“Two Archers,” she whispered, dazed as she laid her head against her arm once again, wondering why she kept seeing two of him when she knew there was only one. Archer didn’t even have a brother, let alone a twin.
“Archer, I don’t feel well,” she whispered, suddenly terribly frightened of the disorientation she couldn’t seem to shake.
“Ambulance is on its way, Cami.” His hands clasped her face, forcing her to tilt her head back as the room swam around her and pure agony raced through her temples, her eyes, shooting to the back of her neck.
She tried to swat at his hand, to scream, but all that came out was a weak whimper. “Rafer.”
“It’s Archer, Cami. Fuck, where is that ambulance?”
Who was he talking to? Please, not Martin Eisner. Martin would tell her uncle, and her uncle and Aunt Ella would rush over.
Ella would fuss over her.
Her mother used to fuss over her.
Uncle Eddy would threaten to kill the bastard, and he would mean it.
She needed Rafer.
“Archer.” She couldn’t hold her head up, could barely breathe enough to force out a single word: “Rafer.”
She could see the darkness edging in on her vision.
“Did Rafer do this, Cami?” Shock, fury, it all filled his voice.
Why was he so angry? Rafer had slipped into her bedroom. She had tried to tell him they couldn’t do this. They couldn’t slip around, and he didn’t listen to her any more than her own body did.
She could hear someone else beyond her vision, yelling about Rafer.
She tried to shake her head.
“Get Rafer,” she whispered. “Have to tell—”
She had to tell Rafer. She had to warn him.
“Cami, answer me, damn you!” Archer was yelling at her. Archer had never yelled at her. “Cami, did Rafer do this?”
She needed Rafer. There were too many voices screaming in her head. Or was that around her head?
The darkness was coming closer, closer. And she had to warn Rafer.
“Warn Rafer—,” she could barely whisper. It was a breath of a sound, the last of her energy before she faced nothingness.
Oh God, was this how Jaymi had felt when she died? Could Cami feel that complete absence of being before she left the world? She sobbed, crying out for the hell her sister must have endured and terrified of facing it herself. Of being unable to avoid it and unable to force herself away from it.
That dark, icy nothingness closed over her, like a freezing, merciless veil of ice. There was nothing comforting, nothing gentle, about it. It was terribly frightening, dragging her into it as she fought helplessly to retain consciousness, to warn Rafer.
Someone needed to warn Rafer.
* * *
Dawn was rolling over the mountains when Rafer finally gave up the battle to sleep, rose, showered, and dressed for the day. He was putting on coffee when Logan and Crowe made their way from their rooms, their distinctly irritated looks directed straight at him.
“I didn’t wake you,” he informed them both as he set out enough cups for the three of them.
“We didn’t say you had,” Logan growled, definitely testy. He never had cared much for early mornings.
“Then what are you doing awake?” Rafe poured the coffee.
“Hell if I know, probably because you’re awake,” Crowe grunted as he hitched the loose cotton pants he wore a little closer to his hips and scratched at his bare, scarred chest.
God, Rafe wished Crowe would wear a shirt. The sight of those scars on his chest and back was too much for Rafe to bear to look at. But saying anything to Crowe, pointing it out, or reminding him of it wasn’t always a good idea. Though how he could forget about it Rafe had never understood.
Logan plopped down in the seat across from Rafe, the gray running shorts he wore riding almost as low as Crowe’s pants as he yawned and scratched at the side of his rough jaw. The closely cropped beard, a shade or two darker than his hair, was never completely shaved free of his face. Unlike Crowe, Logan preferred to hide his scars.
The mementos they had from their teenage years sucked.
Rafer didn’t carry physical scars; he instead carried the mental scars. None of them had escaped unscathed from the hatred and merciless need for revenge that had been exacted on each of them in one form or another.
“We have two investors coming in day after tomorrow,” Crowe reminded them both as he sipped at the coffee. “Do you think we could get a cook out here or something?” He looked around the kitchen with a look of hope.
Poor Crowe, he’d gotten used to breakfast the short time he’d been in Boston with Ryan’s family.
Ryan Calvert, the lost Callahan brother, had been adopted by a family in Boston while his older brothers were in the military. He hadn’t found the family forced to give him up until well after his brothers’ deaths. But he’d been there in time to save the nephews he hadn’t known he’d had.
“I doubt it,” Rafe told Crowe, sipping at his coffee as he rose from the chair again and paced to the kitchen window.
“What the fuck are you looking for, Rafe?” Logan finally burst out. “You did that half the night, until we went to bed, and now you’re starting that shit again. Are you on speed or something?”
Hell if Rafe knew what was wrong with him.
He kept expecting … something. Someone.
Cami. And the thought of Cami had a chill tearing up his spine. Son of a bitch, he couldn’t figure out what the hell was wrong.
Rafe stared down the road again, his brows drawn into a frown as he tried to put together the pieces of what was making him so crazy.
Not that the nerve-wracking emotions made sense, but he’d learned a long time ago not to expect anything in Corbin County to actually make sense. Because it wasn’t going to happen.
And nothing concerning Cami ever made sense.
One thing was for sure, though; he had to see her. Just as fast as he could get there, he suddenly thought. Back door, front door, slipping through the basement window, it didn’t fucking matter. He should have gone last night. He should have turned around the second this feeling had hit him like a punch in the gut.
Hell, he should have never returned to the ranch last night. What he should have done was headed straight to her house, slipped in, crawled into that big bed beside her, and fucked her until they were both exhausted. Maybe then he could have slept. One thing was for damned certain, he wasn’t sleeping now. And he wouldn’t sleep until he got to her. Until he assured himself she was okay.
It was that thought. That feeling that suddenly had adrenaline surging through him and his body tensing to rush to dress and leave.
As he started to turn from the window he glimpsed a flash of black and orange amid the newly budding trees and paused until the vehicle came into view.
What the hell was going on? Why was Archer Tobias arriving in his official SUV. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be a good thing. It never had been before when the sheriff had shown up. Though, Rafe had to admit, Archer was a damned sight better sheriff than his father had ever even considered being.
“Sheriff’s here,” he told his cousins quietly as that feeling of panicked need, that urge to hurry and get to Cami intensified.
Immediately Logan and Crowe were up and moving.
They didn’t bother racing to their rooms to dress. They snagged the jeans, T-shirts, socks, boots, and jackets they kept in the boot room just for such times. Those times when they were too lazy to dress and could have regretted it.
