Safe in His Arms

by Christine Scott

  “Purty,” the sheriff snapped, pointing a finger at the woods. “Take a look out there. Stay along the treeline. See if you can find any spent casings.”

  With a nod, Purty hurried off the porch.

  “I’ve got ’em, Sheriff,” the other deputy called out. He snapped his penknife closed and held up a plastic bag with three misshapen bullets inside. “Looks like our shooter was totin’ a .22.”

  The sheriff took the bag, turning it over in his hands. Without looking up, he said, “Charlie, help Purty look for those casings. And see if there’s any footprints…besides Conner’s.”

  “Yes, sir.” The deputy turned, leaving them alone with the sheriff.

  For a long moment, Sheriff Broward did not speak. He studied the bullets in his hands, as though considering what to do next. With a sigh, he pushed his hat back on his head and scratched his thick shock of red hair. Fixing Samuel with a stony gaze, he said, “You just couldn’t listen to me, could ya?”

  Samuel shifted beside her, his foot scraping against the uneven ground. She felt the muscles of his body tauten.

  “I warned you something like this might happen. But you couldn’t leave things alone. You just had to stir up trouble, didn’t ya?”

  “You’re blaming this on me?” Samuel asked, his voice deceptively calm. Jessie felt the anger thrumming through his body.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” the sheriff growled. “Trouble always has had a way of following your family around.”

  Samuel started, looking as though he’d been struck by the insult.

  “Sheriff, you’re not being fair,” Jessie said, unable to stand back and allow the unjust accusations to continue. “Samuel had nothing to do with this. He’s been trying to help me find out who really killed my mother.”

  “Who killed your mother?” the sheriff scoffed, with a short, unamused bark of a laugh. His brows knit into a deep scowl. Turning cold eyes upon Samuel, he demanded, “What kind of lies have you been telling this girl?”

  “They’re not lies, Sheriff,” Jessie insisted. “My house was vandalized today. Just minutes ago shots were fired at me while I stood on my porch. Can’t you see what’s happening? Someone is trying to stop me. They don’t want me to know what really happened to my mother.”

  Slowly shaking his head from side to side, the sheriff muttered a string of curses beneath his breath. “Now, you listen to me, young lady. If there was some sort of secret, don’t you think I’d know about it? I was the one who worked that murder investigation.”

  Jessie sighed. “Sheriff, you don’t understand—”

  “No, I understand perfectly. You two think I made a mistake. That I botched the investigation. Well, you’re wrong.” Stepping closer, he jabbed a finger at Samuel’s chest. “No matter what he might have told you, the right man was charged and convicted of Eve Pierce’s murder.”

  Samuel’s face hardened. His eyes glinted with undisguised hatred.

  Without flinching, the sheriff met his bitter gaze. His jaw jutted out in challenge. The look in his eyes dared Samuel to argue.

  Jessie’s grip tightened around Samuel’s hand, squeezing it gently, willing him not to be goaded into a fight he could not win.

  Thankfully, beams of light washed against the walls of the porch, heralding the return of both deputies. Boots clomped along the stone walkway. Charlie stepped up to join them. “We found some casings. They were about a hundred yards away. Not a bad shot, considering—”

  “Considering they missed,” Samuel finished, grinding out the words through clenched teeth.

  “Samuel,” Jessie murmured, her voice a subtle warning.

  “We’re finished here,” the sheriff said, slapping a hand against his thigh.

  “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to do?” Samuel demanded.

  “What more do you want? Someone to hold your hand?” the sheriff asked, with a disgusted breath. “The gunman’s gone. There is nothing more we can do.”

  “Let them go, Samuel,” Jessie pleaded. “They can’t help us now.”

  “No one can help you,” the sheriff said with a pointed glance. “Not until you stop snooping into business where you don’t belong.”

  With that warning, he pivoted and strode from the porch. His deputies tagged along after him, like puppies following their master. Folding his tall frame into the front seat of his cruiser, he gunned the motor to life. Slamming it into gear, the car lurched forward, spitting out mud and rocks from beneath his tires.

  Jessie stared numbly at the angry display. At that moment she knew it was hopeless. There would be no help from the island’s law enforcement. She and Samuel were alone in their quest for the truth.

  “I’m sorry, Jessie,” Samuel said, his voice barely a gruff whisper. “Damn. If I hadn’t been here, he would have listened to you.”

  “Stop it, Samuel,” she said, surprising both of them with the anger shaking her voice. “I won’t let you blame yourself for everything that goes wrong. This isn’t your fault. The sheriff is the one to blame—him and his narrow mind.” She growled, venting her frustration. “If this is the way you’ve always been treated, then why do you stay here? Why don’t you just leave Prudence Island?”

  “Because it’s my home,” Samuel said, his vehemence startling her. “This is where I belong. My family has lived on this island for generations. I’m not going to let anyone, not even a jackass of a sheriff, run me off.”

  A stunned silence followed his declaration.

  Jessie blinked. She almost laughed, despite the tension filling the air—or perhaps, because of it. With a hesitant smile she said, “So, I’m not the only one who’s stubborn.”

  “I guess not,” he said, his own smile slower in coming. Cautiously he scanned the grounds. “We’d better not stand out here. There’s no need to make an easy target for someone.”

  Nodding, she stepped inside.

  Samuel followed, closing the door and bolting it behind him. “Are you sure I can’t talk you out of staying here tonight?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “After all that’s happened, you shouldn’t be here by yourself.” The determined look in his eye sent a shiver down Jessie’s spine. “You can argue all you want, but I’m not leaving. Whether you like it or not, I’m staying the night.”

  Chapter 10

  The air conditioner clicked before turning itself on. A gentle stream of cool air from the vents in the floor stirred the curtains in the living room windows. The floorboards creaked as they adjusted to the shifting flow. Samuel listened to the house settling itself in the quiet darkness of the night.

  Earlier Jessie had wanted to fix a bed for him in one of the guest rooms. Afraid he might not hear an intruder if they broke in, he’d refused, telling her he would prefer sleeping on the couch. Now, nestled in the heart of the house, he felt restless, unable to sleep.

  His insomnia was caused by more than just his concern for Jessie or being in a strange house, he realized. There was something about Gull’s Cottage that made him uneasy. Despite its beauty, the house felt dark, forbidding. It was as though the ghosts of the past still walked its floors.

  Samuel frowned. Impatiently he shook off the morbid thought. He’d be of no help to Jessie if he became mired down in the events of the past. He had to distance himself from his own feelings. He had to remain objective. Closing his eyes, he tried to empty his mind, willing his body to relax and, hopefully, give in to sleep.

  Until a cry startled him.

  His eyes flew open. Abruptly he sat up from his place on the couch, tossing the sheet aside. He heard it again, a soft mewling sound of pain. A sound that caused an icy finger of fear to stroke his spine. It took him a moment to register where the cry had come from…Jessie’s bedroom.

  Wearing only a pair of jeans, no shirt and no shoes, he scrambled off the couch and hurried down the hall. His bare feet padded against the smooth pine floor. He nearly slipped in his haste as he turned the corner to her room.

 
The door was partially open. Pale light shone from the adjoining bathroom, casting a soft glow across the room. He pushed the door open and saw no movement, except for Jessie tossing and turning in her bed.

  She was having a nightmare.

  Hesitating, he watched from the doorway, uncertain what to do next. Jessie had told him of her dreams. She’d said she believed them to be memories, her subconscious retrieving the past. But she hadn’t told him of the force with which these dreams struck. He had no idea how deeply they affected her.

  Jessie moaned and jerked in her sleep. But still she did not come fully awake. Her face was etched in so much pain, so much fear, it hurt him to watch.

  Quietly he stepped into the room as he debated what to do. If he woke her, he would feel as though he was invading her privacy. Earlier Jessie had been reluctant to allow him to stay the night. He’d seen the hesitancy in her eyes and knew its cause. There was a sensual attraction that sizzled between them whenever they were close. With such volatile feelings brewing beneath the surface, he knew he and Jessie were skirting temptation by spending an entire night alone. It was only at his insistence that she had finally relented. Now he had no intention of taking advantage of her trust in him.

  Jessie flailed an arm, splaying her fingers in front of her face, as though trying to ward off an invisible attack. Samuel fisted his hands at his sides, clenching and unclenching them in frustration. How in the hell could he turn around and leave her, knowing she was in trouble?

  When she cried out in her sleep, a cry of pure terror, his decision was made. He had no choice but to help her. Samuel closed the distance between them. Before he could reach her, however, she sat up in bed and screamed.

  He froze. His heart stuttering, he called out her name. “Jessie…”

  Breathing heavily, her breasts rose and fell against the knit fabric of her nightshirt. Her eyes were wide open, but he wasn’t sure she could really see him. She looked dazed, as though her thoughts were somewhere else, not in this room.

  Moving closer, he started to reach out to her, then stopped. He was too afraid of startling her. Once again he said her name. “Jessie…”

  Her eyelashes fluttered. She blinked as though trying to bring her surroundings into focus. When she spotted him standing in the center of the shadowy room, she flinched. Cowering in fear, she scrambled to the opposite side of the bed. Her bare legs became tangled in the bedsheets. In her panic she nearly fell to the floor.

  “No, Jessie, don’t…it’s me, Samuel,” he said, his tone desperate. Dammit, he’d wanted to help her. But he’d only made things worse.

  At the sound of his voice she stopped fighting, her body momentarily relaxing. Then, clutching the sheet in her hand, she turned and stared at him. “Samuel?”

  “Yes, it’s me.” Slowly he approached the bed. “You were having a dream.”

  Drawing in a choppy breath, she shook her head. “No, not a dream…a nightmare. The same nightmare that I’ve had all of my life.”

  In the soft glow of the light from the bathroom, he saw her trembling. Her dark hair was mussed. Her eyes were wild with fear. He wanted to take her in his arms and protect her from the demons that haunted her. Instead he stood awkwardly at her bedside, not allowing himself the pleasure of holding her.

  “You want to tell me about it?”

  “No, n-not yet.” She shuddered. “I just need a moment.”

  He nodded, then glanced around the room, searching for something to do, some way to help alleviate her distress. “Can I get you anything? A drink of water, maybe?”

  “No…no, thank you.” Self-consciously she glanced down at herself. Tugging on the hem of her nightshirt, she covered her exposed thighs, looking embarrassed at being caught in such a state of disarray. “I—I’m sorry I scared you. With you in the house, I didn’t think I’d—”

  She stopped, letting the words drift.

  “That you’d have the nightmare?” Samuel finished. Cautiously he sat down on the edge of the bed. To his relief she didn’t object to his closeness. “You told me it was the same dream you’ve had since you were a child. That you think it’s a memory from your past. If you talk about it, maybe it’ll make it easier to understand.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, looking as though the mere thought terrified her. “It’s so jumbled…so confusing.”

  “Start at the beginning. Tell me what triggers the dream.”

  She was quiet for such a long time Samuel thought she’d decided not to answer. But then, in a tone so soft he had to strain to hear, she said, “Voices.”

  “Voices? Whose voices?”

  She shook her head, her brows furrowing in frustration. “I don’t know. They’re so loud and angry, I— I’m not sure who they belong to.”

  “But you hear the voices,” he prompted her.

  “Yes, I’m asleep, but they wake me. I’m scared, but I still get out of bed and go toward the sound.” She paused to raise a trembling hand, brushing the disheveled locks of hair from her eyes.

  Samuel didn’t say a word, too afraid to push her. He waited, letting her continue at her own pace.

  She stared straight ahead, as though looking at an image which only she could see. “I’m in the hallway, here, in Gull’s Cottage.”

  He frowned. “Gull’s Cottage? Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. The pictures, my mother’s watercolors. They’re in my dream, just like they are now. Only everything seems different, the proportions are off. The rooms seem bigger, more threatening.”

  “Could it be because you’re smaller in your dream?”

  She glanced at him, looking surprised.

  “Jessie, if it is a memory,” he reminded her, “then you would have only been five years old when it happened.”

  A long shiver shook her body. She folded her arms around her waist, hugging herself tight. “I…I suppose it’s possible.”

  “What else do you remember?” he said softly, encouraging her to continue.

  She hesitated, considering her answer. “I remember being scared as I walked down the hall. More scared than I’ve ever been in my life. The farther I go, the louder the voices get…and they’re so angry. Then I’m in the kitchen. It’s dark, very dark. But I know it’s the kitchen, because I see the outline of the cabinets and the pans hanging from the ceiling. Suddenly there’s a light…a bright beam of light. It blinds me, and I…I can’t move.”

  The pitch of her voice rose with each word she spoke. Samuel saw the fear in her eyes, and he allowed himself to reach out to her. Taking her hand, he squeezed it gently. “It’s okay, Jessie. I’m right here.”

  Clinging to him, she drew in a shallow breath, struggling to calm herself. “I see a shape behind the light. It’s stepping out of the shadows. It’s large and frightening, and it keeps coming closer and closer. I try to move back, but I can’t go any farther. And then—then everything goes dark….” Her grip tightened. He felt the tremors racking her body. In a weak voice she whispered, “That’s it, that’s all I can remember.”

  He gave her a moment to collect herself before pressing her for details. When she was calmer, he said, “You said the shape stepped out of the shadows. Was it a person?”

  “I—I’m not sure.” She stared at the wall, straining to see something that wasn’t there. “It would almost have to be. It was too big for an animal.”

  “Can you see anything else? A face? A hand? Anything that might help identify the person?”

  “No, nothing,” she said, shaking her head in frustration. She was trembling so hard Samuel was afraid she’d reached the breaking point. “I’m trying, Samuel. But I just can’t remember.”

  “It’s okay, Jessie. We’ve gone far enough for one night.” Samuel rose to his feet. Plumping the pillows at the head of the bed, he said, “Just sit back and try to relax. I’ll get you a drink.”

  Jessie scooted back against the pillows. She looked pale and fragile, smaller somehow in the big wrought-iron bed, as though sh
e were pulling protectively inside herself.

  Wondering if he’d pushed her too far, he strode into the bathroom. A glass was by the sink. He filled it with cold water and returned to the bedroom. Holding her shaking hand in his until he knew she had a firm grip, he stood by her bed and watched as she sipped the cool drink.

  After a moment she placed the glass on the bedside table. With a strained smile she said, “Don’t look so worried, Samuel. I’ll be fine.”

  He nodded, shifting restlessly. Not ready to leave, but knowing he must. “Well, then…I’d better get back to the living room, let you try to get some sleep.”

  Turning, he took two steps toward the door.

  But Jessie stopped him.

  “Samuel, wait,” she said quietly.

  He swung around to look at her, his brows raised in a silent question.

  Jessie hesitated. She sat up, the bedcovers slipping to her waist. Guiltily he caught a glimpse of the slender curves outlined beneath the soft fabric of her nightshirt and felt his pulse quicken. She licked her lips, looking nervous. Such an innocent gesture, and yet…

  Awareness struck like a sledgehammer to his gut. Samuel felt winded, pulled under by an unexpected wave of desire. Ill-advised or not, he wanted her. He’d never needed to feel the closeness of a woman as much as he did Jessie.

  Oblivious to his battle with desire, she said, “I know this sounds presumptuous…but would you mind staying? Just for a little while, until I fall asleep?”

  He stared at her for a long moment, not trusting himself to speak, wondering if she knew what it was she was asking of him. Finally, swallowing hard, he said, “Of course I don’t mind.”

  She scooted over, making room for him in the bed.

  And Samuel nearly moaned out loud.

  Gritting his teeth, he struggled with his flagging willpower. Jessie was asking for comfort, not romance, he warned himself. Instead of thinking of his own needs, he should be thinking of hers. Instead of lusting after her body, he should be considering ways to protect it.