love for Sherry.
Maybe, he decided with a dismal ache in his soul, it was time to reveal his pistol. Maybe then they’d both believe him capable of carrying out his threats.
He was sickened by the idea that it had come to this. Sherry was already afraid. The sight of a .357 Magnum would terrify her. When she’d known him—really known—him he hadn’t even hunted. And now he stalked and hid like a predator, and she would see herself as his game. That almost made him want to turn the gun on himself. He’d rather do that than threaten her with it. Still, the sight of the gun might be threat enough to keep her and Madeline from trying some foolish escape that would get them all killed. What did he have to lose, after all? Her trust? His heart sank lower when he silently admitted that he’d lost that eight months ago.
His hand glided down his leg, and he pulled up his jeans, revealing the leather holster strapped to his leg. His hand closed over the small black gun. Sherry’s heavy release of breath, as if she’d expected as much from him, almost made him leave it where it was. But it was for Madeline that he pulled it out and held it in his lap, aimed at his door. A deathly quiet, broken only by the sound of the engine, fell over them for a moment, but he kept his dull, lackluster eyes on the road.
Madeline wilted and dropped her head into her knees, as if a million plans had just been shelved, but Sherry’s eyes grew colder and more determined not to wilt. “What have you turned into?” she asked beneath the roar of the engine.
Clint didn’t allow himself to meet her eyes. “A survivor,” he answered with metallic certainty. “And I’ve had lots of practice.”
Clint tried to harden himself to the harsh pair of blue eyes boring into him with hatred as emphatic as the love he’d known harbored there. It seemed that time stood still as she made her chilling assessment of him, the fear in her eyes not as great as the despair. But until he had them all within the bounds of safety, he could do nothing to change those opinions.
“Where are you taking us?” Madeline asked wearily, as if she had nothing left to lose.
“We’re meeting a friend who can get us safely out of town,” he said. “I called him from your house and punched out a code on his beeper. He’ll be waiting.”
“Wonderful,” Madeline mumbled. “Another one just like you?”
Clint shrugged. “I ought to warn you, Madeline. Sam’ll see the two of you as just another problem to deal with. If I were you, I’d watch what I said when I met him.”
Sherry’s delicate nostrils flared a degree, and she seemed to sit up straighter in the small space allotted her. “If we’re such a problem, then why didn’t you just leave us?”
Clint turned off of the road and started a bumpy journey beneath a thick ceiling of pines that Sherry could see from the floorboard. “I’ve told you why,” he said.
The Bronco stopped, stemming Sherry’s comment, and Clint said, “You can get up now.”
T he scent of honeysuckle and magnolia blossoms filled the air, and the soft, comforting sound of rustling summer leaves and flitting birds played on her senses, calming her heart. Sherry inched up and saw that they had parked in a small clearing surrounded by walls of sweet gums and blossoming dogwood and a forest of towering pine trees. A navy blue van waited opposite them, and the brown-haired man Sherry had seen glimpses of for the past day and a half leaned idly beside it.
“Aw, man!” Sam blurted when he saw the two passengers. “Does this look like some kind of party to you? Nobody told you to bring guests.”
Clint got out of the Bronco and leaned back wearily against it. “I had no choice.”
“Like you had no choice but to leave her office when I told you to stay put?” Sam flared. “Like you had no choice but to play sitting duck without any safeguards at all while I was losing that guy? You pull that again, pal, and I may not show
Maybe, he decided with a dismal ache in his soul, it was time to reveal his pistol. Maybe then they’d both believe him capable of carrying out his threats.
He was sickened by the idea that it had come to this. Sherry was already afraid. The sight of a .357 Magnum would terrify her. When she’d known him—really known—him he hadn’t even hunted. And now he stalked and hid like a predator, and she would see herself as his game. That almost made him want to turn the gun on himself. He’d rather do that than threaten her with it. Still, the sight of the gun might be threat enough to keep her and Madeline from trying some foolish escape that would get them all killed. What did he have to lose, after all? Her trust? His heart sank lower when he silently admitted that he’d lost that eight months ago.
His hand glided down his leg, and he pulled up his jeans, revealing the leather holster strapped to his leg. His hand closed over the small black gun. Sherry’s heavy release of breath, as if she’d expected as much from him, almost made him leave it where it was. But it was for Madeline that he pulled it out and held it in his lap, aimed at his door. A deathly quiet, broken only by the sound of the engine, fell over them for a moment, but he kept his dull, lackluster eyes on the road.
Madeline wilted and dropped her head into her knees, as if a million plans had just been shelved, but Sherry’s eyes grew colder and more determined not to wilt. “What have you turned into?” she asked beneath the roar of the engine.
Clint didn’t allow himself to meet her eyes. “A survivor,” he answered with metallic certainty. “And I’ve had lots of practice.”
Clint tried to harden himself to the harsh pair of blue eyes boring into him with hatred as emphatic as the love he’d known harbored there. It seemed that time stood still as she made her chilling assessment of him, the fear in her eyes not as great as the despair. But until he had them all within the bounds of safety, he could do nothing to change those opinions.
“Where are you taking us?” Madeline asked wearily, as if she had nothing left to lose.
“We’re meeting a friend who can get us safely out of town,” he said. “I called him from your house and punched out a code on his beeper. He’ll be waiting.”
“Wonderful,” Madeline mumbled. “Another one just like you?”
Clint shrugged. “I ought to warn you, Madeline. Sam’ll see the two of you as just another problem to deal with. If I were you, I’d watch what I said when I met him.”
Sherry’s delicate nostrils flared a degree, and she seemed to sit up straighter in the small space allotted her. “If we’re such a problem, then why didn’t you just leave us?”
Clint turned off of the road and started a bumpy journey beneath a thick ceiling of pines that Sherry could see from the floorboard. “I’ve told you why,” he said.
The Bronco stopped, stemming Sherry’s comment, and Clint said, “You can get up now.”
T he scent of honeysuckle and magnolia blossoms filled the air, and the soft, comforting sound of rustling summer leaves and flitting birds played on her senses, calming her heart. Sherry inched up and saw that they had parked in a small clearing surrounded by walls of sweet gums and blossoming dogwood and a forest of towering pine trees. A navy blue van waited opposite them, and the brown-haired man Sherry had seen glimpses of for the past day and a half leaned idly beside it.
“Aw, man!” Sam blurted when he saw the two passengers. “Does this look like some kind of party to you? Nobody told you to bring guests.”
Clint got out of the Bronco and leaned back wearily against it. “I had no choice.”
“Like you had no choice but to leave her office when I told you to stay put?” Sam flared. “Like you had no choice but to play sitting duck without any safeguards at all while I was losing that guy? You pull that again, pal, and I may not show