Donna Grant - Fire Rising

Jane had been so kind and giving, even when Sammi had tried to keep her distance. Jane hadn’t given up though. She had taken her time and slowly gotten to know Sammi with phone calls, e-mails, texts, and even visits to the pub.

There was kindness and acceptance in Jane’s amber eyes and it took everything Sammi had to keep her secret buried deep. She had come to Dreagan because she knew Jane would help. It had been selfish and stupid, and Sammi bemoaned her weakness.

She had just been so tired of being alone, of dealing with everything alone.

However, she knew Jane well enough to know she was like a dog with a bone. Jane wouldn’t let it go until she got some kind of explanation. So, Sammi decided to give her one.

“There was an accident at the pub. I was hurt, and I thought I could take care of it myself,” she said with a shrug. “It was stupid not to get it seen to properly. I’m much better now, so I’ll return to the pub this afternoon.”

“That might be difficult,” came a deep, sexy voice from the doorway.

Sammi’s head swung around to the doorway to see Banan and another man. Her stomach plummeted to her feet, because Sammi had been sure those shrewd, intoxicating, dark, velvet brown eyes had been nothing more than a dream.

But as she found herself sinking, falling, drowning into them, Sammi was elated to discover the eyes—and the man—hadn’t been a figment of her imagination.

She drank in the very masculine, very virile man before her. Without knowing anything about him, she instinctively knew he was dangerous and seductive, wild and alluring.

Even as she silently cautioned herself, she was inexplicably drawn to him. The attraction was immediate and alarming. At the same time it was captivating and enticing.

She wanted to run her fingers through his light brown hair streaked with gold that hung thick and glossy just past his shoulders. Brows the same pale brown slashed over his eyes. He was clean-shaven, giving notice to his strong jaw and chin.

He wore a shirt that molded to his broad shoulders. His arms were crossed, causing his muscles to bulge against skin kissed by the sun.

Her eyes drifted lower to his jeans hanging low on his narrow hips and encasing his long legs close enough she could sense they were as corded with muscle as the rest of him.

He was a walking fantasy. In all her life, Sammi had never seen anyone as drop-dead gorgeous as the man staring at her now. She had wanted to know him when her fever-induced mind had thought he was a dream, but now … now she knew to get close to him, to know him might put the heart she had guarded so well into peril.

“Sammi?”

She jerked at Banan’s voice but couldn’t pull her gaze away from his companion. For long seconds his dark eyes held hers until she looked away. Only to find Jane watching her peculiarly.

“What?” she asked Jane.

Banan walked into the room and came to stand beside Jane’s chair. “Did you no’ hear Tristan?”

Tristan. The name fit the man to perfection, just as his clothes did. Had he spoken? Oh, yes, he had. That’s what had drawn her attention. His amazing, captivating voice that made her stomach flutter with exhilaration.

But what had he said?

Then she remembered. Sammi idly turned her teacup around on the tray. She was being cornered in her lie, a lie she’d constructed to protect her sister.

“Sammi, please,” Jane urged. “Why would it be impossible for you to return to the pub?”

“I told you there was an accident.” Sammi prayed they left it at that and didn’t probe further.

Jane blew out a harsh breath. “What kind of accident? What happened?”

Finally, she looked at her sister. “Leave it, Jane.”

“You don’t trust me.” Jane’s words were said in a whisper, the hurt in them slamming into Sammi like fists.

Banan pulled Jane up and walked her to the door whispering something in her ear. After a minute she nodded and walked away. Banan then closed the door, leaving Sammi alone with him and Tristan.

By the look on Banan’s face when he turned back to her, Sammi knew the interrogation was about to begin.

“Don’t even try,” she said before he could open his mouth. “There’s nothing to tell other than what I’ve already said.”

“You’re no’ a verra good liar,” Banan said.

“I’m actually very good.” Why it offended her that he said she wasn’t, Sammi didn’t know. All she needed was a little more time to rest, and then she would be gone.

Tristan drew in a deep breath. “The pub is gone. There’s nothing left.”

As if she didn’t know that. She had been there. Felt the heat of the fire, suffered the impact of the blast.

Experienced the hate of it all.

When she didn’t reply, Banan briefly squeezed his eyes shut. “Your pub is gone. You were shot. That piece of shite you drove up in isna your car, Sammi. It doesna take a genius to figure out something is going on.”

Damn but she’d thought she could pull something over on them. It had been naïve and foolish to think they would believe her lies. They left her little choice though. “I’m not telling you anything to keep you all safe. It was wrong of me to come—”

“But you did,” Banan interrupted angrily.

Sammi deserved his ire, but she wasn’t going to give in. “I knew my wound was getting worse. I needed to rest, and I knew Jane would help.”

A muscle ticked dangerously along Banan’s jaw. “Aye. You’re her family.”

“Why no’ go to the hospital?” Tristan asked.

Sammi felt his dark gaze on her and shivered. His voice, just like his gaze, was electric, charged. Thrilling. She would definitely have to keep her distance from him.

“I couldn’t chance it,” she admitted.

Banan took the seat Jane had vacated and leaned his forearms upon his thighs. The frown he wore no longer held anger, but concern. “Who is after you, Sammi?”

“Bad people. Very bad people.” God, why had she let that slip? It wasn’t too much, at least, and as Banan had mentioned, an idiot could’ve figured that out. Still, she shouldn’t have told him.

Tristan walked to the foot of the bed and braced his hands on the iron footboard. “How long have you been running from them?”

They were asking such simple questions, but if she wasn’t careful, they would get it all out of her piece by piece. “A while.”

Banan exchanged a look with Tristan. “Vague answers again.”

“It took verra little to discover what happened to your pub,” Tristan said. “Why did you no’ want Jane to know that it was blown up and that your business partner is missing?”

Sammi squeezed her eyes shut. Poor Daniel. She’d known he was dead, but hearing it brought a fresh wave of pain. Even though Daniel had brought it on himself by being involved with such people.

“Where is Daniel?” Banan asked. “You doona seem the type of woman to blow up your own pub because your ex-lover pissed you off.”

Sammi’s eyes flew open as she glared at Banan. “Daniel was my friend and had a good head for business. He made me money.”

“Did you know he had spent some time in jail for petty crimes?” Tristan asked.

She glanced at him but couldn’t look in his eyes. “Not at first. Only once we realized we made better friends than lovers. He told me about his past, but he said he had changed.”

Banan sat back, causing the chair to creak. “Daniel lied, did he no’?”

“Yes.” And that’s all she would tell them. Let them dig into Daniel’s past or hers. She wasn’t going to say any more, and the first chance she got, she was leaving. The more distance she put between her and Jane, the better.

“You should eat,” Tristan said into the silence.