked off her loafers and swam hard with Logan at her side.

  They broke the surface together and gasped for air.

  Before they could rejoice, a wave crested over the top of them, and the tidal surge picked them up and tossed them toward the rocky face of Third Cliff.

  New panic bloomed in Sam’s chest. The cliff divers warned of undertows and strange tidal eddies that could crush a swimmer against the rocks in half a minute. They had to get the hell out of there.

  “Swim!” She struck out on a diagonal, aiming for a small spit of sand beyond the cliff outcropping, where the local thrill seekers dragged themselves after jumping off the cliff right beside the No Diving sign. “This way!”

  Logan passed her in a half-dozen strokes, then reached back to help her. “Come on, I’ve got you!”

  A heavy wave picked them up and flung them toward shore. They bodysurfed the last fifty feet until they felt sand beneath them. Firm, glorious sand.

  Oh, God. Shaking uncontrollably, she touched the yielding grit and felt tears press. Exultation swept through her.

  We’re alive!

  “We made it!” Sam struggled to her feet, shackled by her sodden clothing and unsteady legs. She grabbed Logan, or maybe he grabbed her, and they staggered out of the surf line together, gasping for air and talking incoherently over each other with a blend of adrenaline and frantic relief.

  When they reached the dry, fluffy sand, Logan dropped to the ground and pulled Sam with him. She rolled onto her back, luxuriating in the feel of solid land beneath her and letting the realization that they were safe flow through her like a promise.

  Then he leaned over her, brows furrowed in concern. “Are you hurt? Sam, are you okay?” He ran a hand down her side, checking for injuries. Flames engulfed her from his touch.

  Without thinking, without questioning her motives or the
wisdom of the action, she reached up, locked her arms behind his neck and drew him down for a kiss.

  She meant the gesture to say, We’re alive. Thank you! But what might have begun as a gesture morphed into passion at the first touch of her lips to his. Heat chased away the chill of terror, and joy lightened her limbs and heart.

  This is what she’d missed, she thought instantly. The flash and the flame. Only this was much more than she’d had with the others.

  Logan’s body stiffened at the first touch and his hand fisted in the sodden cloth of her drawstring pants. He held still for one heartbeat. Another. Then, with a startled, reverent oath he rolled fully against her and aligned their bodies soft to hard, smoke to flame.

  The power of it rocketed through her even as she opened her mouth to touch her tongue to his and found him waiting for her.

  Demanding her.

  Their mouths mated greedily, almost violently, yet his hand was gentle at her hip, soothing the place where her bandage was soaked with salt water, just as he’d kept her calm long enough to pull her from the sinking truck.

  At the memory of sinking, of space closing in on her, Sam tangled her legs with his and pressed nearer still, until it seemed she could slide inside his skin and absorb the heat and power of him. Or maybe that was her heat, her power, the energy that they made together.

  Whatever the source, she reveled in it, in the feeling of being alive as she traced her lips along his jaw and arched against the feel of his hand sliding up her ribs to cup her breast.

  Then it all ended, as abruptly as it had begun.

  Conscious of the change, of the quick stillness of his entire body, she stiffened and jerked her eyes open, fearing an outside attack. But his attention was focused entirely on her, the molten heat of his dark-rimmed amber eyes seeming to spear into her core and fan the blaze of their bodies.

  Oh, God. Their bodies. What the heck was she doing?

  Sanity returned with a wet thud, leaving them staring at each other, hearts pounding, wondering what they had just done and what it might mean.

  Or not mean.

  “Um…” She swallowed hard and forced her voice steadier than that pitiful quaver. “Thanks for saving my life.”

  His expression darkened and he shifted away from her, so their bodies were no longer aligned in intimate proximity. As though that wasn’t enough separation, he levered himself to his hands and knees, then rested back on his haunches. Beneath the wet material of his jeans and dark T-shirt, his body looked poised for fight, for flight, for just about damn near anything.

  “Don’t thank me.” He gained his feet in a smooth, tightly coiled move, then reached a hand down to help her up. “If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place.”

  Sam’s spinning brain refused to comprehend, but then the memory came. She’d hit the brakes and nothing had happened. Spun the wheel but there had been no response. She clenched her fists. “What? What are you saying?”

  He blew out a frustrated breath and tugged her up the beach, away from the water and the place where her van had sunk. “Don’t you get it? Your truck was sabotaged!”

  Sabotage. The three syllables made no sense, as though he’d spoken in a foreign language. She shook her head and followed him along the beach, to the place where a sandy trail led between two rocky walls and climbed to the road above.

  Impossible, she thought. This was Black Horse Beach. Sabotage was unthinkable.

  Or at least it had been, until Logan came to town.

  Sam slammed to a halt. “Why sabotage my truck? Why not yours? If you’re the one they’re after…”

  He turned back, expression unreadable, though there was banked heat in the tightness of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils. “I told you. That’s how Trehern works. He wants to get at me, so he’ll get to the people I care about first.”

  “But you hardly know me!”

  The sudden gleam in his eyes reminded her that they knew each other a whole lot better than they had minutes earlier, but instead of remarking on it, he growled, “That won’t matter to Viggo. He knows the best way to get at me is through a woman.”

  The flat venom in his pronouncement was as much a surprise as the unexpected flare of jealousy that caught Sam square in the chest. She bit back the sharp question and turned away to buy a moment to recover.

  A glint high up on the cliff caught her attention.

  Logan saw it in the same moment. “Down!” He pushed her to the sand, behind a jagged outcropping of rock, and covered her with his body.

  Sam tensed for the shot, for the burn of another splinter in her hip, or worse, to feel his body jerk against hers. They were barely covered by the rock, and the open sand of the canyon stretched beyond them in either direction. They were sitting ducks, and that was no poacher up there.

  But there was no shot.

  After a long moment, Sam risked a peek over Logan’s shoulder.

  He hissed, “Stay down,” but it didn’t sound like he meant it. His voice reflected her confusion and his body relaxed its protective embrace.

  “Is he gone?”

  Before Logan could answer, approaching footsteps told the story. Stones rattled at the entrance to the canyon, breaking free beneath the force of a man’s measured tread.

  Logan cursed and flattened her to the sand, covering her completely with his body for protection as dire foreknowledge thundered through her like fear.

  They should have run when they had the chance, should have—

  “Am I interrupting something?” The voice held no amusement.

  Relief sizzled through Sam when she recognized Jimmy’s tones, followed quickly by fear. “Jimmy, get down! There’s someone at the top of the cliff!”

  But Logan levered off her and offered a hand. “No, he’ll be gone by now. Viggo’s men don’t generally mess with cops. At least not when they’re in uniform.”

  Sam might have wondered at the complex layer of emotion she detected in his voice, but Jimmy didn’t give her the chance. The moment she was on her feet, he grabbed her.

  “Are you okay?” When she didn’t answer right away, he shook her gently. “Sam, are you hurt? Darryn Franks’s boy was on Second Cliff. He saw the truck go over and called it in…”

  Sam heard the ragged concern in her friend’s voice. She tore her attention away from Logan’s tense, stiff-legged stance and the jangling buzz of his body against hers, and focused on Jimmy. His eyes held worry and fear. Caring and concern.

  For her.

  The sight of it broke through the numb, disbelieving barriers that had buffered her from the accident, from the belief that something so awful, so terrifying had happened to her. She started to shake, and couldn’t stop. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

  “Sam? Are you hurt?” Jimmy stepped closer even as Logan strode down the beach, staring up at the cliff.

  “N-no.” She shook her head and tried to pull it together, tried to hold on to the strength her father had taught her. But toughness was a ragged cloak around her shoulders that let through drafts of fear. “Not hurt. But the truck—”

  The truck was in the ocean, along with all her equipment. She imagined it tilted on the rocky sea floor amid the dark green water, with the windows rolled down.

  What would have happened to her if Logan hadn’t been there to calm her? To roll down the windows and let the pressure equalize?

  In her mind, her own face pressed against the rolled up driver’s side window and she moaned.

  “You’re hurt.” Jimmy gathered her under his arm, though his embrace didn’t even begin to push back the ice gathered around her heart. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “No.” She resisted when he tried to lead her up the beach, away from Logan. “There was someone up on the cliff.” She pointed above, to where they’d seen the glint.

  The skyline was empty now, but that didn’t mean the person was gone. He could be waiting. The moment she and Jimmy left—r />
  Boom. Logan would be unprotected.

  “I’m calling in the state cops,” Jimmy answered without really answering. “We’ll wait for them. If this really is Viggo Trehern…” He shook his head. “I can’t risk the safety of the townspeople.” But his sideways blue-eyed glance told Sam the decision was as much for her as for anyone.

  “No.” Anxiety pounded through her, hot and hard, though she wasn’t totally sure of its source. “We can’t wait. We need to get up there right away.”

  And they needed to take Logan with them. Halfway down the beach, he was in full view of all three cliffs, which stood stony sentinel over the deep inlet waters. When he turned out toward the sea and spread his arms wide, Sam suddenly understood what he was doing.

  He was drawing fire. Or trying to.

  “Logan, get back here!” she shouted, not caring that her voice shrilled on his name. Jimmy’s iron grip held her from going after him, but Logan turned at her shout, shook his head, and retraced his steps across the sand.

  His expression was thunderously cold. He passed her without a word, as though they hadn’t shared a moment of pure, intense connection in the truck, as though they hadn’t tried to crawl inside each other’s skins on the beach, hadn’t shared a blazing kiss that should have been more, couldn’t have been less.

  “Logan?” she said quietly, and the single word brought him up short.

  He turned back, but didn’t look at her. His hunter’s stare was directed at the sheriff. “I need you to drive us back to the clinic. You can call reinforcements from there.”

  “Wait.” Sam would have stepped toward him, but his closed expression held her off as surely as Jimmy’s iron grip. “What are you going to do?”

  His eyes flickered briefly to her, then away. “I’m going to get my truck and make two stops. Then I’m picking you up and we’re heading into the city. You’re not safe here. Your brakes were tampered with!”

  Her instinctive denial that she didn’t want to leave Black Horse Beach, didn’t want to go into protective custody, was blunted by the shakes and the image of her own face inside a blue-green shrouded truck. Her brakes had been fine leaving the sheriff’s office. Or had they? It didn’t make any sense to think someone at Bellamy Farm had tried to hurt her. Then again, none of it made sense.