"Come for me.” Shamus braced himself over her body, his face intense. Sweat dotted his forehead as he flexed his hips faster and faster.
Cyndi dug her fingers into the bed covers, her body on fire now, all the cold driven away by the heat of Shamus's passion. Her body thrummed, totally alive, poised on the brink of orgasm. “Shamus!” she cried, digging her heels into his shoulders, arching her back. Wanting. Needing to be closer.
His hips slammed into hers. Harder. Faster.
Sharp and intense, her orgasm rocketed through her. She cried out as he continued to pound into her body, claiming it, loving it. Her inner muscles clamped down tight on his cock and he yelled, his entire body jerking as he emptied himself in the condom.
Cyndi sank into the pillows, totally spent and gasping for breath. Shamus carefully lowered her legs, pulling out before collapsing alongside her. They lay there for a long time, before she'd turned her head on the pillow. He was watching her intently.
"I love you,” she whispered.
He reached out, his fingers grazing her lips. “I love you, too."
They slept for a while, then cleaned up again, and redressed. Shamus decided to grill the steaks, and they'd just finished eating when Patrick dropped by. There was really no news. No fingerprints. No witnesses.
Cyndi's spirits sank. Unless this unknown person made a mistake, they might never catch him. Patrick didn't stay long, and once they cleaned up from their meal, they headed upstairs again. Stripping off her clothing, she hauled on a nightshirt and crawled into bed. They tried to watch a movie on television, but neither of them was really interested. Finally, at eleven o'clock they called it a night.
Cyndi rolled over in bed yet again and punched her pillow. The red, glowing numbers from the clock on the nightstand told her it was just after two o'clock in the morning. She was exhausted and wanted to sleep, but her mind wouldn't shut down.
"You awake?” Shamus's voice was low.
"Yes.” She rolled over so that she was facing him. There was enough light from the moon coming in through the window for her to see him.
"I know that this is hard on you.” He stroked her hair so tenderly that it brought tears to her eyes.
"It hasn't exactly been easy on you either.” His relationship with her had brought him nothing but a boatload of trouble.
"But the benefits far outweigh the problems.” His thumb grazed her bottom lip.
"You sure about that?” At times like this, she wished she was strong enough to send him away. But the kind of joy and happiness he brought to her had been rare in her life. She'd never experienced the kind of love and devotion Shamus offered her. She had so much love to give and had never really found anyone to share it with before now. A love such as this was worth fighting for.
She'd been a coward for the first twenty-five years of her life and wasn't going back there. She'd worked hard these past fourteen years to make something of herself, to finally become the person she wanted to be. That woman was a fighter.
"I'm very sure.” He leaned forward, brushing his lips over hers. “Everything will work out.” Her body immediately began to tingle. No doubt about it, Shamus only had to look at her in a certain way and she was instantly aroused. It was both thrilling and disconcerting for a woman of her age to just be tapping into this well of abundant sexuality, but she liked it.
And from the hard-on poking her in the belly, so did he.
She reached her hand down to stroke him when the entire house suddenly shook. A huge boom seemed to echo in the air.
Shamus rolled out of bed, dragging her with him. “Get dressed,” he yelled.
Cyndi grabbed her jeans off the floor, not bothering with underwear. She ripped open a drawer and grabbed a sweater, pulling it on over her nightshirt. Stuffing her bare feet into her sneakers, she grabbed her purse. Her mind had finally made sense of the noises. Something had exploded.
Shamus was already dressed and had his phone out as he grabbed her hand. She could smell smoke when he opened the door. “Cyndi Marks's place. The old James house on James Lane,” he told the emergency operator as they hurried down the stairs. “No, I don't know how bad it is. We heard an explosion. We're on our way out now."
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Cyndi could see the smoke billowing out from the kitchen area. She and Shamus raced for the front door. Cyndi turned all the locks and Shamus pulled the door open.
Cool air rushed in as they stepped out onto the front porch, closing the door behind them. Cyndi stumbled on a loose sneaker lace, almost losing her balance. She fell back, but Shamus caught her.
A loud crack ripped through the night. She felt Shamus falling and grabbed him. “Shamus."
"Get down,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.
There was another loud crack and a piece of the railing shattered, sending wood splinters flying everywhere. Someone was shooting at them! Her eyes flew to Shamus. The front of his shirt was changing color, turning dark. He'd been shot!
The bullet had been meant for her, but when she'd stumbled, it had hit him instead. Wrapping her arm around him, she half pulled, half dragged him down the steps as another shot rang out. Her arm jerked and began to sting, but she ignored it as she yanked him down behind his truck.
"Where's your phone?” She patted his pockets, but it wasn't there.
"Here.” He handed it to her. Through everything, he'd managed to hang on to it.
Cyndi grabbed it from him. To her surprise, the connection hadn't been broken and the emergency operator was still on the other end of the line. “Call the sheriff's department and send an ambulance. There's someone shooting at us."
"Are you hurt?"
"Shamus is. I'm not sure how bad. I have to see."
"Don't hang up the phone,” the operator instructed.
"Okay.” Cyndi could hear faint sirens in the distance and she saw smoke streaming from the back of the house. None of it mattered. Her entire focus was on the man on the ground beside her. The fact that he was just lying there worried her. His breathing was shallow, his face pale.
Carefully, she raised his shirt. It was sticky with blood. Her stomach roiled and she swallowed hard. She breathed a sigh of relief when his chest seemed unhurt. He grunted in pain as she lifted the cloth, exposing his left shoulder.
Blood seeped heavily from a wound. Cyndi tossed her purse aside, whipped off her sweater, and yanked her nightshirt over her head. Pulling the sweater back on, she then folded the fabric of her nightshirt into a pad and laid it over the wound, pressing down hard.
"We can't stay here. We're too exposed.” Shamus swore as he levered himself up onto his right elbow.
She knew he was right. “Where?"
Another shot kicked up the dirt just inches from her feet. Rolling to his knees, Shamus struggled to his feet. Cyndi stuffed the phone in her purse and hooked it over her head and shoulder. Wrapping her arm around him, she tried to support his weight and keep pressure on his wound at the same time. They moved as quickly as they could, rounding the back of the truck.
Cyndi was sweating heavily now, a combination of fear and exertion. Shamus looked ready to drop in a heap and although the sirens were getting closer, there was no help to be had at the moment. They were on their own.
Shamus stumbled, almost falling twice, but Cyndi managed to keep them upright, finding strength she didn't know she had. They managed to run behind her car, which was further away from the shooter. At least she hoped it was. She really couldn't tell where he was, but all the shots seemed to be coming from one general location.