Threat of Darkness(44)

 Unable to walk around or change his position much without taking the chance of revealing his watchfulness, he fidgeted.

 Sleep encroached, beckoned, tempted him. He shook it off over and over, refusing to yield. “Come on, Sam. Go back into the house and lock the door, will you?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

 Finally, he saw her starting to gather up her cleaning supplies. “About time, woman. That car must be as sterile as an operating room by now.”

 He leaned forward and scanned the empty yard. Nothing was moving except a flock of moths and other night-flying insects that had been drawn to the outside lights.

 John yawned. Stretched. Looked away for a few seconds while he untied his boots and slipped them off.

 The barn went dark. He peered out, expecting to see Samantha walking toward him. His brow furrowed. Where was she? She should be right there, right now.

 Kicking aside the boots, he lunged for the door, threw it open and leaned out. “Sam?”

 She didn’t answer. He stepped down. The hair on his neck prickled a warning and he reached behind him to draw his holdout gun.

 “Samantha!”

 He froze, listening to the chirping of nocturnal insects and the calls of frogs in nearby ponds and gullies.

 Nothing was moving. No one answered him. Whip-poor-wills that had been singing before were now silent.

 The still night air pressed in on him with smothering weight. Then he heard it. A scuffling sound. It only lasted for an instant but it had definitely come from the barn.

 Ruing the fact that he was in his stocking feet he ignored the gravel-strewn driveway as he crossed it. Suddenly, something clanged like the echo of a pail connecting with another metal object. The car?

 John flattened himself against the front wall of the old barn and cupped one hand around his mouth. “Samantha Rochard, if that’s you in there you’d better speak up because I’m armed and I’m about to come in shooting.”

 He heard a gasp, a noisy whoosh of air and a deep voice expressing an opinion that was less than sterling.

 The bucket connected again, only this time with a dull whomp followed by the clatter of it hitting the floor.

 “Sam!”

 “In here!” she screeched. “Hurry! He’s getting away!”

 Taking no thought for his own safety John pointed his weapon to the rafters, dashed through the doorway in a partial crouch and barreled straight toward the sound of her voice.

 She flew into his arms, holding so tightly he could hardly draw a breath.

 He shoved her behind him for protection and stood firm, aiming into the blackness. “Where did he go?”

 “Out the back. I hit him over the head with the bucket when he tried to grab me and he took off.”

 Keeping one arm around her waist, John braced himself for an attack that didn’t materialize. He could see that Samantha’s eyes were wide, even in the dimness of the barn.

 “Aren’t you going to go after him? Shoot him or something?” she asked.

 So relieved he could hardly catch his breath, John shook his head. “Not this time, lady. All I plan to do is get you into the house where you’ll be safe and then notify the station. Again.”

 “Isn’t that why Levi and Harlan put you out here in the first place? Aren’t you the officer on duty?”

 Chagrined, John sighed. “Yeah. I am. And the next time you need me I hope I’m closer at hand than I was tonight.”

 “You must have been watching me or you wouldn’t have known I was in trouble.”

 “Apparently I wasn’t watching closely enough,” John told her while he escorted her to her door. “From now on, where you go, I go, at least when we’re home.”

“Home?”

 “Yes. Home.” He turned to face her. “I seem to have problems concentrating properly when I’m thinking about you. I figure the best way to deal with that is to become your shadow.”

 Seeing her jaw drop for a few seconds before she snapped it closed, he realized that up until now she’d had no idea how much her constant presence had been unhinging him.

 “Really?” It was a breathless question, more whisper than word.

 “Really,” John said.

 He held his ground when she leaned closer. Her face was raised, her eyes misty.

 If she had been merely a needy crime victim he could have easily stepped away from her. But this was Samantha. His Samantha. And she was looking at him as if…

 Sighing, he closed his eyes, surrendered to the urges he’d been fighting for so long, leaned down and kissed her.