In a few more weeks, she’d be leaving, returning to her life in the city. All she’d have left of Sam and the ranch were the memories she made while she was there. Her throat tightened. She wanted Sam, and he wanted her. Libby vowed to make a memory that would stay with her through the years after she left.
As everyone dispersed to their tents, she glanced toward the tent that belonged to Sam. She wanted to spend the night with him, wanted him to finish what they had started last night. A sigh of frustration escaped. No way was she being the aggressor again tonight, and she knew Sam wouldn’t come to her.
He had duties, responsibilities. Once they got home, maybe they could find a way to be together.
The thought hovered deliciously in the back of her mind as she headed for the outhouse before she went to bed. The moon was out, bright enough she didn’t need a flashlight to find the wooden building in the woods.
Finished, she descended the two wooden steps and walked down the trail back to camp. It was darker here among the pine trees. She gasped as a tall, bulky figure stepped into the trail, blocking her path.
Libby stiffened. “Get out of my way, Vince.”
His teeth flashed in a smile more wolfish than friendly. “I’ve been looking for you. I figured you’d have to come here sooner or later.” His blond hair glinted in the moonlight, paler than Sam’s, long and stringy, not thick and silky.
Libby stiffened her spine. No way was she letting the guy intimidate her. “I’m warning you, Vince. If you don’t get out of my way, I’m going to scream.”
Instead of backing off, he moved closer. She caught the sudden flash of silver, saw the knife in his hand, and shock rolled through her. She opened her mouth to scream, but Vince’s thick arm wrapped around her neck, dragging her back against him and knocking the breath from her lungs. She felt the edge of the blade at the side of her neck.
“You aren’t going to scream,” Vince said. “Not if you’re smart. You’re going to give me what you gave Sam Bridger last night, and you’re going to keep your mouth shut. If you don’t, Bridger’s throat will be the next one I cut.”
Libby was shaking as Vince pressed the knife a little deeper, forcing her off the trail into the forest, spilling a drop of blood that ran down her neck. He was big, more than twice her size, and the hard look in his eyes said he wasn’t bluffing.
She thought about her self-defense classes, but as long as he held the knife, he was in control. She had to wait, bide her time. She stumbled as he dragged her farther into the forest, turned her around and forced her up against the trunk of a tree. He sheathed the knife, but his big hand remained around her throat, holding her in place.
Libby whimpered as he popped the snap on the waistband of her jeans and unfastened her zipper.
“A smart woman would relax and enjoy herself.”
Bile rose in her throat. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, she jerked her knee up into his groin hard enough to make him grunt, but the impact wasn’t hard enough to make him stop.
His mouth tightened. So did the thick fingers around her neck. “I like a little fight in a woman, but not too much.” He ran a finger over her cheek. “Just give me what I want, keep your mouth shut, and you’ll be okay.”
He used his free hand to unzip his pants, and Libby started struggling. No way was she giving in to this animal without a fight. The moment he lowered his head to kiss the side of her neck, she drew back and head-butted him as hard as she could. Pain shot into her skull, and stars appeared behind her eyes. The next instant, Vince was flying backward, a big fist hit him hard in the mouth and he went down.
Big John Coolwater stood over him, his giant hand fisted. “You can leave now, you and your friend. Or you can ride down with us in the morning and face the sheriff. The choice is yours.”
Vince worked his jaw. A trail of blood oozed from a cut at the corner of his mouth. “We don’t know the way back.”
“The horses do. Give them their heads, and they will find their way home. If you have other ideas or plan to make trouble when you get there, I’ll be somewhere behind you. You won’t like what will happen if you make me angry.”
Max walked out of the woods just then, his gaze running over them as he took in the scene. He was smaller than Vince, dark and wiry instead of blond and beefy. “What the hell have you done, Vince?”
“Take him and go,” Big John commanded. “Or face the law tomorrow.”
Max eyed Big John, assessing the situation. Then he turned and nudged Vince’s shoulder with his boot. “Get up, goddammit. I told you not to make trouble.”
“Fine.” Vince rolled to his feet, wiping the blood off his lips with the back of his hand. “I’m sick of these fucking hillbillies anyway. Let’s get our ass on the road.”
They stumbled off toward the horses, Big John right behind them. He stopped and turned. “I will be back in the morning.” He started walking and didn’t turn around again.
Libby took a moment to compose herself. She was trembling all over, her head aching, her mind still spinning. Nausea rolled in her stomach. She took a deep breath and waited until she could control her shaking limbs. Then she adjusted her clothes and started through the trees back up the trail toward camp.
By the time she got there, she had made a decision. If Big John wanted Sam to know about Vince, he would have said something. Sam was responsible for all the people in camp. If he knew what Vince had done, Sam would go after him. If he did, anything could happen while he was gone.
Libby decided to wait, tell Sam in the morning. She prayed Big John would be okay, but there was a calm certainty about the man that assured her he would be.
The camp was quiet when Libby crawled into her tent. A few minutes later, the flap lifted and Sam appeared in the opening.
“I was starting to worry,” he said.
She hoped her voice didn’t tremble. “I was...umm...stargazing,” she lied, hoping he wouldn’t see the moisture in her eyes.
Sam lingered in the doorway, and she thought for a moment he might come inside. It was what she wanted most and the very last thing she wanted.
“Goodnight, Sam,” she said.
A long moment passed. “Goodnight, Libby.” Sam left the tent, zipping it behind him.
Libby could hear his soft footfalls as he returned to his tent. Then everything went quiet.
Tears burned her eyes. If Big John hadn’t shown up when he did, Vince would have raped her. More tears welled and spilled over onto her cheeks. She muffled her sobs with the sleeping bag.
As the hours slipped past and sleep wouldn’t come, Libby thought of Sam and wished he had stayed.
Chapter Eleven