Chapter Twenty
Cheryl
The tears kept flowing even after the door slammed.
You idiot.
The meaning behind the singular thought that echoed in her skull over and over again had dual purposes. She was mad for falling for Rowe, and just as mad at herself for what she’d just said to him. Her warring halves couldn’t make up their mind on what to do.
“You’re staying?” She spoke to the air, as if it could come up with the answers she lacked. “What the hell were you thinking? You can’t fight werewolves any more than he can!”
Maybe not, but she didn’t want to be anywhere he wasn’t, and that was what hurt the most. After working so hard to gain her confidence, Rowe had turned around and was trying to throw her out. That was the real reason she was upset. He was acting like he didn’t need her, after telling her over and over again that he did need her, that he wanted her.
It hurt, and she couldn’t hide it from him. Wouldn’t hide it from him. Whether it was a mental inability, or a personal choice, she loved the way he seemed compelled to be nothing but truthful with her. Cheryl would do the same. Even when it hurt, she had to be forthcoming so that he would always be the same with him.
Speaking of Rowe, where the hell was he? It wasn’t like the big man to not chase after her. Had she hurt him so badly he was refusing to now? Cheryl clawed at her chest, worried sick that she might have irreparably harmed things between them with a rash choice of words that a calmer her would have agreed she didn’t actually mean.
Not willing to open the door and admit that she was coming to him, Cheryl crept to the sitting room just off the entry. If he was still out in the front yard then she should be able to see him easily.
“What the hell?”
The air once again caught in her throat as she watched the showdown going on outside. Alone Rowe stood facing a dozen men. One of them, a huge man that outmassed Rowe in size in all directions was speaking. She couldn’t tell what he was saying, but whatever it was Rowe wasn’t having any of it. Alone and unarmed, he was facing down the crowd completely unfazed.
She was so intent on watching Rowe that she didn’t immediately notice the attention coming back her way. One of the men had seen her in the window and was pointing. Several of the group, including a pair that looked awfully a lot alike detached themselves, heading toward the house.
Squeaking in distress she ducked back behind the blind and retreated from the door. Why were they coming for her? What had she done to them? And Rowe! What about Rowe?
The house shook with a mighty roar. Wood creaked. Glass groaned and anything not pinned down rattled or swayed where it was. The noise went on and on. Cheryl clapped her hands over her ears to try and drown out the mighty sound.
All at once she was back in the movie, the dinosaur having just breached the electric fence. It bellowed in triumph and challenge, sounding remarkably similar to this…only weaker. If the T-Rex were here now, she knew it would be running away, just like she wanted to do. Whatever had made that sound was terrifying.
Thinking that whatever it was making the noise was coming for her, she ran to the kitchen at the back of the house and grabbed the biggest knife from the block. After a second she reached in with her other hand and took second knife. Two was always better than one.
Staring nervously at the front door, she waited for it to open. The weapons twitched in her hand. She had no idea what to do, but when the door opened she would be ready.
The handle twisted, and opened.
“STAY OUT!” she shrieked, hurling both knives.
One bounced off the floor perhaps halfway to the front of the house, sliding across the hardwood until it hit a table leg, flinging it sideways where the tip caught in the baseboard of the wall and stopped it.
The other, larger knife somehow flung straight and true, defying all odds to embed itself in the front door. Whoever was on the other side stopped. A moment later a head poked around the corner, lead by perfectly styled black hair.
“Rowe?”
He stepped inside, eyes focused on the knife dug deep into the door. His gaze traveled from that across the room to her. Then back to the knife, and then to her again. “Look, I get you’re mad at me, but don’t you think that’s a little excessive?”
Cheryl’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding, right? Did you freaking hear the dinosaur from outside? What the hell is going on out there, Rowe? What was that thing?”
Stepping inside, Rowe gave the knife in the door one last look. Sighing, he wrenched the knife from the wall and walked across the open-concept main floor before putting it back in the knife block. He didn’t see the other one on the floor. Cheryl decided not to point it out. Let him think she had some sort of latent talent for throwing knives.
“Those are relatives of Rusty,” he informed her.
“Who?” Her mind was elsewhere.
“The previous owner of the farm. They’re here to claim it.”
She snorted. “Too freaking bad for them. If they weren’t listed on the will they have no real claim to it. Especially if the bank sold it already. You don’t think a bank is going to admit it was wrong and let it go to court do you?”
“No. But something tells me they didn’t go to the bank.”
“Why’s that?” she asked, thankful to be talking about something she could understand.
“They gave us an ultimatum. Leave the property within seventy-two hours.”
“Or what?”
“Else.”
Cheryl’s mouth clacked shut. “Else? They’re threatening violence?”
“Death, to be precise.” Rowe shrugged, as if it were a minor detail.
Hell, who knew, maybe in the world of shapeshifters, in which he seemed suspiciously well-versed, the act of killing someone for their property was normal.
“So we call the police.”
“Won’t work. They’ll back off. The police can’t do anything until they actually hurt someone.” He frowned. “Plus we just don’t call the police.”
“So what do you want to do, leave and let them have it?”
Rowe’s face tightened, anger turning his eyes from warm and inviting to a deathly cold shade of green that made Cheryl feel sorry for anyone who tried to cross him. Shifter or not, he was a powerful figure.
“They aren’t getting the property.” He spoke it like an oath. “I know what I would do, but I can’t do it.”
“Why not?”
His features softened into a sad smile directed her way. “Because you won’t leave like I asked you to.”
“I told you, I’m not running.”
Why was she saying this? Running was the smart idea! It meant survival. Living. The opposite of death, which is what the pack of werewolves were promising her. What the hell was she thinking? Cheryl idly wondered if a bout of madness had descended upon her that she was unaware of. It was far too confusing to figure out if she was insane, but thought she was sane. After all, did someone mentally unstable actually realize it?
Her head started to hurt.
“I wish you would,” Rowe said as they repeated the argument, going round after round with each other, neither willing to relent. “I’m not sure how I would react if something happened to you.
“You keep saying that.”
“I keep playing over scenarios in my head. If things go bad and they get you.”
“They won’t,” she said firmly. “You’ll keep me safe.”
He smiled. “I appreciate the faith, but there are a lot of them. Keeping that many away from you is tough.”
“I wish Torran and Palin were here,” she muttered. “They would help.”
“They would. And I suspect Lilly and Sandy would be just as stubborn about leaving their men as you are.”
She gave him a look. “You’re my man now, are you?”
Rowe winked. “I think we established that, yes.”
“And if I’m not ready to be your woman?”
“Then my love will burn for you just as brightly while I wait for you.”
Cheryl coughed, trying to hide her surprise.
“Is there a problem?” Rowe looked concerned.
“I’m sorry, did you just say you loved me?”
The big man clenched and unclenched one giant fist. It was a nervous twitch that she wondered if he even knew he had.
“Yes,” he said at last. “I did. I love you, Cheryl Payne. Fully. Completely. Unashamedly. That is why I wish to the bottom of my soul that you would leave. Because if you die, I don’t know what I will do without a mate.”
Mate.
She’d heard that word a few times during her brief stay at Palin’s farmhouse before she’d moved over to the ranch. He spoke about Sandy, his mate, in glowing terms, and she used it as well. The term itself wasn’t unfamiliar, but Cheryl had never heard a couple use it to describe one another before. What was it with these farmers? This had to be the weirdest little community she’d ever become a part of.
That was just it though. The confusing part. Because Cheryl most definitely was a part of it.
“This is the part where you say something,” he said in a stage whisper. “Doesn’t have to be you repeating it, but just anything so I know you aren’t freaking out.”
“What if I am freaking out?”
He nodded slowly, back and forth, stalling for time while he collected his thoughts. “Then I’ll do whatever I can to help you calm down. Even,” he added reluctantly, “if that means giving you some space.”
“Don’t lose hope,” she told him, reaching out and squeezing his forearm. “I like you. It’s just…the seriousness of everything, you telling me you love me. It’s all too much. Too fast. I…I need some time to just think, to figure things out for me.”
“I understand better than you might think. There are other factors at play that you don’t know about yet.”
“Right. Well, I’m going to go to my room and be both giddy and scared that you told me you loved me, okay?”
He laughed. “Absolutely. I’ll be here if you need me. Let me know when you get hungry and I can bring you lunch, or a snack. Whatever you need.”
“Yeah. Right now, I just need time.”
Rowe sobered. “Take all the time you need. As long as it’s not more than three days.”
Because in three days’ time, the werewolves were going to come for them.