Songbird(33)

She went a little crazy in their arms. She twisted and writhed, and through it all they held her. They whispered their love. Kissed her and caressed her as they pounded into her, branding her body with theirs. They possessed her. They showed her all too well who she belonged to and that they belonged to her now.

Higher and higher she soared, and now she knew what they’d meant when they’d told her she’d fly again. In their arms she’d always have the freedom to fly. Here, she was safe. No one could touch her. The nightmares fell away, ripped from her memory and replaced by their absolute love.

“Love you, love you, love you,” she said brokenly. It was all she could say, all she could think.

“Ahh Emmy, I love you too,” Greer said gently as he gathered her close in his arms, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his release.

Behind her, Taggert finally went still. He leaned into her for the longest moment before brushing a kiss across her shoulder. Then he withdrew and stepped away.

Greer rolled with her in his arms until she lay beside him. He was still buried inside her and he made no move to separate himself from her.

“Are you all right?”

She nuzzled his chest with her lips and snuggled deeper into his embrace. “I couldn’t be more all right.”

“Come take a shower with me, Emmy,” Taggert said from the side of the bed. “As soon as we’re cleaned up, I’ll take you back to bed, and you can sleep to your heart’s content.”

“Mmm.”

Greer chuckled and carefully slid out of her body, ignoring her murmured protest. He patted her affectionately on the rear and then rolled away.

“Go take your shower, sweet pea. But hurry. You wore me out, and I sleep better with you in my arms.”

Chapter Fourteen

The murmur of voices woke Emily from the most wonderful dream. Before she opened her eyes, she was content to exist in that plane between sleep and awake, enjoying for once images devoid of blood, pain and death.

When she finally pulled herself away from the veil of sleep, she saw that the sun was already peeking through the curtains and Taggert and Greer were hurriedly dressing a few feet from the bed.

She yawned indelicately and propped herself up on her elbow to stare at the two men who held her heart in their firm grasp.

“I don’t suppose you’re coming back to bed.”

Taggert turned, tucking his shirt into his jeans. An expression of regret crossed his face, and he walked over to where she lay.

“Sorry, baby. We’ve got a fence down and a few cows have already gotten out. We’re heading out with some of the hands to do repairs.”

She yawned again, and he touched her cheek with his fingertips.

“You go on back to sleep. I’ll make sure Buck leaves you something to eat on the stove.”

With a nod, she snuggled back into the covers, keeping her eyes open only long enough to watch them go.

Heavy pressure on her back jerked her from sleep. She lifted her head up, and she tried to turn, but a hand slammed her face back into her pillow.

Her cry was muffled, and then a heavy body lay over her, pushing her further into the mattress.

“Not a word. You make a sound and I’ll slit your throat.”

Shock made mush of her brain. She knew that voice. Who was it? Think, Emily, think, for God’s sake. She could barely breathe. She struggled wildly, but he yanked her arms behind her and quickly tied her hands together.

Fingers snaked into her hair, balled into a fist and jerked her upward. The flat of his other palm slapped across her mouth, stifling the scream she tried to launch. It was then she saw him from the corner of her eye. Rand. Oh my God.

Her eyes went wide, and he yanked her against him as he dragged her from the room. When she kicked at his legs, silver flashed in his hand, and the sharp blade of a hunting knife pressed to her neck.

“You’ll die right here, right now,” he hissed. “Stop fighting me.”

“Why?” she croaked out when his hand relaxed against her mouth.

He tightened his grip once again, ignored her question and hurtled down the stairs, her flopping like a rag doll the entire way down.

“Rand, stop, please,” she gasped when he shoved her out the front door.

“Shut up! Just shut up.”

He pushed her toward his work truck, opened the door and threw her across the seat. Her back landed against the passenger door. He climbed in next to her and flashed the knife once again.

“Why are you doing this? Are you insane?”

She was too stunned to do more than stare at him. Then she realized the stupidity of her inaction and fumbled clumsily for the door handle with her bound hands.

There was supposed to be evil in his eyes, wasn’t there? Something to tell her he was some desperate wackjob. But all she could see was ruthless determination.

He gunned the engine just as she managed to crack the door. He reached over and grabbed her around the neck even as he wrestled with the steering wheel.

“Shut it!” he shouted. “Shut it, or I swear to God I’ll make you suffer. You won’t escape, Emily. Not this time.”

He swerved wildly on his way up the long drive and the door slammed, knocking her forward on the seat. He anchored her against him. When she turned, trying to bite him, he doubled his fist and punched her in the jaw.

She went sprawling. Her head cracked against the dash and her behind slid off the seat, wedging her between the glove compartment and the passenger seat.