Loving her cries of pleasure, he slowly swirled the hard nub of her arousal with his tongue as he slid his finger in, then out, of her.

How could he have thought that he’d ever get enough of her? What an idiot he’d been.

And then, she was kicking off the sheets and sliding down his torso, her ni**les branding his chest, and he was almost too deep in his fog of desire to realize that she had opened her legs and wrapped them around his waist.

Oh God, it felt so good when she took him inside, high and deep, again and again until he was losing control and they were driving into each other, making up for lost time with each thrust.

It was so easy to say “I love you” again, and then she was moaning his name and her inner muscles were pulling and squeezing his shaft as he roared with pleasure.

In the aftermath of their lovemaking, their stomachs full, their bodies sated, they held each other tight and slept.

———

The man’s eyes hadn’t left the girl all night long, partly to make sure she didn’t escape, partly to make sure she didn’t die on him before her sister arrived. He hadn’t known his own strength until now, hadn’t realized he could hit quite so hard.

Even though he’d barely slept in two days, he wasn’t particularly tired. Not when rage still fueled him.

The previous evening, he’d left the campgrounds utterly furious. There hadn’t been a single opening for him to grab Dianna. Not with the big fireman hovering around her like an annoying fly. But he had listened in from the sidelines when they spoke with the police, knew they were staying up at Peter Cohen’s Farm. Twenty years ago, they’d had mutual friends, but Peter had ended up being more into peace than selling pot, disappearing up into the woods soon after to live with his green-loving friends, far away from the meth-soaked kids who made for good business.

He’d realized, then, that he had to come up with an alternative plan. And then he hit on it, the perfect bait, a clue to finding her sister that she couldn’t resist following up on.

The girl had been limp, pale, and sweaty by the time he lifted her out of his trunk and dragged her back inside her closet. Perhaps he’d left her there for too long in the sun, with little oxygen, he thought dispassionately. At least she was still breathing.

He’d immediately paid Mickey off and told him not to return. The rest of his motley little drug-making staff was still on mini holiday as well, which left him alone with the girl. He could have easily made use of her unconscious body, but besides the fact that he’d never been into blondes, sex wasn’t so much as a blip on his radar now. Revenge alone drove him.

He’d been sorely tempted to put his plan into motion that evening, but he could see that the major storm blowing through might complicate things. Knowing that the limp girl in the closet clearly wasn’t going anywhere, not in her current condition anyway, and that the flash rains would die out by morning, he decided to bide his time, let his rage simmer a little longer.

At sunrise, he stepped outside and saw that it was, indeed, another beautiful day in the Rockies.

The perfect day for a murder. Two, in fact.

Five minutes after making a short phone call on an untraceable line, he grabbed his keys, laced up his hiking boots, and headed out the door.

Dianna Kelley—and her broad-shouldered boyfriend—were about to walk straight into his trap.

CHAPTER TWENTY

SAM’S EYES opened as the first rays of light were finding their way in through the sheer curtains. Waking up with Dianna warm in his arms was as good as it got.

“Good morning,” she said, rubbing against him like a frisky cat. He began kissing her, but just as his hands and mouth were getting carried away, loud knocking sounded at the front door.

Dianna yanked herself out of his arms, gasping in alarm.

“I’ll go see who it is,” he said, his instincts immediately telling him this wasn’t another tray of food.

Something had happened.

Peter was standing on the porch looking uneasy. “The police called. They just received a tip about April.”

“We’ll be right out,” he said, turning to find Dianna standing close behind him, still wrapped in the sheet.

He put his hands on her shoulders and when she looked up at him he read fear, hope, even her love for him on her face.

“Whatever we find out today, you’re going to be all right.”

She took a deep breath before giving a shaky nod. They quickly dressed, then crossed the narrow decking toward Peter’s house, where he was waiting for them by the phone.

Dianna picked up the phone and identified herself, listening intently as the police gave her the information.

Her voice was strained as she said, “But every minute counts,” then, “Later today?” and “When will that be, exactly?”

Hanging up, she said, “The police officers we met yesterday wanted to let me know that although they didn’t learn anything from the witnesses they interviewed yesterday at the campground, they did just receive an anonymous tip from someone saying he’d seen April heading off on one of the trails yesterday.”

As a wildland firefighter, Sam knew that although anonymous tips could be useful, they often weren’t worth a damn. He suspected this was what the police had been explaining to her.

“Which trail?” Peter asked.

“Notch Mountain,” she said, her expression almost angry. “The police said they’re definitely going to follow up.” She used her fingers as quotation marks. “‘When we can,’ were his exact words.”

Sparks shot from her green eyes. “When I pressed him on it, he said part of the problem is that it will take them a while to get someone up to such a remote location. But I’m not willing to wait for the police. I’ve got to go check out that trail myself. Because if someone thought they saw her …”

Sam knew Dianna was desperate to take action, and although he hadn’t yet made up his mind about their next move, he pulled out the map Peter had given them the day before.

“Show us where the trail is.”

Peter ran his finger along the paper. “It runs five miles from here to here.”

Sam studied the map for a moment. “I don’t see an access to that trail from this property.”

“Actually,” Peter said, “there is a private trail system that locals have used in these mountains for many years that leads straight to it.”