Return To Stony Ridge. Dani Sinclair

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the rest of Stony Ridge had labeled R.J. a troublemaker and worse, Eric’s family had welcomed him into their home, treating him as they did all Eric’s friends, making him feel at ease the same way his foster parents had done.

      Lightning flared so close that a thunderclap rattled the windows. Without warning, the house plunged into cavernous black and abrupt silence, save for the howling of the wind and the battering rain.

      R.J. tore his thoughts from the past and swore. “Great. Just great.”

      Lucky suddenly flew to the front door. The low, deep growl of warning that issued from his throat captured R.J.’s full attention.

      “It’s just a storm, fella.”

      Lucky clawed at the door intently, demanding it open.

      “What’s wrong, boy?”

      Not a deer or squirrel. Not in this storm. And as the skies lit once more, he glimpsed a human figure running down the drive.

      Valerie?

      The surge of hope had him twisting the doorknob before his brain could assimilate how unlikely that was. She didn’t know where he lived.

      Lucky shouldered the door aside before he could grab the dog’s collar and bounded out into the storm.

      “Lucky! Get back here!”

      He might as well have ordered the wind. Lucky plunged down the steps as if all hell wasn’t breaking loose around him. R.J. cursed and went after him. He was pretty sure Lucky wouldn’t hurt anyone, but he’d never heard the big dog growl like that before.

      In a wicked display of light and noise, a large tree limb crashed to the ground, sprawling across the mouth of the driveway. The slender figure had been heading toward the tree line, but suddenly changed direction and ran toward the limb instead. The person was unaware of Lucky gaining at his heels.

      Devil’s forks plunged to earth around the pair with reckless abandon. They’d all be lucky if they weren’t skewered by flying debris or electrocuted by lightning.

      Rain hammered his bare skin, driving R.J.’s eyes nearly closed. He saw the figure begin to tug uselessly at the thick limb as Lucky caught up. Cursing under his breath, R.J. put on a burst of speed. By the time he reached them, the figure had backed against the fallen limb and was waving a large stick aggressively in Lucky’s direction.

      “Lucky! Sit!”

      Not that he expected the dog to obey even if he’d heard the shouted order over the storm. Lucky wasn’t real clear on commands. He knew what the words meant, he just wasn’t convinced they applied to him.

      Lucky barked. He cocked his head at the stick, as if trying to determine the rules of this new game. And the person was so intent on the dog that R.J. realized he’d gone unnoticed. As the person swung the stick at Lucky, R.J. reached out and intercepted the blow, wrenching the stick away. The person whirled to face this new threat as Lucky barked happily.

      Not Valerie, but a woman nonetheless. Her fear-filled eyes were as wild as the storm.

      “It’s okay,” he shouted to be heard over the storm. “He won’t hurt you. We’ve got to get inside!”

      “No!”

      There wasn’t time to argue. Energy sizzled in the air around them. Thunder bellowed and before she realized what he was going to do, he stepped forward and lifted her off her feet. She screamed and fought him as he slung her over his shoulder like a sack of wet cement.

      Except cement would have been more cooperative. There wasn’t an ounce of cooperation in this sodden woman. He had to pin her legs so she couldn’t kick him, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about the hands that pummeled his bare back.

      Lucky barked his approval of this new and exciting game. Lightning momentarily blinded him as he hurried back up the drive with his burden. R.J. figured if they made it back inside without getting killed, it would be a miracle.

      By the time he mounted the steps, he was breathing heavily. He opened the door, took four steps inside and dumped her on her feet. She scrambled away, stumbling in her haste. He ignored her to close and lock the door behind Lucky, who promptly began to shake the water free from his fur all over the hall.

      “Lucky, no!” He made another grab for the animal’s collar. “Not in here! Come on, we’ll go to the mudroom…”

      His voice tapered off as he found himself facing the business end of a small but lethal-looking gun.

      “…or not.”

      She’d backed against the far wall. Her wide eyes had lost only a little of that frenzied wildness he had glimpsed outside.

      Frustrated and more than a little annoyed, R.J. stared at the weapon in her hand. Even if he and Lucky had scared her half to death, the idea that she’d pull a gun on him in his own house made him angry.

      “Put that thing away,” he demanded.

      She took a shuddery breath. “Not a chance.”

      As though finally sensing the dangerous atmosphere between the humans, Lucky plopped to a sitting position at R.J.’s feet, gazing between them with soulful eyes. His whine seemed to ask what had gone wrong.

      “Stay where you are,” she commanded.

      With a quick shake of her own head, she tossed back long matted strands of hair, sending droplets of water flying much as Lucky had done.

      The low-voiced contralto was husky and a bit shaky, but she was in control, which was a major relief. At least she wouldn’t pull the trigger by accident.

      She was a bedraggled sight with her sodden hair plastered to her head and face. Her jacket and jeans were sopping wet, as well. She reminded him of a drowned puppy. One with teeth, he decided, eyeing the gun.

      “I’m not going to hurt you.”

      “You’ve got that right.”

      She had guts he’d give her that much.

      “Look, I’m sorry if I scared you, but we couldn’t stand around out there and you didn’t look as though you were going to listen to reason.”

      “I said, don’t move!”

      He halted the step he’d started to take in her direction. She was scared. Scared people with guns were apt to do stupid things. Like shoot someone.

      “Fine. I’m not moving. What are you doing here?”

      He knew he sounded angry, but staring down the barrel of a gun seemed to have that effect on him.

      “Trying to leave,” she retorted.

      “Great! Don’t let me stop you.”

      Her eyes narrowed. “You just did.”

      “My mistake. Go.” He waved a hand toward the door.

      She glared as more

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