Page 47 of Unnatural (Men and Monsters #2)

Sam’s arm shot out, and he stepped between Autumn and the older man in the sheriff’s uniform.

“It’s okay, Sam,” Autumn said, ducking from beneath his arm. “I know him.”

The sheriff shut the front door and walked toward them, glancing at the makeshift hospital bed near the window, his eyes lingering on the table covered by medical supplies.

“I knew something was up when I kindly offered to drive out here and check the pipes Bill mentioned were making strange noises a few months ago and he nearly shit a brick falling all over himself saying he’d already done it.

That man’s a terrible liar. And wouldn’t know a water pipe from a pipe cleaner.

Then Peggy Lou at the secondhand store mentioned Bill came in last week and picked up a few pairs of pants in a size that definitely wasn’t his.

” He looked Sam up and down, clearly assessing his size and coming to the correct conclusion.

“Damn Peggy Lou and her mouth,” Autumn murmured.

The sheriff eyed Sam. “This is the sick aunt, I presume?”

Autumn let out a nervous tinkling laugh, glancing up at Sam and then back to the sheriff. “Well, see, it’s sort of a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

Sam took a step closer to Autumn, quickly considering his options. He’d already sized the sheriff up, judged his weight and his strength. He could take this man, gun or not. He could outrun him too. But then he’d have to leave Autumn behind. His mind raced. His options were poor.

The program had drummed into them that the lack of connections was important for survival, and now Sam knew exactly why. If you cared , your options became fewer. And they also became confusing. They made you question the why.

Of course, he’d already learned that lesson once in Macau, but this was Autumn , so the lesson hit even closer to home.

Before he could make a move, the sheriff put his hand up.

“Take it down a notch, big fellow. I’m going to assume you’re a decent sort if Autumn approves of you.

” He looked at her. “I oughta wring your neck. Oh, step back. It’s a figure of speech,” he said to Sam, who relaxed his stance and swallowed back the growl that was rising in his throat. He hadn’t even realized he’d moved.

Autumn took a deep breath, looking between the sheriff and Sam. “Do you…er…”

“Yeah, I recognize him,” the sheriff said, scratching his cheek and again giving Sam the once-over. “Damn if you aren’t exactly what she said you were.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. Autumn had described him to this man?

“He’s not a what , Sheriff. He’s a he. ”

“I can see that.”

“I’m also gonna assume he’s the unknown Good Samaritan from the news out of New York City, and you’re the possible witness.”

Autumn gaped at him for a minute. “How’d you piece that together?”

“It occurred the day before you supposedly up and left your beloved patients without a mere check-in, racing out of town to care for the old cantankerous bitch you referred to as Satan’s bride when she visited town six years ago. Didn’t exactly add up.”

Autumn shifted on her feet. “Oh.”

The sheriff’s gaze landed on Sam again, continuing to size him up, and strangely, Sam didn’t feel judged harshly under the scrutiny. The sheriff looked more thoughtful than anything.

“You’re not going to turn us in, are you?” Autumn asked quietly.

He thinned his lips. “You’re putting me in a predicament here, Autumn Clancy.”

“I tried not to. Bill tried not to.”

The man sighed. “Yeah. I know. I know.” He turned his scrutiny on Autumn. “You had to go and be tireless , didn’t you?”

“In my search for answers?” She nodded. “ Yes. I had to be tireless. I don’t know another way to be.”

“Don’t I know it.” He sighed yet again. “And that tireless search led you to him. You do know I mostly thought you were suffering from some delusion.”

Autumn smiled, and it was soft, like a feather, the way she sometimes smiled at him. “Mostly.”

The sheriff walked to the couch and sat down. “I’m going to need to hear all the details. And while I do, I’m going to need a drink. If I remember correctly, there’s some whiskey in the lower right cabinet there,” he said, pointing into the kitchen.

“It’s still morning. And you’re on duty,” Autumn said, but then she grinned, and Sam could see that her shoulders had relaxed.

“Yeah,” the sheriff said. “I’m bending a lot of rules today.”

***

The sheriff listened as Autumn told the story of the day the shooting had happened. He didn’t say a word, just nodded and sipped his coffee with a splash of whiskey. When she was done, his mug was empty, and he looked both troubled and resigned.

“You do realize that I could lose my position if it’s found out I helped harbor a criminal.”

“He’s not a criminal. And neither am I.”

“You’re both wanted for questioning.”

Autumn’s eyes slid to Sam. “I know. But there’s something bigger going on here. We don’t know exactly what, but we need time to find out. Sam might be in danger if he’s taken into custody.”

“What kind of danger?”

“I was in a program at the hospital. Those people will want me back.” Which wasn’t exactly true. After all, they’d dismissed him. But they definitely wanted him dead .

“That’s a pretty cryptic answer, Sam.”

“I’m sorry. It’s the only one I can give right now.”

The sheriff studied him for another moment. “You sure do have quite a few scars, Sam. Did you serve?”

“Yes.” He had served, just not in the way the sheriff meant.

“I’m asking you to trust us,” Autumn said.

“Us, huh?” The sheriff glanced away. “I was never here,” he said. “Wash the mug. Put it away. After I drive off, make sure you brush away my tire tracks.”

Autumn grinned, jumping up and throwing her arms around his neck, even though he was still sitting. She kissed him on his cheek. “Thank you,” she said, standing and moving back so he could stand too.

The sheriff seemed to be considering saying something to Sam but then simply nodded and closed the door behind him. A minute later, they heard his car start up and drive away.

Half an hour after that, Sam used the red truck to drive Autumn to her car.

Sam dropped her off in front of the small house, and when she put her hands on his face and gazed into his eyes, Sam got the impression that she wanted to say something but didn’t.

What did she want to tell him? That she might not come back?

The hairs stood up on the back of his neck.

Sam had done all kinds of dangerous things, but he’d never felt fear like he felt when he considered not seeing Autumn again.

But then she murmured, “I’ll see you soon,” against his lips, and Sam was able to pull in a full breath as she hopped out of the truck and headed toward her car.

Sam returned to the lake, following the back road directions Autumn had written out, even though he could have done it without those. He’d been trained to make note of landmarks, escape routes, and other directional details.

When he walked inside, the cottage felt strange. Empty. And for a while, Sam simply sat on the couch, melancholy creeping over his skin, familiar yet unwanted. He hadn’t even realized that he’d ceased carrying it until it was back.

Sam went out to the deck and sat there for a while too, watching the movement of the water and the clouds. Loneliness. He’d always felt lonely, but it’d never been this piercing.

This is what it will be like when you’re alone again.

Yes, of course it would. He hadn’t lied to himself about that.

He’d considered it worth the risk.

But here he was now, after less than an hour away from her, and he was drowning in it as sure as if he’d submerged himself in the frigid lake stretching in front of him.

She’d asked him if he’d ever thought about kissing her in all the years they’d been parted.

Yes , he’d told her. It was the last time I felt truly alive.

But he hadn’t known the half of it. He hadn’t realized that those few stolen moments with her so many years ago barely scratched the surface of what it felt like to feel alive .

She was the one who’d provided the experience, then and now, but this time it was intensified beyond any words Sam had to describe it.

If this was life—laughing with her, looking at her, being inside her body as she stared down at him with pleasure-filled eyes, hearing her speak, seeing her lips tip with happiness that he’d given—then he fully understood why people clung to it, fought for it, and feared its end.

For the first time in Sam’s life, he understood what it felt like to belong. To want and receive.

And it was wonderful. And terrifying.

She’d been right about pleasure being different when someone else gave it to you.

He’d treated pleasure like food. Essential and enjoyable, as long as you didn’t overindulge.

But Sam wanted to overindulge with her. And the ideas of how to do that didn’t disturb him like the videos they’d watched at the hospital.

But Sam didn’t want to think about the hospital or anything else. If he sat here all day, staring out at the lake, all he was going to do was think. Torture himself. He couldn’t bear it.

So he went into the house and prepared himself for what he’d decided needed to be done.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam was pulling onto the road again in the old red truck, the license plate splashed with mud since he figured Adam had reported it stolen.

Then again, maybe the old man was still waiting for Sam to return it, having faith that he’d just gotten hung up somewhere and would be back anytime.

Sam sighed as he watched the landscape streak by.