Orphan Maker (28 page)

“Blow.”

Loomis chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.” She did as ordered. Satisfied, Gwen sat up and stripped the shirt off before Loomis could register what she was doing. Seconds later, Loomis’s head was cradled on the bare skin of Gwen’s shoulder.

“How do you feel?”

“Stupid.” Loomis closed her eyes, trying to focus on the conversation rather than the knowledge that Gwen was naked from the waist up beneath the sheet and quilt.

Gwen caressed Loomis’s face, running her fingers along the temple and down over the cheek and jaw. “You ain’t stupid. You needed that.”

Taking the time to assess herself, Loomis had to agree. Instead of the tension, fear and anger she normally experienced after a nightmare, she felt numb. The hollow in her chest didn’t seem so deep that it threatened to swallow her whole. Her lower lip quivered at the realization, and another tear escaped her. She basked in Gwen’s touch. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Loomis cringed, waiting for the expected questions. She’d gotten to know Gwen well enough over the past few weeks to understand that the woman was obstinate beyond words when it came to getting her way. When no questions were forthcoming, she pulled up just enough to peer at Gwen’s profile. “Aren’t you going to ask me to tell you about it?”

Gwen smirked and shook her head. “What’s the point? You won’t tell me until you want to.”

The turnabout surprised Loomis, though she knew Gwen was right. She had sworn Rick and Cara to secrecy five years ago, but what good had it done? Everyone in Lindsay Crossing knew what had happened, if not the specifics. To her knowledge no one else in town had been raped. It had taken Gwen’s experience to remind her that Lindsay Crossing was different than everywhere else, that other girls all over the world had suffered the same thing she had. It had taken Gwen to tell her that it hadn’t been her fault, her weakness. She sniffled as another swell of tears forced itself up from her heart. “You’re right.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “Riddick raped me and Megan is his daughter.” She felt Gwen stiffen beneath her, and a whimper escaped Loomis’s throat.
I can’t take it back!

“But Rick said Megan’s father is dead and buried.”

Loomis’s breath hitched. “He is. Rick came to save me, and they beat him. They thought I was down, but I got to the rifle and killed him.”

“
You
killed him?”

The inflection wasn’t lost on Loomis. Her trepidation eased somewhat at the knowledge that Gwen had only heard the rumors in town, gossip spread from that fateful night when Rick was found holding the rifle that had killed Riddick. “Yes. I did it. Not Rick.” She lay in silence, wondering if she’d ruined everything. Had Gwen ever killed anybody? Would she if given the necessity? The vision of Riddick crumpling to the ground, the shape of his head distorted by the bullet, replayed itself over and over in her memories, accompanied by opposing emotions of revulsion and gloating pleasure. Gwen moved beneath her, and Loomis’s heart flip-flopped. Her grip convulsed at Gwen’s waist.

“If you killed Riddick, than who the hell was that cracker in the city who told us about you?”

They stared at one another, noses inches apart. “I killed Cody Riddick. You knew his younger brother, Travis.”

Dim moonlight trickled in from the window as Gwen gaped at Loomis. “Riddick had a brother.” Despite being whispered the words conveyed sudden comprehension. “Now it makes sense.”

“What does?”

Gwen kissed Loomis’s forehead. “I’ve been banging my head against a wall trying to figure out how that asshole could have hurt you and died here, but died with us in the city. He never told us he had a brother.” A faint breath of air brushed the hair across Loomis’s brow as she scoffed. “An asshole brother just like himself. No wonder.”

Loomis refused to think about Travis. He’d dropped off her radar as soon as he and his friends had fled the barn the night of Cody’s death. Gwen seemed satisfied now that she knew the truth. Loomis frowned. Now that she had her answers, was that it? She tried to shore up the hole in her chest, preparing for Gwen’s rejection. With the puzzle solved, knowing that Loomis wasn’t some powerful leader in Lindsay Crossing, Gwen would have no problem moving to greener pastures.

Gwen dislodged her and scooted down the bed, turning on her side to look into Loomis’s eyes. “Why have you kept it a secret?”

“I don’t know.” Loomis tried to avoid the direct gaze, her lower lip trembling as the tears threatened anew. “I was…I was ashamed. My little brother walked in as Cody…finished. I didn’t know what else to do.” Her voice cracked, and the sob she struggled with forced itself from her throat. She sank into Gwen’s embrace, dismayed as she wept. “I was beaten, he was beaten. I didn’t ever want to talk about it again.” Gwen rocked Loomis, holding her close until the bout of tears faded, crooning nonsense words in the darkness.

When Loomis quieted again, Gwen asked, “Why does everyone think Rick did it?”

Weariness washed over Loomis. She closed her eyes, drinking in the intimacy. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself this indulgence. No one else in Lindsay Crossing had ever made her feel this way except Annie Faber, and her choice had been made when she’d hooked up with Malcolm Schneider. “He had the rifle when Annie showed up. Everyone just assumed, and we didn’t tell them any different.”

“And Cara?”

Loomis shook her head, fighting an exhausted yawn. “Rick insisted she be told. He said she had a right to know since she was family.”

Gwen caressed Loomis’s head, lightly massaging her temples. “Go to sleep, Marissa. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

A frisson of dread made Loomis open her eyes wide in an effort to combat slumber. “You’ll be here?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Marissa Loomis. You’ll have to tie me up like a sheep for fleecing.” She brushed her lips across Loomis’s eyes. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Relief washed away the last of Loomis’s tension. She allowed Gwen’s words to soothe her, and relaxed into the embrace. “Thank you.” Completely spent, she drifted to sleep, hardly hearing Gwen’s words.

“I will always be here for you,
querida
.”

***

Gwen woke with Loomis shifting fretfully in her arms. The sun had crested high enough to noticeably brighten the bedroom. That and the sound of quiet talk in the living area of the cabin indicated they had both overslept. She stretched, enjoying the feel of Loomis beside her, her movement bringing Loomis awake with a start. “Shhhh, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

Eyes wide and unseeing, it took a moment for Loomis to register her surroundings. She relaxed, blinked, and brought her hands up to rub at her eyes. “It’s late.”

“It’s okay.” Gwen smiled, reaching over to straighten the tousled auburn curls. “You deserve a few mornings of sleeping in after the last few weeks.” Loomis gave her a tentative look before throwing back the covers. “Oh, no.” Gwen captured Loomis’s waist, not allowing her to climb out of bed. The chill felt nice against the bare skin of her chest. “You ain’t going anywhere just yet, dime piece.” She smiled as Loomis’s troubled expression flickered and gave way to a faint smile. “I’m not done with you.”

“What are you planning?” Loomis didn’t fight Gwen’s embrace, pulling the covers back over the two of them.

“This.” Gwen leaned in for a kiss, prolonging the contact before gently teasing Loomis’s lips with her tongue. Loomis’s response was hesitant, and Gwen forced herself to keep her touch gentle as she explored Loomis’s mouth with her tongue. The moment she felt Loomis stiffen, she pulled back. “Butter.”

Loomis gave a breathless laugh. “What?”

“Butter.” Gwen ran her hand through Loomis’s hair once more. “Your kisses are as smooth and warm as butter, da bomb, diesel. You feel me?”

Her overuse of city slang elicited the desired response as Loomis laughed aloud. “I feel you.”

Pressing against Loomis, Gwen captured one of her hands, callused from a lifetime of farming and herding, bringing it beneath the covers and placing it upon her bare abdomen. “Then feel me, Marissa Loomis.” She licked her lips, arousal fluttering in her belly. “Please.” The sound of Loomis gulping almost made her laugh. She held Loomis against her with a light touch.

“Are you sure?” Loomis whispered.

“Very,” Gwen whispered back. Her fingers stroked the back of Loomis’s hand. “I know it’s scary. I won’t force you, but I really want to feel you touch me. I’ve wanted it for a while.”

Loomis’s brow flickered into a frown before clearing. Gwen wondered if she was pushing too hard, too soon. Before she could pull away, make light of the hesitation, Loomis rewarded her for her patience. Her fingers, cool from being outside the covers, quickly warmed to their task. With careful indecision they drew small circles at first, expanding in diameter as Loomis became emboldened. Soft desire exploded within Gwen. She sighed, a faint noise coming from her throat. Loomis wavered a split second before laying her palm fully on Gwen’s abdomen, caressing.

Gwen ached at points north and south. She felt her nipples swell in anticipation and schemed for a way to direct Loomis to her breasts. One look at Loomis dashed the idea. Loomis had her bottom lip between her teeth, staring with intensity at their blanket-covered bodies. Her hand trembled. Gwen couldn’t tell if she was turned on or terrified.

Don’t push it.
Heather had said only Loomis could toss her out of the homestead; there was no rush here. Even if she did get evicted, she planned to court Loomis at Festival every damned month, and show up for dinner three nights a week. Loomis would figure it out eventually.

Maybe it’s the not seeing.
As much as Gwen didn’t want to bare her bed-warm body to the chill of the room, letting Loomis have a look at her task might help ease her fears. She shifted, and Loomis froze, her gaze shooting up to stare at Gwen. “It’s all right.” Gwen pulled the blankets aside from her side of the bed, revealing herself without exposing Loomis to the cool room. She put her hand back on Loomis’s and gave it a squeeze. “I wanted you to see. I want you to see what you do to me.” Loomis’s mouth dropped open as she stared at her tanned hand against Gwen’s pale abdomen. Hesitant, she returned to her task, fascinated with the view. Gwen smiled, cocking her head on her pillow and reaching up to brush Loomis’s hair out of her face.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Gwen’s smile widened. “So are you. I sweat you big time, you know.”

Loomis eased up on her elbow to better follow her movements as her hand drifted across Gwen’s abdomen. “Sweat me?”

“I like you. A lot. I think you’re smoking hot, and have from the first minute I laid eyes on you.” Gwen wondered if she’d said something wrong as a frown passed across Loomis’s face. Remembering their last argument, the words Loomis had flung at her in anger, Gwen ran her hand behind Loomis’s neck, gripping it hard to draw her attention. “I saw you come into the church when we arrived, before I knew who you were. You and Rick were the last ones there. I thought you were scrumpalicious even then.”

They stared into one another’s eyes a moment before Loomis relaxed. “Can’t say as I thought the same.” She smiled.

Gwen snorted. “Small wonder. I looked like dog shit. Smelled like it too.”

“I didn’t want to say anything…”

She released Loomis’s neck to swat her on the upper arm, delighted in the chuckle she received for her efforts. She sobered. “I’m serious, Marissa. I know you don’t trust me or where I’m coming from, but there’s nobody else in Lindsay Crossing for me.”

Loomis studied her. “What if I run away? Start my own homestead someplace a thousand miles from here with no one around.”

Gwen cupped Loomis’s jaw, stroking her chin with a thumb. “Go slow. It’ll take me time to keep up.” The look she received was a morass of emotion. Gwen wished she could decipher it well enough to be certain. Disbelief, sure; uncertainty, of course; fear, a given. But there was something else, something indefinable in those hazel eyes, something that called to Gwen on a level she’d never heard before.

“I may hold you to that.”

“You won’t have to. I’ll hold myself to it.” Gwen shivered in reaction to the chill air and Loomis’s touch.

Loomis kissed her and climbed out of bed. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and get something to eat.”

Gwen sighed, wishing they could stay in bed. Instead, she put on clothes, silently adoring the knitted socks that warmed her feet. It might take all summer long to get Loomis comfortable. Gwen just had to be patient.

Loomis proved Gwen’s circumspection correct when she paused at the bedroom door and gave Gwen a kiss. Impishly, she grinned at Gwen’s surprise before throwing open the door and leaving the room. Licking her lips, Gwen muttered, “Patience. It’s supposed to be a virtue. Remember that.”

Gwen stood up with the others as the town council meeting finished, rubbing a sore shoulder as she prepared to leave.

“Hey, Loomis. You got a minute?” called Walker.

Holding back as people passed her in the aisle, Gwen turned. Walker waved from the church dais where members of the town council gathered. She smiled as Loomis apologetically shrugged. “Go on. I’ll wait outside for you.”

“I’ll make it quick.” Loomis gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

Gwen strolled out of the church, a smile on her face. She basked in the sunlight, letting it soak into her aching limbs. She lounged against the safety railing that had once protected the elderly from tumbling off the wheelchair ramp. In these more rustic times it had become a horse hitching post. Representatives of the outlying homesteads were collecting their animals and heading for home and a much-needed hot meal. She waved to those that were friendly and gave acknowledging nods to those less inclined.

She stared out at the road that had originally brought her here, reflecting on the last month. Things looked so different from when her blistered feet had walked that tarmac. Then she’d been starving, listless, and scared she was walking into a trap, or worse—a town full of renegades who would chase off the less fortunate. Now she stood on this stoop as someone belonging here, well-fed, dressed in hand-me-downs and homemade boots, and sore from a long day of hard work. It was like night and day. Riddick might be a swear word in these parts, but Gwen was glad he’d made his way to the city and Weasel’s crew.