“What do you want?” she yelled, loud enough to draw them all right to her—she hoped.
It was Benji, she saw when he approached, shotgun hanging at his side. Funny how, even as a silhouette, Benji’s form was more solid than the other Church members’. She’d recognize him anywhere.
“Abigail,” he said, voice low, friendly, in perfect imitation of their fearless leader. “Where you headed?”
“Oh, I’m just going to…” She swallowed. Why hadn’t she come up with a story? No point, was there? “I’m leaving, Benji. Let me go,” she demanded. There’d be no begging here tonight.
She could feel the intensity of his focus, despite the obscurity of his form.
“Over here!” he yelled, and everything ratcheted up. Answering voices and barking, followed by the dull scuff of footsteps. They’d hunted her down. Like prey.
One of the dogs approached, gave her a quick sniff, and then took off toward where Sammy had disappeared, and it was all she could do not to scream,No!
“I’ve got her!” Benji said, his voice rife with masculine pride, and Lord, she wanted to kick him in the face. She held back because that wouldn’t do, would it? And then she decided she didn’t care anymore. If they hadn’t caught Sammy by now, he was free.I’ve got nothing to lose.
Her movements were decisive as she rose to full standing and stepped into Benji’s space. Oh, she loved the uncertainty there once she’d gotten close enough to see. Needing to wipe every ounce of self-assurance right off his face, she lifted her right hand and swung as hard and fast as she could against his cheek.
His stunned grunt and surprised look—eyes big like a raccoon—would have been comical if everything wasn’t so dire.I’d better appreciate this moment, she told herself as Isaiah led the others right up to them.This might be it for me.
She was right, she knew, as Benji’s face tightened in a show of rage right before he shoved her to the ground and kicked her hard in the belly, all under the watchful, benevolent eye of Isaiah. One kick was enough to rid her of all air, then another for good measure. She curled in on herself, a body made of nothing but pain.
Nobody touched her for a minute. She’d just made it to all fours when Isaiah squatted beside her and spoke, voice inflexible and utterly deadly: “Where is Samuel, Abigail?”
When she didn’t answer, he grabbed her by the chin and forced her to look at him. “If he’s gone, we’ll get him back. You know that, right? Just like we caught you, Abigail.” To the group, he said, “Do whatever it takes to find Samuel and bring him home. Whatever transpires tonight is God’s will.” Leaning in, he put his lips to her ear, not quite touching, but close enough for his breath to send goose bumps crawling over her skin. “You had me fooled, all right, little Abigail Merkley. So good at playacting, aren’t you? Honored, you said. It has since been brought to my attention that you want to play God, with medicine and other evils.” He yanked her chin harder, brushing his lips against her as he spoke. “I suggest you make your peace with the Creator tonight, Mistress Merkley,” he whispered. “You’ll have your reckoning in the morning.”
* * *
After a long evening spent working on machinery, Luc would normally have dinner and a drink and go right to sleep. This evening was different, though. Try as he might, he hadn’t been able to fix the goddamn tractor. He had every part he could want, had tried every single thing, and yet nothing seemed to work.
At home, bone weary and exhausted, he couldn’t sleep.
Because of Abby.
He couldn’t lie down without thinking of her. And it made him crazy. He shouldn’t have done what he did with her today. Shouldn’t be thinking of her, much less touching her and…letting her experiment on him.
Because that was what she was doing, wasn’t it? Testing out her newfound freedom on the first man she came across?
Seated in the kitchen, he refocused on the chunk of wood in his hands. Thank God he’d found it. The first good piece sinceGrandpèrehad died. No, it was longer than that. The last time he’d carved anything had been before losing his finger. It was odd working with one less digit.
It was a pointless exercise, carving wood. He wasn’t even sure why he was doing it.
While he carved, his mind wandered—something he hadn’t welcomed much over the past few years, but tonight he’d spent a good chunk of time planning the new field before letting himself think of Abby.
What was it about her that got to him? He didn’t get off on innocence or freshness or whatever it was. No, it wasn’t her innocence, but rather her thirst for experience that he liked. Her desire toobliteratethat innocence.
God, whatever it was, it was dangerous. And while he’d planned to give her more work, he knew that wasn’t a good idea. In fact, he should never have let her in at all.
Too late for that, he thought, more agitated than before. He shifted back into his chair and let his hands continue their work. Wood chips fell from the tiny block, revealing—or rather releasing—the object inside. Whatever that would be. He worked quickly, shaving here and there, until he gouged too deeply and had to consciously slow down.
His self-flagellation was halfhearted in comparison to the memory of today’s exchange. That alone had him hardening. He couldn’t stop thinking about her response to his words and the way she’d thrown herself at him, the way her nipples had pressed against the fabric of that damned dress, ten times more appealing than some lacy lingerie. Shave, turn, shave, turn. His hands continued, despite his mind stuttering to a halt on the thought of lingerie. What did her underwear look like under that thing? Did she even wear any?
Stop it.
Concentrating hard, he focused on the rough texture under his fingers, ignoring the sense memory of her skin beneath his, her mouth plush and hot and open and—
Concentrate, you asshole.
Funny how he’d found this piece of wood. Abby had just disappeared down the slope on her side of the fence when he’d spotted it, right beside his foot. More like stumbled on it. Long and oddly curved—and definitely not from his vines—the chunk appeared to have shown up out of nowhere. He’d ignored it initially, but something about it had called out to him, and he’d grudgingly gone back up the mountain to find it.
