“Sure thing. Back in a jiff.” She departed.
He settled back in the booth and seemed to swallow up all the space and the air with it. “You can still say no. Jolene has a heart of gold, but she can be kinda like a nosy mom who loves you but won’t stay out of your business.” Fondness rang in his tone. “I’m Case Marshall, by the way.” He extended a hand.
“Sama—Sammie,” she stammered, and put her hand in his.
Big hand. Long, lean fingers. His warm hand cradled hers gently.
She shivered.
“You got a last name, Sammie? From Louisiana, right?”
She tensed. “How could you tell?”
“I can hear it in your voice…ah, Nawlins. One of my favorite places on earth.”
Abruptly tears pricked at her eyes. Home had never seemed further away.
“You all right?”
She’d felt so alone. His kindness and Jolene’s only made the sense of isolation worse.
“Fine.” She straightened and said in a crisp imitation of her always-dignified mother. “Perfectly fine. And no, I’m not from New Orleans. I’m from…Lafayette.”
She was lying. Case had traveled too much and dealt with too many people not to have a strongly-developed ability to read body language.
She was also scared to death of something. And way beyond tired.
But man, she was a beauty, those witchy blue eyes topped by delicately-arched eyebrows. Long, dark brown hair glowed red-gold like a bottle of Jack Daniels with sunlight pouring through it. The mass of curls made his fingers itch to dive right in, made him picture how it would feel to bury his face in them while he buried himself—
And he was staring.
While she was ready to bolt.
“Here you go,” Jolene said, setting down his coffee and the pie with two forks.
Case sat up straight. “Thanks, Jolene.”
“You sure you won’t have a real meal?” she asked the woman.
“No, thank you.”
Case forked up a bite, but when she didn’t pick up her own utensil, he turned his fork to her. “You have to try this. It’s pure heaven.”
She hesitated…then her mouth opened and her tongue licked over the tines. Her eyes lowered as she savored the taste, her lips lingering, slightly parted, as the fork slid across them.
Holy—Case closed his eyes as his body reacted.
“Mmm…”
He stilled, his fork extended. His eyes followed the undulations of her throat as she swallowed, pleasure blossoming on her face.
He’d never look at coconut cream pie the same after this.
Jolene walked by. “Something wrong with the pie that you’re not eating?”
Case’s brain scrambled. “Uh…no. Fine—it’s fine.”
Jolene looked at him funny. “I’ll check back.”
“Thanks.” He busied himself cutting his own bite.
Though he’d really rather watch her savor another one.
The woman whose name might or might not be Sammie finally took up her own fork but only twisted it in her fingers.
Even in the midst of a noisy room, the silence between them thundered.
“Do you—?”
“Where are you—?”
Their voices chimed in unison, and they halted, awkwardness filling the space between them.
“You first,” he said.
“Do you come here often? It’s…unusual, isn’t it?”
Case grinned. “The owner intended this to resemble a medieval castle.” He glanced around at what he’d long ago quit noticing. Stone and cedar mingled in the interior while outside the place had actual turrets. Roadside diner furnishings sat beneath water-stained, nicotine-browned acoustic ceiling tiles. In the convenience store at the entrance, they sold everything from a complete tool set to tiny ceramic poodles.
“It’s in a class by itself.” She smiled faintly, but her eyes were shadowed. Jolene was right—she looked thin and weary.
“Sure you don’t want something more to eat? My treat?”
“No, thank you. I’m really not—” Her eyes misted. She looked away, battling for composure.
Case watched her struggle with her emotions, unsure what to do. He didn’t have much practice at soothing—shoot, he’d practically invented the term love ’em and leave ’em. He’d been with his share of women in the past, but only the ones who were out for a good time. No way was Case Marshall getting within a mile of a woman who’d reach for his heart.
But this woman’s eyes were filled with fear. Exhaustion he could understand, aggravation, too, even worry. But what kindled most strongly in Sammie’s eyes was terror—why?
Don’t you have enough problems to deal with, fleabrain? Why do you want to know about one more? You’re supposed to be well on your way to the ranch by now. Eat up and get going.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” he found himself asking, anyway.
She studied him, those blue eyes sad and haunted. “I…” Then she closed them and shook her head.
“What? Tell me. I’ll help if I can, but I can’t read your mind.”
Her gaze flew to his, and for a moment he saw hope spark. Then she glanced away. “You said you’re in a hurry.”
“What do you need?” What kind of trouble are you in? He hoped she didn’t say money—he had little to spare. The ranch sucked up every last dime he could make.
She nibbled on that lush lower lip, and he had to tear his gaze away. “My car is a mile back down the road. Could you help me get it started?”
“Is that all?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with it, and I don’t want to delay you.”
“Honey, the engine hasn’t been made that I can’t fix.” He pointed out the window. “See that rig with the red cab right there? That’s mine. You head that way, and I’ll go pay our tab.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“Didn’t you hear Jolene say I’m a nice guy?”
She smiled for the first time. “You called that an insult.”
“Well, yeah. Add that to harmless, and a guy could get a complex.” He grinned at her. “Go on, now, and I’ll be right out. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Don’t call me harmless, and we’ll be square.”
Then she really smiled, and Case was doubly glad she would be gone soon.
Or he could be in real trouble.
Chapter Two
Case stood waiting for his change from the cashier.
A scream split the air.
He looked around quickly, trying to spot Sammie.
When he did, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Instead of being near his truck, she was struggling in the grasp of a man in a dark suit. Definitely not a fellow trucker, not duded up like that.
Weariness vaporized. He abandoned his change and ran for the door.
A second man jumped out of the driver’s side of a nondescript sedan, leaving it standing wide open.
Outside Case spotted a short piece of lumber lying by the side of the building and paused to grab it. As he rounded the pump islands, he saw her manage to loosen one of her arms and drive her elbow right under her assailant’s ribcage. The man, not as tall as Case but solid, cursed loudly as he struggled to keep one hand over her mouth and her arms pinned with his other arm.
His companion laughed, calling out to the stocky man. “Whatsa matter, Ray? You cain’t handle one skinny woman, you?”
Cajun accent. Who were they? Why were they here?
The one called Ray turned thunderous at the insult. He used his huge paw to slap her so hard her head recoiled from the force of the blow.
A murderous rage swept through Case.
He charged the man with a roar.
Sammie went weak with relief when she heard Case shout. The men were from Gascoigne, she could tell from their first words, and she was terrified that they’d caught up to her so fast.
; Her relief was short-lived.
The other thug grabbed her from behind and hauled her toward the car. He squeezed her midriff so hard, air burst from her lungs. She fought against his hold even as dark spots danced before her eyes.
He dragged her to the open car door while she gasped for air, and fear overcame weakness. She couldn’t let him trap her inside. With one last effort, she launched herself to one side, and he lost his balance, hitting the sharp door edge hard.
A grunt of pain, but he never let go.
Then he swung one massive fist and cuffed the side of her head. “You do dat again, chère, and you won’t like the way Frenchy makes you pay later.”
Sammie’s desperation rocketed. She’d been terrorized by Gascoigne’s men once before, and she would never forget the stark understanding of her vulnerability.
To make his point, he ran thick fingers up her right thigh, then jerked her legs apart and shoved his meaty hand between them to cup her.
Revulsion gagged her. She renewed her fight, but his hand only tightened on her most private place. A whimper rose in her throat, and it was all she could do not to panic.
“Get your hands off her!” Case yelled. With a mighty swing of the wood in his hand, Case knocked the one called Ray to the ground, stunning him with a fierce blow to the head. He charged toward her, vaulting over the hood of the car.
Frenchy picked her up and threw her into the back seat of the car so hard she slid across the vinyl and slammed into the passenger door. Pain exploded in her head.
Case was shouting her name, but she was too stunned to make out the words.
He roared again. “Sammie, get up! Get out of the car!”
But she couldn’t move. Nausea swamped her.
“Sammie, now!” The car shuddered as Case slammed Frenchy against the rear panel.
Sammie struggled to right herself. She reached for the door handle, but her fingers wouldn’t grip.
The door opened, and she nearly fell out. Jolene stepped forward and steadied her, lending support when her legs wobbled.
“Case—he’s—” Sammie tried to find him.
Jolene’s tone was gentle. “Sugar, friends are helping him now, don’t you worry. You just stay here with me.”
Her gaze at last settled on him.
Helping was not exactly the word she would have used. Two men restrained Frenchy, and one more knelt on Ray’s back. Two others tried to keep Case from killing Frenchy.
Case cursed loudly and fought both of them. He landed a blow to the gut of one of the men, and two more rushed forward as he started after Frenchy again.
“Maybe we’d better let him see you. It might calm him down.” Jolene drew her around the car toward Case.
“Case?” Sammie ventured. “Case, I’m okay.”
He stilled and looked up. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her.
She took a step toward him—
And folded like a rag doll.
Jolene caught her as she fell.
Case abandoned the others and drew her from Jolene’s grip.
“I’ll call the sheriff,” Jolene offered.
“No!” Sammie started to struggle. “Case, no—please—”
He frowned. “They can’t get away with this,” he said to her. “They need to be locked up.”
“No—please, you can’t—” She clasped his forearm. “I’m begging you.”
Her terror was all too real.
And it had nothing to do with a broken-down car.
Blowing out a breath, he turned to Jolene. “Think you all can detain them so that I can get her out of here? I don’t want them to see what I’m driving or our direction.”
Jolene, experienced at dealing with rowdy customers without benefit of official help, nodded. “You know you can count on me, but don’t you think you two had better see a doc first?”
Panic swept Sammie’s features. “No! Please, can we just leave?”
What the hell was going on? He made a swift decision. “Give me some ice for her face, and we’ll be on our way.”
One of the other waitresses left to fetch some ice. She brought it back, wrapped in a plastic bag with a dishtowel around it.
“Thanks for your help,” he said to those crowded around. “If you can keep this under your hats, I’d sure appreciate it. Too many people talking about this is going to make it easier for them to track her.” He paused. “I don’t like this. They should be made to pay.”
The woman in his arms went rigid. Dug in her nails. “Just let me go and leave this alone, then. Please.”
“Hell if I will.”
“You two go on,” Jolene said. “This is a tight-knit bunch. We’ll keep a lid on it. Gonna be awhile before these two stir, anyway, I’m thinking.”
But he still wanted to kick their asses for abusing this fragile woman.
Who owed him some answers.
“Thanks, Jolene.” Sweeping Sammie up in his arms, he carried her to the truck, favoring his injured right knee. He lifted her gently into the passenger side of the cab, tucking her seat belt around her and arranging the ice pack against her cheek.
In the driver’s seat, he glanced back to see the small crowd huddled around the two thugs lying facedown on the ground. His teeth ground. His adrenaline was still riding high, and he itched to finish the job he’d started.
He looked again at Sammie. Their gazes held in the dim light from the dashboard. Emotion, unnamed but no less powerful, surged between them, making the space suddenly close and intimate. The bloodlust roiling through Case was suddenly replaced by a rush of desire.
Sammie’s eyes darkened.
Neither stirred for the space of a very long heartbeat.
The draw between them crackled.
Then she swayed, and he remembered himself. He cranked his engine. She was hurt, damn it. So was he.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
Case put his hand to his cheek and felt the blood there. “I’ve had worse.”
As he turned to away to drive, his knee throbbed like a sonofabitch, and he bit back a groan.
Sammie placed a hand on his arm. “Shouldn’t you get someone to look at that knee? Just let me leave and you can—”
“No.” What in hell was he thinking? He didn’t need this, any of it. “If anyone’s going to see a doctor, it’s you.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay. Are you dizzy?”
“Just…tired. I’ll be fine.”
Sure you will. She looked so damn sad. So scared.
Rage surged again, and he smacked the steering wheel. “What the hell was that? Who are those guys?”
Her shoulders curled inward. “I’m not sure.”
“Then why let them go? And why would they want to kidnap you?”
She shrank into herself. “You don’t have to get involved. Look, I’m grateful, but—” Defeat rode her features hard.
Chill out. She’s hurt. He faced forward and pulled out of the lot. “Listen, I know I said I’d help you get your car running, but I can’t say how long it might take, and I don’t think stopping so close to here is the best idea, under the circumstances. Is there anyone you can call to take you back to it, once we get further down the road?”
“I’m sorry. You can just drop me off…” Her eyes filled.
“Do you even know where you’re going? Come on, Sammie—tell me what you’re running from.”
“Could I—” She worried at her lower lip. “May I just rest for a minute? Please?”
She looked like a whipped pup. Even though he had a million questions, he didn’t have the heart to push her any harder as she curled against the door.
He exhaled. “A little while, yeah.” He had a good six hours before he got home. He could spare one or two, though what the hell he’d do with her—
“Thank you.”
Those big blue eyes were the saddest thing he’d ever seen. Jesus.
“Get some sleep,” he said gruffly. “Then we
are having ourselves a chat.”
For now he focused on getting them out of their safely.
They drove on through the emerging dawn.
“Where are we?” When she awoke, Sammie’s voice was still muzzy, but she sounded a little less vague. She stretched like a cat, all lithe and sensual, her hair a whiskey tumble down her back. “And where are we going?”
He yanked his gaze away and focused on the road. “We’re on I-20 headed west from Abilene. But I’m asking the questions now.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her tense.
“First, you tell me your real name.” Bad enough he had a ranch barely hanging on by its fingernails and a crooked ex-partner who’d stolen him blind. He didn’t have the luxury of playing Sir Galahad. Every mile that had passed, he’d berated himself for a fool. What did he think he was, some white knight? If he had a lick of sense, he’d just let her go.
She didn’t answer right away as she stared straight ahead, an obvious struggle going on behind that beautiful facade.
He’d never bullied a woman, and he didn’t want to start now. But something was more than a little out-of-whack here, and now he had a personal stake in it, like it or not. Just as he was about to press her again, she spoke.
“St. Claire.” Barely a whisper.
“What?”
“St. Claire. That’s my last name. And Sammie is short for Samantha.”
Okay. Better.
“Now will you tell me where we’re going?” she snapped.
He nearly grinned. Sassy was better than terrified. “My ranch.”
“You have a ranch? Where is it?”
“Near Post, not far from Lubbock. Do you know where that is?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m afraid I’ve never been west of Houston until now.”
“I have a cousin who used to be a detective in Houston. His ranch isn’t that far from mine—at least in Texas terms.”
“So, what, only two or three hundred miles?”
Yep, definitely sassy. He did grin, after all. “Practically next door.” He paused. Time to dig some more. “You’re not from Lafayette, are you?”
The Marshalls Boxed Set (Texas Heroes: The Marshalls Books 1-3) Page 53
