smell her from behind the screen of trees, and he could tell L.J. was equally affected. He was standing there like a statue, no longer trying to drag Ink away.
“Maybe I spoke too soon,” L.J. murmured. “I vote we get a piece of that before we do anything else.”
Ink wanted her, too. He’d never seen tits that could compare to those. His injury meant he couldn’t get an erection anymore, but that hadn’t diminished his desire. He’d find some way to satisfy the craving, even if it was only by watching L.J. ride her. The sight of her made him feel young and strong again, more like himself than he’d felt in a long, long time.
But he had to think this through, figure it out. Could they drag her into the woods without her mother hearing? And if they succeeded, then what?
“I don’t know…” he said.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” L.J.’s voice was tight with desire. “We could take turns. Maybe keep her for a while.”
“And then what?”
“Let her go when we get outta here.”
“No. We can’t. You’re not thinking straight.”
L.J. whirled on him. “What? You gotta throw me a bone. I helped you bust out. You wouldn’t be here without me.”
Ink didn’t like acknowledging that, so he didn’t. “But if we rape her, we’ll have to kill her. Otherwise, she’ll be able to testify against us.”
“Maybe not. Maybe—”
“No maybes. Leaving her alive would be stupid. And, like you said, these people are people who’ll be missed. If she disappears, the sheriff will come knocking on every door up here. Hell, the whole damn community will start combing the area.”
L.J. didn’t respond. His attention had swung back to the girl with the razorlike focus of a mountain lion who’d spotted his first meal after a long famine. A moment before, he’d been so reluctant to harm this family. But the sight of Betty Big Boobs had thrown some sort of switch in his brain, given him fresh incentive to take what he wanted, and nothing else seemed to matter anymore. Not even the kids. That concerned Ink. If L.J. raped this girl, there’d be consequences. They’d have no choice but to run. And he hadn’t found Laurel.
Ink nudged him. “You listening to me?”
“We don’t have to kill her if we cover her head.” He groaned as she bent over to arrange a towel on the chaise. “Her other end is all I care about. Look at that tight, sweet ass.”
There was too much testosterone flooding through him. Ink sensed that he was losing control of his companion. “You think she’s just going to spread her legs and let you have your fun? That she won’t report what happened? Rape will bring the sheriff out here as fast as murder. We gotta let her be.”
“It won’t be rape. She wants it. I can tell. Look at the way she’s teasing us. I bet she knows we’re here. And it won’t take long. It’ll work out, you’ll see.”
This was crazy. Pulling the gun from his waistband, Ink pressed the tip of the barrel to the younger man’s head. “You’d better talk yourself down, little brother.”
“What the hell?” L.J. jerked away.
At his raised voice, the girl looked up, but if she’d heard him she was too engrossed in her telephone conversation to investigate. If Ink had his guess, she’d never had to fear anything in her life, didn’t know she had reason to be scared now.
“I said we’re going to leave her alone!” Ink whispered.
A sulky expression claimed L.J.’s face. “And do what instead?”
“Head back to the last cabin we passed.”
“But we counted the bags in that place! There are three or four guys staying there.”
“Yeah, well, with any luck, some of ’em won’t be guys, right?”
L.J.’s hand covered his heart, as if what he felt was more than lust. “If there’s a woman in the bunch, there’s no way she’s going to look like
“Sometimes you have to take what you can get.”
“When you’re old and lame, maybe,” he muttered, and Ink nearly hit him with the gun. He would have, if he didn’t have to worry about noise.
“I’m going to forget you said that. For now.”
The threat in those last two words finally seemed to give him some leverage. “Oh, come on,” L.J. said. “It was a joke. You can take a joke, can’t you? I’m not going to take any risks.”
“You better not.”
“I won’t! But I don’t know if breaking into that other cabin is any smarter. It’s bad odds. Two against four. Or worse.”
“We’ll have the element of surprise on our side. No one gets back after a long day of hunting expecting an ambush.”
13
A motorcycle sat parked against the side of Vivian’s house. Myles spotted it as soon as he started over with Jake and Mia. While the kids ran in to talk to their mother, he stood outside wondering where the hell that bike had come from. It’d obviously seen a lot of miles. And it was far too big for a woman…?.
Before long, Jake appeared at the door to the little antechamber that led to Vivian’s kitchen. “Hey, you coming?”
“Looks like you have company.” Myles motioned to the bike.
He grinned. “My uncle Rex. You gotta meet him.”
Myles had heard about an uncle Virgil. Just this morning. Now there was an uncle
“Sheriff King?” Jake prodded when he didn’t move.
Despite his curiosity regarding Vivian’s family and her past, Myles felt oddly reluctant to go inside. But he climbed the stairs and followed her son into the kitchen, and there he saw a wiry man about his own height and age sporting a little too much razor stubble to be making a fashion statement. Dressed in a torn T-shirt with the sleeves cut out, some holey jeans and unlaced boots, he was leaning up against the counter and laughing with Mia, who was hugging his leg. When he saw Myles, his eyes narrowed. And that was when Myles knew—this was no family relation.
Vivian had said she’d only slept with two men in her life—her ex-husband and a steady boyfriend. This wasn’t the ex; that was plain. Myles didn’t want to believe it was the boyfriend, either. Not after last night. But the way Vivian refused to meet his eyes suggested otherwise.
Trying to squelch the jealousy that sprang up, Myles forced a congenial smile as Jake ushered him across the room.
“Uncle Rex, this is Sheriff King.”
Determined to be polite, Myles extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Rex glanced at Vivian before responding with a halfhearted shake. “Same here.”
“The sheriff helped me gut my fish,” Jake announced as if Myles had just done something incredible.
Rex considered Vivian’s son. “The law helps with that sort of thing these days, does it?”
“The
Jake tried to explain that a sheriff was “the law.” He caught on to a lot more than most nine-year-olds. But no one else bothered to clarify. From what Myles could see, Vivian was too uncomfortable having him and Rex in the same room to allow herself to be distracted—another indication that Uncle Rex held special, and most likely romantic, significance in her life.
“Least I could do, for a neighbor,” Myles replied with a shrug.
Rex poured himself some coffee. “Nice of you to take the time. Especially since I hear you’re in the middle of
