Page 44 of Peril in Piney Woods

He was right. What had she been thinking? Reality slammed into her like a bucket of icy cold water splashing over her body.

You need him disabled.

Meg blinked. “Yes.” She kissed him hard on the mouth until his resistance melted away. Her fingers went to his zipper again, and she slowly lowered it. He reached around her, unfastened her bra. She gasped. He dragged it down her arms and tossed it aside. Then his hands closed over her breasts. Her body seized with pleasure.

She moved his jeans down his hips, purposely leaving his boxers in place—as difficult as that task was. She so wanted to feel that part of him too. She lowered to her knees, and his eyes closed as if he couldn’t bear to watch. Tugging his jeans down, he lifted first one foot and then the other so that she could pull them free.

When she stood once more, she ushered him down onto the bed. She straddled his waist, immensely grateful she still wore her jeans. She slid her palms over his chest, leaned down and caught his lower lip between her teeth.

He massaged her breasts, tugged one toward his mouth. She cried out, barely held on to her wits. While he focused on driving her crazy with his mouth, she grabbed the handcuffs, quietly fastened one to the vintage iron headboard. He stilled, looked up at her, but she didn’t give him time to react. She snapped the other cuff onto his left hand.

Then she kissed her way down his chest to distract him from what she’d just done. When his eyes closed once more, she quickly climbed off him, off the bed and stepped back.

Distracting him with the promise of sex was low. No question about that, but it had been necessary.

She grabbed her bra and put it back on.

His languid expression shifted to one of wariness. “What’re you doing?”

“You’ll be glad I did when all this shakes down.”

“What the hell?” he growled as he sat up and attempted to tug free of the headboard.

God, she had never seen that much of him. His body was pretty perfect. She almost sighed. Instead, she grabbed her tee and yanked it over her head, which she badly needed to get on straight.

“I have to go,” she said, finger-combing her hair. “The sooner I lure Lorenzo’s thugs away from here, the sooner you’ll be safe.”

“You said,” he snapped, “we’d go to the sheriff in the morning.”

She stuffed one foot into a sneaker and then the other. “I lied.” Why pretend? He was no fool.

He yanked at the cuffs one more time. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“No.” She drew in a big breath. “You shouldn’t. I’ve been lying as a way of life for a long time now. It was necessary to my existence.” She turned away, couldn’t bear the look in his eyes. “I’m sincerely sorry that my decision to come to Piney Woods has hurt you and others. I’m sorry you and Jodie and Dottie trusted me and were nice to me. I should never have allowed you to get so close.” The emotion burning at the back of her eyes escalated her frustration. What the hell was wrong with her?

She had to be stronger than this. Smarter. Or they would all end up dead.

“So, you’re just going to run.” The anger in his voice was unmistakable.

“I’m not running,” she argued, her ego bruised. “I’m navigating the coming storm to a different location. Away from you and the people here who I care about.”

“I’m supposed to believe—” he banged a fist against his chest “—you care about me.” He tugged on the handcuff again. “I can’t imagine how you show your deeper feelings for a guy.”

He had no idea just how deep her feelings for him went. Big mistake, Eleanor.

Her mother had always called her Eleanor. Only her dad and her school friends had called her Elle. That life—her real life—felt so far away. She had no one left. She’d abandoned those who hadn’t died. She had thrown herself into her work and ignored all else. She had purposely chosen not to have so much as a goldfish, much less a dog or cat. She’d had nothing and no one who could slow down what she had to do. No one and nothing that would prevent her from taking the next big risk.

One year ago, she had allowed herself to start caring again, to care about another person or thing, like sweet Raymond. Now she had to walk away.

You have to do this...have to do this.

“Disappointment you’ll get over,” she offered. “Dying doesn’t provide that option.”

She unplugged her phone, tossed it and the charger into her backpack. She remembered the binoculars and tucked those into her backpack as well. Then she grabbed Griff’s truck keys. She walked to the door, paused. As difficult as it was, she turned to face him. “I’ll call Ernie in the morning and let him know you’re here and in need of his assistance.” She moistened her lips. “Goodbye, Griff.” She started to turn away again but hesitated. “Take care of Raymond for me.”

“Elle—Meg, wait.”

She couldn’t. She twisted the button on the knob, locking it and then closing the door behind her. He shouted after her, but she kept going, didn’t want to hear his words. She stepped off the porch and slipped into the darkness.

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