Night Visions (Night Series) (18 page)

CHAPTER 16

Ian
's gut clenched with guilt as the cabin vanished in his rearview mirror. When he picked up his phone earlier and saw private in the caller ID, he almost didn't answer. But worried it may have been one of the guys on patrol checking in, he answered the call.

Through the static crackling in his ear
, he thought he heard Jason's voice. The only words filtering through were Jason and partial directions to his location. The landmarks given, were familiar to Ian. He'd have no trouble finding him.

He wished he was able to get more information from him, but he sounded calm on the phone. Had he escaped? Did they let him go?

Trent could have gone to the location in his place, but Jason called him for help. And to be honest, Ian wanted to be the one to bring Jason back to Sam. To redeem himself in her eyes and for once be the hero. He should have told her before he left, but he didn't want to get her hopes up. If he could ease just one worry for her.

When the tires hit the pavement, he let his mind drift back to Sam. If it had been anyone else on the phone, he would have stayed and made love to her again. How beautiful she looked when she laid beneath him. Her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen. The heat from her fingers as she explored his body. For the first time
, his soul felt at peace.

He hoped that peace wouldn't be shattered when he unveiled the final secret. He'd tried, but when he saw the pleading look in her eyes, he caved. How could he tell her no? Her entire world had unraveled in a matter of days.

After tonight, if she forgave him, he would never leave her side again. He would help her find the answers she needed so they could get Casimir out of their lives forever.

With Jason free, they didn't have leverage to use against Sam. From what little Ian could discern over the phone, Jason's voice didn't sound strained. Which hopefully meant he didn't have any life threatening injuries. What didn't make sense, was why didn't he go directly to Ian's house? Or Trent's for that matter? Unless he hitched a ride and didn't want to give away their location.

He eased off the accelerator as a faded red barn appeared on the right. Pulling off the side of the road, he put the car in park. Leaving his headlights shining on the barn, he flipped open the glove box. Shifting some papers aside, he found his flashlight.

Opening the door
, he stepped outside, a cool breeze ruffling his hair. He swiped his flashlight across the lot. There were no other vehicles and from what he could tell, no fresh tracks in the dirt. Tipping his head, he listened for anything that sounded out of place. This was the right place. The abandoned barn on the McCall's property.

The hair prickled on the back of Ian's neck. Tightening his grip on the flashlight, he aimed the beam of light toward the barn door. Walking forward, his eyes darted from side to side. All of his senses on high alert.

The barn door hung at an odd angle on its rusty hinges. Grasping the edge, his muscles bunched as it groaned in protest. When it wouldn't move any further, he wedged his shoulder in the crack, slipping inside.

A beat up pickup truck rested on cement blocks, its tires long gone. Flecks of dried hay scraped against the soles of his boots. Light arced across the room, as he swung the flashlight from side to side. Where the hell was Jason?

Something rustled in the loft overhead. He raised the flashlight, the beam piercing the darkness. Hay and dirt danced in the light as they fell to the ground. His pulse hammered in his ear, his hand fisted at his side, ready to defend himself.

He spun on his heel at the sound of movement behind him. Lifting his arm
, he shielded his head as something launched at him. The flutter of wings had him dropping his hand.

Bats.

He hated bats.

His cell phone rang, the sound deafening in the now still barn. Digging in his pocket he tugged the phone free. Sam's name flashed on the display.

* * *

Sam gazed out the window, waiting for Ian's headlights to illuminate the darkened night. The languid warmth in her body evaporated with Ian's departure.

Dragging herself away from the window she cleared their uneaten dinner. Food was the last thing on her mind as her stomach knotted with worry. Trying to suppress the fear that he wouldn't return, she felt foolish for even doubting he would leave again. He promised to protect her.

Lifting the stainless steel teakettle, she filled it with water before returning it to the gas burner.

Gin paced in circles at the door, whining to go out.

“Okay girl, but don't wander far.” Sam trusted Gin's instincts, but one misstep and she could tumble off the cliffs.

Opening the door, she stepped onto the porch, watching Ginger run off toward the wood line. Even though it was a balmy night, she still had goose bumps. Something about the air chilled her to the bone. Crossing her arms, she rubbed them to keep warm, wishing Ian would hurry. Cuddling in front of the fire would be nice. Making love again would be even better. The thought of lying in his arms again, chased the chill away. She'd dreamed of this night for so long, only to wake up empty and alone.

Sam squinted toward the woods. What was taking Gin so long? She should have known better than to let her run off on her own up here. She was easily distracted, especially at night when all of the critters were prowling.

A shriek invaded her thoughts.

Her heart nearly flew out of her chest. She huffed out a gush of air
, realizing it was just the teakettle. “Get a grip Sam.”

She giggled at herself, holding her hand over her heart. Who could blame her? With all that happened in the past 24 hours
, how could she not be jumpy? It wouldn't be the first time something stalked her in the woods. Not to mention her last nightmare with the bear and the wolf. She wasn't about to disregard them. There was a warning there somewhere, she just needed to figure out what it was.

Knowing Ginger would be off exploring for a while, Sam closed the door behind her. She made her way across the floor, hurrying to the kitchen to silence the shrill whistle. One quick flip of the knob had the cherry-red burner fading back to black.

The wooden handle pressed against her palm as she carried it toward the counter where her cup sat, waiting with the tea bag. Water gurgled from the spout, splashing over the bag. The wet tea leaves released a calming scent of chamomile sweetness.

She placed the kettle on the opposite burner before grabbing her cup from the counter. The steaming mug warmed her chilled hands, as she stepped into the family room. If the circumstances had been different, this could have been their home. She examined the room, picturing Ian sitting on the couch with his legs outstretched toward the fire.

Taking advantage of her time alone, she decided to learn more about Ian. Photos on the wall mirrored the photos hanging in Trent's home. Rebecca's landscapes. Another wall contained a floor to ceiling built in bookcase. Scattered across the shelves, photos of Ian and his family smiled back at her. Familiar knick-knacks from his childhood home nestled in between.

Paperbacks and hardcovers filled the center shelf in a neat arrangement. Curious to see if his taste in literature had changed, she ran her fingers along the spines of the books. Stephen King, Nelson DeMille, Samantha Cade…

Samantha Cade?

She pulled one of her books off the shelf, staring at the well-worn spine. Disbelieving what she was seeing, she reached for another, blinking back tears that threatened to fall. She trie
d to picture him sitting in the room with one of her novels in his hand. Did he see that she dedicated her first release to him?

He mentioned before about her talent. She never imagined that he had actually read any of her books. Had he been following her career all these years? Her stomach fluttered with excitement. Did he feel as lost without her, as she did with him?

A flash of silver caught her eye. She walked toward the corner shelf, lifting a silver frame that held a picture of her and Ian. This was the picture from her nightstand. The one that disappeared the night he left. It stirred a memory of waking in the night, feeling a sense of loss. The bond between them severed. How she'd searched her room for something out of place, yet found nothing but the flutter of her curtains. Could still remember the cool air that greeted her when she crept to the window. She swore she had closed it before she went to bed. Resting her palms on the sill, she leaned forward, studying her yard. There was nothing but shadows playing and the shimmer of the moon on the lake.

She didn't have to knock on Ian's door to know he was gone. The cold emptiness where her heart used to be confirmed it.

Carefully placing the frame back in its place, Sam grabbed a creamy chenille blanket off the sofa. Setting her mug on the side table, she curled into the chair next to the fireplace, waiting for Ian to return. She was not going to let him walk out of her life again, even if it meant risking her fractured heart.

Tucking her slipper-covered feet under her, she pulled the soft blanket under her chin, inhaling Ian's familiar scent, the one that still lingered on her body.

* * *

Opening her eyes proved harder than Sam thought it should be. Maybe because she wasn't ready to wake up. Needed to get a few more hours in. Then maybe she could break the chaotic sleep cycle she'd started.

How long had she waited for Ian before she fell asleep? Ten minutes? Twenty? Two hours?

Snick.

Snick.

Her head snapped toward the door.

Snick.

Snick.

Oh no! She forgot about Gin. How long had she waited outside for her? Springing from the chair, she ran to the door. "Sorry, Gin." she said, reaching for the handle. "I fell a…” The words trapped in her throat once the door opened, revealing a form. A form that wasn't Ginger but a snarling cougar. Eyes of fire glared at her, it's mouth curled back, exposing razor sharp teeth. Sam slammed the door with a bang, bracing her forehead and palms against it. “Since when do cougars come calling like an Avon Lady?” she panted.

“Samantha.”

She staggered back a step. The raspy sound sent a cold chill up her spine.

What the hell? Who's out there?

Her eyes darted around the room searching for a weapon. She snatched the fireplace poker, jumping when the stand crashed to the floor. Panic welled inside her. Her fingers gripped the cool iron, while her eyes stayed glued to the door.

Grabbing her cell off the counter, her numb fingers dialed Ian's number.

"Hey, Sammie, I'm on my way back."

Even the sound of his voice didn't relieve her. "There…there's something out there."

"What do you mean?"

"A cougar…it's at the door. Someone said my name. Are they here, Ian?"

"Sam, stay inside, I'm on my…"

Glass shattered as the cougar crashed through the window. Sam dropped the phone and ran.

* * *

"Sam! Sam!"

Ian's heart seized in his chest. No matter how many times he screamed her name, she wouldn't answer. The crash that echoed in his ears had him running to the barn door. His foot slammed into it, knocking it off its hinges.

Jumping in his car, he turned the key in the ignition. Jamming it into gear, the tires spun as he swung the SUV back onto the road. Pressing the accelerator to the floor, he slammed his palm against the wheel. He was still at least twenty minutes out.

A cougar?

Damn it
!

He prayed it wasn't who he thought it was. To think he trusted the wrong person and Sam could die because of it.

The phone call was a trap and he fell right into it. His fist pounded on the wheel again. How could he be so stupid? He should never have left her. Should have put his damn pride aside and let Trent investigate.

How the hell did they get past the patrol? Shit. How did they get past Cara? She would have sensed someone coming. Would lay down her life before letting anything happen to Sam. If Sam was alone…

No. He refused to believe that Cara was dead. She had too much fight in her. Had given up so much to protect Sam. She couldn't go out like this.

He approached the car in front of him at a dangerous level of speed. Jerking the wheel
, he swerved to the left. Oncoming headlights blinded him, their horn blaring a warning. With inches to spare, he swung the car back into the right lane. He prayed he'd reach them in time. Because if he didn't, God help them. No one would leave his property alive.

With one hand on the wheel, he reached across the seat for his discarded phone. The screen lit up as his fingers tapped the dial pad. Hitting redial he pressed the phone to his ear.

Trent barely had time to say hello before Ian interrupted. “Something is going on up at the cabin. I think it was a trap to draw me away from her. I don't have time to explain, Trent. Just hurry.”

He didn't wait to hear his friend's response. Instead
, he threw his phone down, gripping the wheel with both hands. “Come on…come on…” he ground out. How could he be so stupid? He should never have left her alone. Never given anyone the chance to hurt her.