Free Deep in the Heart by Sharon Sala Page A

Pulaski said, and hung up.
    John Thomas frowned as the line went dead. He set the receiver carefully in place, and then covered his face with his hands.
    “Horseshit.”
    “Bad news?” Carol Ann asked.
    John Thomas smiled. It was not an expression of joy. The look on his face made the dispatcher shiver.
    “Well hell, Carol Ann, in this business is there any other kind?”
    The door slammed behind him as he headed for his truck. The last thing he wanted to do was go home and tell Samantha what he’d just learned, and then watch the smile die on her face.
    But while it might be the last thing he wanted, he had no choice. Before the night was over, what he’d learned would put fear back into her world.

5
    R EBEL BARKED ONCE at the sound of a pickup truck pulling to a stop outside, and then dropped his chin back onto his paws and refocused his attention on the woman who was standing at the kitchen sink.
    Samantha looked at the soulful expression on the dog’s face and laughed, using her wooden stirring spoon for a pointer as she waved him out of the kitchen.
    “If that’s the best you can do, then get, you worthless animal,” she said, and looked up to see John Thomas standing in the kitchen doorway with an odd expression on his face.
    “But I just got here,” he said. “Can’t I eat before you run me out?”
    She grinned. “I didn’t mean you,” she said. “I was talking to Rebel.”
    “Talking to dogs now, are you?”
    She heard the laughter in his voice and knew that she was being made sport of.
    “At least he doesn’t argue with me,” Samantha said.
    His smile disappeared as he turned away to hang his hat on the hook inside the door. She could tell Johnny was trying too hard to be congenial and that wasn’t like him. Something was bothering him. Samantha could feel it. But she supposed if he wanted to talk about it, he’d do so in his own good time.
    “I’m going to wash up and change,” he said. “Be back in a minute to help you finish up supper.”
    As he walked away, she noted the stiff set of his shoulders, and the way he all but stomped from the room. Being the sheriff of an entire county had to have its drawbacks, as well as its rewards. Obviously, today the former had outweighed the latter.
    In his room, John Thomas slammed his gun and holster up on the closet shelf and then dropped onto the edge of the bed. The springs creaked loudly under his weight.
    He unbuckled his belt, yanked his shirt from the waist of his pants, and then pulled sharply at the collar. Snaps gave way to the angry insistence of his fingers. He closed his eyes and inhaled, wishing that his news wasn’t going to wipe the smile from her face. And as he tried to relax, he absorbed the changes her presence had made in his solitary life.
    His house was old but sturdy, with pine walls and floors. There was nothing on the floors to soften the sound of boot-heels on wood, and nothing on the walls but paint. It was a man’s house, and he liked it that way.
    At least he had until lately. Now he caught himself thinking about Sam’s bare feet, and how they sounded on the naked boards as she walked down the hallway during the night. He inhaled again and caught the good, homey smells of food cooking and the faintest hint of soap and powder. He’d bet a month’s wages that she’d crawled out of a bath less than an hour or so ago. His gut clenched just thinking about her naked body and how it would look all wet and soapy.
    “This is getting me nowhere,” he muttered, and grabbed the heel of one of his boots and pulled. It wouldn’t budge, and he cursed the heat of the day for swelling his feet inside them.
    “Need some help?” Samantha asked.
    He straightened, a little surprised by her presence, then told himself not to read anything into it. They met each other look for look as they took the other’s measure. Finally he nodded.
    It was only then that she moved from the doorway and into his room.
    “Hike your leg,” she