Читать книгу Hot Sex Stories Made Easy - Speedy Publishing - Страница 47

Chapter Eight

“Anders? Anders, please answer…” Bernard called again into the small handheld unit. It had been three hours since he’d last heard anything from Carson Hill Ranch. Both of his foremen paced around the small living space of the RV, their faces creased with worry as they tried to avoid bumping into each other as they paced. Terry bit nervously at a hangnail as he walked, not looking at his boss, too upset by the desperate look on the old man’s face as he tried yet again to talk to his son.

“It could be anything,” Dwayne said in his most reassuring voice. “Maybe the battery ran down on it. Maybe there’s a storm back home and the satellite’s not picking up, just like with the TV when it rains too hard. You can’t know why he’s not answering.”

Bernard ignored their attempts to make him feel better, certain that something was horribly wrong. Joseph sat next to his father without speaking, his leg bouncing up and down so hard underneath the table that the pens and papers moved around its surface. No one seemed to notice or care.

“All we can do is wait ‘til Carey gets back and reports in with some news,” Dwayne continued kindly. “There’s no sense letting it eat at you until we know something for sure.”

“How’s this going to affect the cattle drive, Boss?” Terry asked, trying hard not to seem uncaring, but needing some clarification about their jobs. They had 30,000 head to move and were now short Carey, as well as Casey. Regardless of what the vacationers wanted to do, there was the very real consideration of selling the herd and if they didn’t arrive on time, there’d be some angry brokers to deal with down the road.

“I just don’t know, Terry. I can’t even think about that right now. What if something happened?” Bernard asked without really speaking to anyone, staring at the useless phone in his hand as if it had betrayed him.

“Boss,” Dwayne said firmly, coming over to sit down across from the old man. “I know everything’s gonna be fine. There’s some explanation for this, and we’re all gonna laugh about how this gave you another patch of gray hair. I know he’s gonna be okay. They all will.” Bernard smiled and reached a weathered hand across the table to grasp Dwayne’s in his own.

“Thank you. I just wish I had half the confidence you have. All I have is a really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I never should have left Anders behind. And all those staff members, I basically left an unarmed crew of women and a sickly teenage boy to fend for themselves against a dangerous, desperate man.”

“Hey, now,” Dwayne argued, trying to lift Bernard’s spirits. “my wife is a member of that ‘crew of women’ and I feel for any man, dangerous or not, who tries to get in that house with her around. She’s gonna look after Anders, and the rest of ‘em, too. You’ve known Amanda as long as I have, and I’ll tell you what, I almost feel sorry for Crazy Mack!” The foreman smiled at Bernard, putting aside his own fears for his wife for a moment, long enough to reassure the old rancher.

“Yes, I know what a spitfire Amanda is. Thank you, Dwayne. And I’m sorry I put your family in this situation.” Bernard looked even more morose than before, realizing how selfish he must have sounded for worrying only about his own son when it was his staff members’ families who were in harm’s way as well.

“You didn’t do anything, sir, it’s all that nutcase’s doing. We’re all gonna be just fine, and this will be just one more story for us to tell around the fire at the end of the day. ‘Course, by the time it gets out, we’ll have a great yarn to share, with all kinds of antics and super-sized whoppers to go with it. You’ll see, it’s gonna be fine.”

Dwayne stood and patted Bernard firmly on the shoulder before making his way out of the RV. He climbed down the metal steps and managed to get a hundred yards or so away from the truck and the rest of the group before breaking down, squatting down in the dirt and putting one hand over his moist eyes.

“Dear Lord, please let them be okay…please let Amanda be okay…”

***

Carey and Amy arrived at the ranch—thanks to the final patrol cars that led them speeding across various county lines—just before dusk turned to night. Every light in the house must have been on, as light shone from every window that wasn’t boarded up with pieces of lumber the sheriff sent out from town. The exterior flood lights were on at every corner of the house, ensuring that anyone who came up in the yard would at least be seen, if not prevented from getting closer altogether.

Carey cut the engine to the truck as close to the house as he could, telling Amy to stay in her seat and duck down until he came around to her side. She might be the officer here but he was the cowboy, and no cowboy would let a woman run out into what could easily be sniper fire from a deranged, vengeful troublemaker.

He opened her door and helped her down, then threw an arm around her head and shoulders and led her hunched over into the main house. The door was locked, and he fumbled with the key from his belt for a moment, his nerves almost getting the best of him as he turned it.

“Anders! Anders! Where are you? ANDERS!” Carey shouted, running from room to room, calling out for his brother. He ran up the stairs and looked in all the bedrooms, yelling for anyone who might still be there. Amy stood by helplessly, looking around her from where she still stood in the doorway. A flash of shadow passing under the kitchen door caught her attention.

“Carey! Down here!” She called out, waiting with one hand on the stair railing for him to come downstairs. Together, they approached the kitchen door, Carey sucking in a deep breath when Amy pulled a handgun from a holster under her pants leg. His eyes grew wide as he pointed wordlessly to the gun, but Amy only shrugged.

“There’s no need to be quiet, anyone in the kitchen already knows we’re in here,” she said. Amy used the butt of the handgun to knock on the kitchen door, then announced them. The door opened a crack, then was flung open as Anders rushed out and into his brother’s arms. Carey heard the click of the safety re-engaging as Amy pulled the gun back to shoulder height before slipping it back in its holster, hopefully before Anders had a chance to see it.

“Carey, I’m so glad you’re here,” Anders began, his voice cracking a little bit from the emotion. He was obviously rattled, and grateful to have someone older and more experienced to take over being in charge. “I didn’t know what else to do, so we’ve all just stayed holed up in the kitchen since last night. I figured it’s where the food and water is, and there’s a hallway to a bathroom. We even slept in there so we could duck between the refrigerators if Mack came back shooting.”

“Anders, you’re absolutely brilliant. That’s exactly what you should have done. Way to take charge, little brother!” Carey said reassuringly, pulling his younger brother into his oversized hug and patting him firmly on the shoulder. The staff members who emerged from the kitchen smiled at the touching scene between brothers. Anders seemed visibly relaxed now that his big brother was home, but his face was still creased with worry lines.

“So what do we do now?” Anders asked, looking from his brother to the missing front windows.

“I’m not really sure. Dad just wanted me to get back down here. You guys can all take upstairs bedrooms tonight and sleep in real beds, and I’ll stay awake down here. Go ahead and start rotating through the showers, too, while we’re all awake.” He patted Anders on the back and pushed him gently in the direction of the stairs so he could go clean up. After the kitchen staff and housekeeper had trudged wearily up the stairs, Amy approached Carey and melted into him when he pulled her tight against his chest.

“A gun? Really? In your boot?” he teased, kissing her quickly on the lips between each question. “Isn’t that a little cliché, even for a big city cop?”

Amy returned his kiss before answering. “Well, we’re technically never off duty, even though I’m not in my jurisdiction. But Detroit teaches you to be ready for anything, whether you’re a police officer or not.”

“Why don’t you go upstairs and pick out a bed before everyone snags the ones with the good pillows?” Carey suggested. “I’m going to grab some blankets from the closet and fix up one of the couches down here but I’m sure I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Not a chance, cowboy,” Amy said, shaking her head and smiling ruefully. “This is practically a stake-out. You think I’m willing to miss this? I haven’t seen this much action from behind my desk in ages, I’m not about to sleep through it.”

“Somehow, I didn’t think you were going to,” Carey added. “even before I actually suggested it! So, if you’re not going upstairs to sleep…” He left his sentence hanging as he leaned down to kiss her slowly, letting his lips linger on hers before raising an eyebrow and giving Amy a smoldering look. “…what did you have planned? Hmm?”

“Well, I was thinking…” she whispered in a seductive voice, letting her eyelids fall until she peered up at Carey through her lashes. “that I would take the first watch as you slept.” She kissed him again, then teasingly added in a sultry way, her lips almost touching his. “Then, I could sleep while you stayed up.”

Carey laughed at her playful game, kissing her once and nodding his head. “That sounds like a good idea. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep first? I don’t mind staying up.”

“No, you did the last part of the driving. I’m good and rested. But before you crash, are you familiar with this kind of gun? I’ll pass it off to you when I go to sleep.” Amy watched Carey’s face for any reaction, prepared to explain why it would be necessary. Carey took her firearm and felt its weight in his hand turning it over.

“Yup, we all have to carry them out here on the ranch in case of animal attack. I was only giving you a hard time about your holster earlier. I usually wear one just like it. Not in my boot, of course, that’s a new one for me, just on my belt.” He kissed her one last time and hugged her tightly, then sent her off in the direction of the showers as well, pointing to his bedroom door and telling her she could get some clothes from his closet to change into while he retrieved their bags from the truck.

As the household, or what was left of it with the drovers and crew gone, settled in for some much needed sleep, Amy kept watch in a chair by the window, walking the interior of the house from time to time to check for anything out of place. She doused the lights to keep anyone outside from seeing in, and checked the locks on each door and window as she passed. Instead of feeling tense at this position of being in harm’s way again, she felt oddly at home, like she was doing the job she was meant to be doing instead of the job she’d reluctantly taken after being shot in the line of duty. This was what being a cop felt like again.

She checked on every sleeping person, too, walking carefully between the beds in the upstairs room to make sure that everyone was still in place. As she moved from room to room on the second floor, the sound of breaking glass followed by a sharp thud made her spring into action. She reached the landing at the top of the stairs just as Carey woke up and began screaming.

The flames that had been launched through the window with the homemade Molotov cocktail splashed across the antique rug in the living room, sending its fiery liquid searing over Carey’s flesh. She flew down the stairs and dragged him to the floor, smothering him with the blanket he’d been sleeping under.

“Get up!” Amy yelled after nothing more than smoke came from Carey’s clothes. “Help me roll up this rug!” They shoved the furniture out of the way and began rolling the rug in heavy turns as the fire licked at their hands and faces. Once fully rolled, they stomped on the center of the tube-shaped rug to put out any remains of the burning gas. Finally, they dragged it into the kitchen where it wouldn’t catch the hardwood floor if it was still burning, letting it rest on the cold tile floor, close enough to the sink where it could easily be doused with water.

The others ran down the stairs at the sounds of screaming, and Amy directed Anders to call Sheriff Matthews. He ran to comply as Meg retrieved several small bags of ice from the kitchen for Carey’s burns. She handed them off to Carey and a look of horrified guilt crossed his face when he touched her own-bandaged hand. Meg smiled feebly, telling him it was okay.

“How bad is it?” Amy demanded, her voice shaking a little now that the adrenaline that threw her into motion was beginning to wear off. “Let me look.” Instead of turning on the overheard lights and letting their attacker know where they were all congregated, she had Meg hold a flashlight over the bright pink skin that was already beginning to blister in places, bits of blackened, charred skin showing through where the chemicals had burned the hottest.

Anders returned with the phone in his hand just as Amy finished putting a loose dressing over Carey’s injured arm, dabbing a bit more burn cream on the spots that ran down his cheek and his collarbone where burning drops of liquid had scorched his skin. Anders swayed slightly, looking sick when he saw the burned skin but he managed to sit down solidly before falling. The smell of burning fuel and melted carpet fibers made him start to cough and wheeze slightly.

“He needs some fresh air,” Carey cautioned the others, sitting up in concern as his younger brother gasped for air. “This smoky room isn’t good for him. Take him to another room, and get his inhaler!”

“We’ll go upstairs and open a window just a little bit,” the housekeeper offered. “We won’t open it much, but I’ll have him sit on the floor so he can breathe it in.” The staff went with Anders to an upstairs bedroom, shutting the door behind them to keep the burning smell and smoke from following them in. Carey turned his attention back to Amy, who continued to dab ointment over his burns.

“You know, I think you just wanted to get my shirt off me,” Carey joked faintly, wincing as she pressed down too hard in one spot above his collarbone. “I mean it, if that’s what you wanted, all you really had to do is ask.”

“I’ll remember that for next time,” she managed to say, trying not to tear up at the obvious pain she was causing him. “I hope I won’t need anything as terrifying as a fire bomb to get you undressed in the future.”

“And I hope that’s not what it takes to get you to put your hands on me,” he surprised himself by saying. Amy’s eyes met his and she blinked back the tears, grateful that Carey could make jokes at a time like this, and even more so that he could make a pass at her, too. It meant he was probably okay.

“Try and stop me, cowboy,” she said with a wicked grin, more to ease her own nerves than Carey’s pain-ravaged ones. “But for now, you need to take these.” Amy held up a small bottle of pain pills from the first aid kit, and held out her bottle of water.

“No, it’ll make me fall asleep,” he protested. “Someone has to stay awake with you. And then there’s Anders upstairs still coughing…”

“The sheriff will be here soon,” Amy argued. “Now, you get some rest. I’ll wait for him.”

Carey nodded grimly, knowing that Amy was making sense. “Fine, I’ll take these, but not for another twenty minutes. That means I’ll be falling asleep right around the time the sheriff gets here.”

“You are incredibly stubborn, you know that?” Her words were meant to scold him, but Carey could tell there was a softness underneath that was all for him. He nodded, trying not to grimace in pain but failing when the raw nerves suddenly flared up again beneath the skin. “Now are you ready to take them?”

Carey finally nodded, giving in as a sheen of pain-induced sweat covered his injured skin, its saltiness further aggravating the burning feeling. He downed two of the pills and handed the bottle back to Amy. She felt helpless watching him cradle his arm, but knew better than to touch him and risk hurting him even more.

“Hey, why don’t you tell me a story? You know, to take your mind off it?” She suggested brightly.

“What kind of story?” He asked, catching his breath.

“I don’t know. What’s your favorite thing about the ranch?” Amy asked, keeping him talking. “Tell me what you like best about living here.”

“All the beautiful scenery,” he said softly, letting his eyes lose focus for a second. “There’s just so much…pretty…out here.”

“Nice try, mister, but stay with me here. Those pills haven’t kicked in yet, this is your own brain doing the zoning in and out. Hey! Snap up!” Amy snapped two fingers near Carey’s ear, making his eyes come back into focus. She knew he was falling out, mostly from the stress of a long day and the long drive, the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. She knelt on the floor next to the couch near where his head sank against his pillow, then kissed him softly, avoiding touching any of the angry patches of burnt skin. He kissed her back longingly but during their kiss, he drifted off, his mouth going slack beneath her lips as he finally stopped feeling the pain.