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Lainie swallowed hard, feeling the embarrassing sting of tears. "I ... I'll miss you, Vi."
She smiled, though her eyes were misty, too. "Didn't you learn anyt'ing from all dat reading, child? Dere ain't no good-bye in dis life. You and Killian and I ... we always be together, somehow." She pressed a thin, cool hand to Lainie's cheek. "You are stronger dan you t'ink you are, Alaina. You will make it home."
Lainie stepped back reluctantly, put distance between herself and the first friend she'd made in years. She knew this moment, recognized its poignant sharpness all too well. Viloula could say whatever she wanted, but Lainie wasn't fooled. If there was one thing she did believe in in this life, it was this moment, this word. She'd said it too many times. Too many .. .
"Good-bye, Viloula." Fighting tears, she turned and ran for the door.
"Believe, Alaina," Viloula whispered.
Then the door slammed shut behind her, and Lainie was alone. She leaned back against the cold, splintery wood and closed her eyes. Unconsciously she reached for the medallion at her throat. Curling her fingers around the stone, she felt its comforting weight. A strange calm seeped through her. She let out a long breath and sagged against the door.
"So," hissed a masculine voice in her ear. "You stole the old woman's necklace."
Lainie's eyes popped open.
Mose was standing beside her, a rifle cradled negligently against his chest. Black, beady eyes drilled her.
Stay calm. Lainie knew about men like Mose; they fed off fear. It gave them an edge that they wielded like a sharp sword. She gave him a slow, deliberate smile. "Why, hello, Mose. I was just saying good night to my grandmother."
"If you're Viloula's grandkid, I'm Grover Cleveland."
She forced a cocky smile. "Hello, Mr. President."
His dark, swarthy face pulled into a heavy frown. "Don't get smart with me, lady. I'm just itchin' to kill you."
She wanted to draw back, but stood her ground. The overpowering stench of bad breath laced with whiskey slammed into her nostrils. "Then you'll have to kill Killian, too."
A deadly smile curved his mouth. "You think I wouldn't?"
Lainie swallowed hard. "I know you would, Mose."
"You got twenty-four hours."
"To do what?"
He pressed closer, rubbed himself against her leg, and brought his face into the crook of her neck. She stiffened, feeling the shooting heat of his moist breath along her skin. The wet tip of his tongue flicked up her neck.
She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, barely breathing.
He pulled back just enough to stare into her eyes. His gaze was cold and dead and dangerous. "Tomorrow I'm gonna take over this camp, and when I'm leader ..."
220
He licked his thick lips, left a trail of spittle behind. "You're mine."
"Yeah, right," she said throatily.
He leaned close, shoved his hand between her legs, and squeezed. "You must be good?Killian ain't had a woman up here in years."
Lainie wrenched away. Shoving past him, she ran for the cabin. His throaty laughter nipped at her heels, spurred her to run faster. When she reached Killian's cabin, she was breathing hard, and fear was a cold, throbbing coil in her stomach.
At the door, she stumbled to a stop and glanced back.
Mose used his rifle to tip his hat back. Then, still laughing, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the drinking tent.
Lainie let out a sigh of relief. She stood there a long time, staring at the door, until her breathing was normalized. Then, slowly, she went inside.
Chapter Seventeen
