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Fat, wet tears rolled down her face and dripped onto the newly stripped floors.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
Then a full-out sob heaved out of her.
    “Shit.” Any of the strength she had left, any remnants of energy, drained out of her with the salty teardrops. The events of the night and lack of sleep hit her all at once, and she was too exhausted to defend against it. She shoved the sander aside, took off the other glove, and braced her hands on her thighs, the sobs coming in wracking gasps.
    She was going to mess up the floors, but she couldn’t stop. She wasn’t a crier. She
hated
crying. In her first placement after her grandmother died, she’d had a foster brother who’d teased her because she’d cried every day. He’d point it out toeveryone and call her a baby. One day, she’d dipped his toothbrush in the toilet because she’d been tired of taking his shit. She’d gotten caught. That’d been the end of that placement. Not a loss at the time. But she wondered sometimes if she’d stuck that one out, if she would’ve been saved from a lot worse later on.
    But that’s one reason why she’d come here. If she was going to fall apart, she could do it here, alone. Safe and away from prying eyes. No one needed to see her like this. No one would call her a baby or think she was weak or prey on that vulnerability.
    So she let the tears overtake her. Maybe if she exorcised them now, she could move the hell on and forget that she’d almost been raped outside the bar, that she hadn’t been able to protect herself. That she’d failed.
    But right as the heaving sobs started to quiet, the ache in her chest turning hollow and spent, something sounded outside the window. A snap. Like a twig. The noise shouldn’t freak her out. Random critters wandered into this area all the time. Wild rabbits mostly. But her body reacted like it was a major threat, her muscles tensing and her breath stalling. The tears cut off in an instant and all her senses went on alert.
    Whatever the noise had been, it hadn’t set off Mr. Darcy. Sam had put the border collie mix upstairs so he wouldn’t get himself hurt while she worked. But that didn’t mean much. Darcy was a decent watchdog, but he was old and slept hard. She closed her eyes and listened, trying to focus. A soft wind was blowing through the trees and grasses outside, a whispering whir. Birds were starting to greet the dawn. Nothing sinister. Just the lovely, quiet sounds of the country. She sighed and swiped her hands over her face.
Calm down, Twitchy. Breathe.
    But before she could complete the breath, a booming knock rocketed through the farmhouse, rattling the door and sending a scream right up her throat. Darcy barked from upstairs. Sam clamped her hands over her mouth just in time to cut off the scream. But she scrambled to her feet and turned toward the front doorway like the Big Bad Wolf was about to bust through.
    Whoever this was, it couldn’t be good. It was too early and this house was too far out for it to be someone selling something. She needed to get to the bedroom and get the gun she kept in there. But the windows in the living room had thin curtains, and she’d have to cross that room to get to the stairs. What if whoever it was saw her?
    Fuck.
Her hands shook. There were knives in the kitchen. That’d be something. She took a step that way when the banging came again, each knock a jolt of electric anxiety through her.
    But just as she made it to the doorway of the kitchen, a familiar voice echoed through the house. “Sam, it’s Gib. I know you’re here. Open up.”
    Every tight muscle in her body sagged in relief. Gibson. It was Gibson. Not an ax murderer in a hockey mask. Okay.
Okay.
    But then as soon as that thought settled—
I’m safe
—another one hit. It was
Gibson
.
    She had no idea how he’d found her, but she’d told him to leave her alone when she’d left the Ranch. And she was a freaking mess right now. If she’d wanted his help, she would’ve