Page 32 of Alien Haven

Behind her, Sara called, “Thanks, sweetie. Come on, James. While I disinfect and bandage this, we’ll have a conversation about those peaches and what happens to thieves.”

* * * *

Charity was nearly to the coop, which was located a few yards behind the house, when a movement at the corner of her eye caught her notice.

Her gaze swung to the barn. Its red presence was a cheerful postcard image, set off by a backdrop of verdant fields and nearby forest. Late afternoon sunlight illuminated the first few feet within its wide entrance. Shadows blanketed the rest of the interior. She was certain she saw a figure draw deeper in the dark.

She paused. Except for the chickens, Clan Amgar didn’t keep animals. They owned no cattle, goats, or horses. The barn’s function was to store produce fresh from the fields until it was sent on to market. It also garaged tools and the hovercarts.

It was close to quitting time, but the fieldhands weren’t due to come in for a few minutes yet. Sara and the kids were indoors. Groteg and Utber were at their respective jobs. Who’d be in the barn? Could it be Detodev, hoping to see her for a private word? Or more likely trying to avoid her.

No. Despite their acquaintance being so brief, she knew Detodev wasn’t the type to slink around in such a fashion. If he’d come to pick up an item needed in the field, he’d have endured her teasing rather than scurrying to hide.

She had the creepy sensation of being watched. She was reminded of her time on Browning Copeland’s battlecruiser,Sword of Truth. The old feeling of unwanted interest crept over her, making her skin crawl.

Back then, she’d had no choice but to put her head down and hurry on her way to escape the hungry stares of disgustingold men rather than confronting them as she’d wanted to. She’d been unable to slap the knowing leers from their stupid faces. The risks to her and her family had been too great.

No longer. If it were some asshole playing peeping tom, she was perfectly within her rights to punch his lights out. Especially if his target wasn’t her, but Sara. Or Tori. Charity’s hackles rose at the idea.

Then again, it could be someone looking to steal from Clan Amgar. They had a lot of tools and components for their field monitors in the barn. The clan did fine financially for themselves, but it didn’t mean anyone could show up and take their belongings. Charity had almost as little use for thieves…excluding mischievous boys hungry for peaches…as for creeps staring at innocent girls or kind women who went out of their way to help others.

No doubt she was overreacting. It was almost certainly a fieldhand she’d seen. Still, it was best to make sure.

She squared her shoulders.Whoever you are, you’d better have a good reason to be in there. If not, be ready to answer to me.

Charity marched to the barn.

Her eyes were in no hurry to adjust from the glare of sunlight to the darker reaches of the barn’s interior. Peering at vague shapes and trying to make sense of them, Charity stepped in the gloom.

“Hey. Who’s in here? Need help finding something?”

At first, silence greeted her. She ventured deeper, her gaze finding a nearby shovel. So old-fashioned, these farm tools. Also handy if she needed to take a swing at someone. She slowed her advance, creeping more cautiously forward to reach grabbing distance of the shovel.

A distant voice calling unintelligibly startled her, and she turned toward the front of the barn, uttering a gasp. She relaxedan instant later. The fieldhands were on their way in. They were still some distance off from the sounds of it.

She faced the rear of the building’s interior again, irritated to find she’d blasted her vision to garbage from looking at the sunlit area. She curled her fingers on the shovel’s handle. “I know someone’s in here. State your business, or I’ll assume the worst.”

No answer. Charity picked up the shovel and held it at the ready. Staying as silent as possible, she headed in, peering among bins and equipment as best as her slowly recovering sight allowed.

She’d gone half a dozen steps when someone grabbed her from behind. A thick arm circled her waist, pulling her close to a large body. Her attacker yanked the shovel from her grip and flung it into the darkness.

Chapter Nine

As the shovel flew from her sight, Charity enacted the first rule of self-defense she’d been taught: she screamed, as loud and piercing as she could. Then she stomped the assailant’s booted feet and jabbed her elbows in a stomach as hard as steel.

She was rewarded by the softest of grunts from her efforts. The bastard was big, and as far as she could tell, he was pure muscle. She screamed anew.

Something sprayed her face. Its scent was reminiscent of skunk, and she choked. Dizziness overwhelmed her. Her legs loosened, and she started to fall. Her surroundings rocked.

She was dimly aware her sudden collapse had made her slide low in her attacker’s grip. As he scrambled to catch her, she summoned what strength remained and shot her elbow back once more.

Score. Square in the family jewels, her fading mind whispered.

A high-pitched wheeze verified her hope, a lovely prize for her efforts. The man lost his hold on her. Her instincts screamed escape, and she obeyed them. On numbed legs, the barn tilting like a funhouse, she staggered for the outside.

She got through the door and ran smack into another large, muscled body. For a moment, she thought it was her attacker. To her relief, a familiar face swam in view as her upper arms were grabbed and she was held upright.

“Jennifer! Was it you screaming?” Detodev’s nose wrinkled. “What’s that smell?”

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