Final Scream (11 page)

The words balled up in her throat. “I don’t—” He tilted back his head and she knew she was falling into the trap of lying again—to protect her dignity as well as her pride. “I—I guess I, um, don’t like her manipulating you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

“You don’t know her.”

“Maybe not yet. But I will.”

Cassidy’s heart seemed to shatter. “She’ll hurt you and use you and—”

“I don’t think so.” He dropped his hand, and his gaze seemed to soften a little. “I’m askin’ again. What do you care?”

“I just don’t like it when she tries to twist men around her fingers.”

“She hasn’t twisted me.”

“Yet.”

“She asked me to go to that big deal of a party thrown by Judge Caldwell.”

“I heard. You said you’d go.”

His smile turned brittle. “Me and The Judge. We go way back.”

Cassidy had heard stories, of course, rumors about Brig’s wild youth. How he’d nearly killed his brother once with a gun that neither boy thought was loaded. Chase still bore the scar of a bullet hole in his shoulder. The weapon, a small pistol that one of Sunny’s men-friends had inadvertently left at her trailer, had been returned to the man. There had been other stories as well, but for some reason, no charges had ever been filed against Brig. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go with Angie,” she blurted suddenly.

“No?” Brig’s fingers curled into a fist, which he used to lift her chin so that she would have to meet his eyes. “Why not? Won’t I fit in?”

“That’s not the reason,” she said, barely able to breathe. The night seemed to close around them.

“Then what is?” He lowered his head, closer to hers, staring at her with such an intensity that she felt as if she was burning inside. “Maybe you’re jealous.”

“No,” she whispered and he smiled.

“There you go lying again, Cass. Didn’t I tell you it doesn’t suit you?”

Cassidy knew he was going to kiss her, yet when his lips brushed gently over hers, she wasn’t prepared for the quake that slid down her entire body or the feel of him so close—the smell of him so earthy and male.

With a groan, he grabbed her roughly, drawing her fast against the hard angles of his body. Lips that had been so gentle turned rough. Cassidy’s blood began to pound in her temples. The tip of his tongue slid like a supple knife against the seam of her lips, and she opened her mouth to him. Groaning, he gathered her closer still, dragging her willing body against his, crushing her breasts to the unyielding wall of his chest.

Her heart was thundering, her blood pumping wildly. It seemed the most natural act in the world when his knees buckled and he pulled her onto the ground. His kisses turned anxious, his tongue flicking across the roof of her mouth, sending ripples of pleasure through her limbs.

“Cass,” he murmured into her open mouth.

His hands moved easily over her sweatshirt and dipped beneath the hem. He touched one small nipple with his thumb and she gasped, her abdomen pressing against her spine.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he said as his fingers joined his thumb and he gently kneaded one small mound. She couldn’t answer, didn’t dare breathe, and when he lifted her sweatshirt, dragging it over her head, exposing her breasts to the light of the pale moon, she closed her eyes.

Feeling the chain holding her St. Christopher’s medal, he paused. “Still wearing this?”

“Always.”

He picked up the silver disk; it winked in the moonlight.

He held the disk between her breasts, pushing the engraved metal against her skin. Closing his eyes, he shook his head, as if to regain his composure, as if he was going to stop, and she, heart beating, drew his head down and kissed him again, her inexperienced tongue pushing eagerly into his mouth. He groaned a protest. “Cassidy—”

Her fingers splayed over the soft fabric of his shirt, instinctively searching for his flat nipples.

“Don’t—” he whispered.

“Please—”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I know I’m with you.” She kissed him hard and he responded, giving in to the demands of his body. Rough hands moved expertly over her skin, sending shivers down her spine, and stoking fires deep within her, dark sweet fires he stoked so well.

“Tell me no, Cass—” he said, still touching her and causing sweet sensations to spark through her blood. “For God’s sake.” His arms surrounded her and he drew her upward, forcing her spine to curve away from the ground as he touched a nipple with the tip of his tongue. A tremor ripped through her and he groaned, his breath hot against her wet skin. She arched upward and his lips surrounded her breast, drawing, tasting, sucking hungrily.

Her body ground against his, her fingers curling in the thick strands of his hair. A deep, moist need began to awaken and yawn between her legs.

The world seemed to blur as the hand at the base of her spine pulled her closer still and she felt a stiff bulge beneath his fly. Soft, worn denim couldn’t hide his erection, and he rubbed it against her cutoffs.

One hand slid up the inseam of her shorts, touching the elastic of the leg of her panties. He shifted, so that he could slip his finger past the flimsy barrier of cloth.

Cassidy’s mouth went dry, and she cried out as his fingers parted her, exploring and touching. She gripped his head, and his teeth pulled on her nipple as he touched a part of her she hadn’t known existed. The world began to spin as he stroked her, and she moved with his rhythm, breathing hard and fast, holding him tight as a pressure, sweet and dark, built inside her, a pressure so blinding that she thought of nothing other than moving with him. She thought she might explode and still he worked, his finger dipping in and out, his tongue licking her skin.

“That’s a girl,” he whispered across her nipple as she began to gasp in sharp little breaths. “Let go.”

“Brig—”

“Come on, darlin’. It’s all right. I’m here.”

Her body convulsed. The ground shifted beneath her, and her bones seemed to melt as the stars behind her eyes collided.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, feeling his hand withdraw, leaving that which was once white hot instantly cold. “Oh, God. Oh, God.” And all at once it was over. She let out a shaky breath. He rolled away from her with a curse and left her breathless and covered with a sheen of her own perspiration.

“Brig?” she whispered, once her heartbeat had slowed. She heard him strike a match and watched as the flame illuminated his face.

“You’re a virgin.” He drew hard on his cigarette; it glowed bright in the dark.

Why did it sound like an insult? “I’m only sixteen.”

“Hell.” He wiped a hand over his brow and shot out a stream of smoke.

“You knew how old I was.”

He smoked in silence, and she was suddenly embarrassed, as if somehow she’d disappointed him. “Cover up, would you?”

She looked down at her breasts, small and white with nipples that were larger than usual, and she felt ashamed. Compared to Angie, her breasts were so small and…Angrily she threw her sweatshirt over her head. “What is it you want from me?”

“Nothin’!”

“Nothing?
After what just happened?”

“Nothin’ happened.”

“How can you say that after…” Her voice cracked.

“So you came. Big deal.”

She was shocked. Was that what had happened? She’d come—had an orgasm? “But you…you didn’t.” She knew enough about bulls and stallions, and what men did, to realize that he’d somehow denied himself. Or that he didn’t want to go all the way with her.

“Look, Cass, if you’re horny, you can do yourself. You don’t need me.”

“You mean—?” She drew away, disgusted.

“Happens all the time.” Standing, he dusted off his hands on his jeans.

“I don’t want to—”

“Then don’t. It’s none of my business.” He stared at her, and disgust curved the corners of his mouth. “Are you ready to leave?” he said, dropping his cigarette onto a boulder and squashing it with the toe of his boot. “Maybe we should try to find your horse.”

“And just forget that we nearly—?”

He reached down and hauled her to her feet. “As I said,
nothin’
happened. It was no big deal. I got a little carried away and thought you should at least experience what it’s like to get your rocks off, that’s all!”

“Bull! You felt it, too!” she said, stung.

“I
feel
it with a lot of girls.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Including your sister!” he said, and Cassidy felt as if the flick of a whip had cut through her heart.

She shrank away from him. “You couldn’t!” she cried. “Not now. Now when you just—!”

“You saw us by the pool.”

“But—”

“You should’ve stuck around for the real show.” His mouth twisted into a grim, bitter line. “Maybe then you could’ve learned something. Your sister, she’s a real hot pants!”

With a gasp, Cassidy hauled back and slapped him so hard that the sound ricocheted off the surrounding hills.

He grabbed her arms and held them high over her head. “Don’t hit me,” he warned, his face turning savage in the darkness. “And take tonight as a lesson. Don’t be giving it away for free to just any boy.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You nearly did.”

Angling her face up to him, she said, “I thought
nothing
happened.”

He snorted. “Only because I’m so goddamned noble.”

“I love you!”

He froze and silence prevailed over the night-washed land. She stared him straight in the eye.

“Cassidy,” he said and his voice gentled. “You don’t have to try and mix up lust and love. You…you wanted to experiment and see what it was like to get laid and that’s not really all that bad, except when it becomes an obsession like with your sister, but shit, you don’t have to tell a guy you love him just because he got into your pants.”

“I wouldn’t let anyone in I didn’t love.”

“Oh, hell—”

“I love you, Brig McKenzie, and I wish I didn’t.” She inched her chin up a notch, and he shook his head. Some of the hard edges left his features, but a trace of sadness touched his eyes.

“You don’t love me and I don’t love you. And we’re never,
never
going to have this conversation again.” Slowly he lowered her arms and released her. “What happened between us a few minutes ago is over. I made a mistake. I thought I was doing you a favor—”

“Like hell, you wanted me!”

“Just because a guy gets a hard-on—”

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with renewed passion borne of desperation. He was trying to break it off with her before it ever got started. “I love you, Brig,” she said and his body tensed, but he didn’t shove her away and his lips held hers. His arms surrounded her, pulling her close against him, muscle straining against muscle, heart pounding next to heart. His groan was one of tortured surrender, and she felt him dragging her down to the ground again only to stiffen his sagging knees.

“No!” he growled, throwing her away from him so that she stumbled backward and nearly fell. “Don’t you get it, Cassidy? This isn’t right. You’re jailbait and I’m on probation with your father as it is!” He strode over to his horse, grabbed the reins and tossed a look over his shoulder. “Coming?”

Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment and tears threatened her throat and eyes, but she found some bit of dignity and nodded.

“Good.” He slapped the reins in her hands. “Go home and go to bed. I’ll take care of Remmington.”

“No, I’ll—”

“Don’t be silly, Cass. This is the only way it’ll work.”

Her fingers curved over the soft leather straps, and humiliated beyond belief, she climbed into the saddle. Yanking on the reins, she eyed him from astride the gelding. “You know, Brig, you can say anything you want and believe whatever makes you feel better, but I love you and I probably always will.”

He glared up at her but didn’t move.

The horse twisted and reared as she added, “In the future, please, don’t do me any more favors!”

The sun wasn’t yet up, but the first rooster of morning crowed from a farm in the distance and the hills to the east began to silhouette against the coming dawn. The colt was dead tired, head low, ears pricked forward as he stood in a corner of the field. “You miserable son of a bitch,” Brig muttered. Remmington’s usually glossy coat was dusty, his eyes wild. “You’re lucky I don’t have a gun or I’d shoot you myself and sell you for dog food right here and now!”

Remmington snorted, challenging him.

“Run and I swear, I’ll track you down and kill you.” But the horse was beat and it took little coaxing to grab hold of the dangling reins and climb onto his back. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before running off.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth.” Clucking his tongue, Brig dug his heels into the colt’s sides and decided they had a lot in common. They were both rebels, ready to buck authority at every turn. He let the horse walk or lope slowly through the connecting fields, but he wanted to get back before Mac and the rest of the hands showed up for work.

It was daybreak when Brig rode into the paddocks surrounding the stable. The first lights in the big house were already glowing. No doubt the cook and servants were scurrying around trying to get the day ready for the Buchanan royalty. Soon Mac would drive into the yard, and though Brig had worked a full day and been up all night, he would be expected to put in another eight or ten or twelve hours.

But that wasn’t the hard part. Facing Cassidy would be the real test. He’d been a fool last night, letting his emotions off their usually taut rein. He hadn’t planned on kissing her, or touching her, or nearly stripping her of her virginity, for Christ’s sake, but he hadn’t been able to put on the brakes. He’d damn near climbed onto her willing body and taken her regardless of the fact that she was only sixteen and the daughter of his boss.

It was sick how he was attracted to her—a little mite of a thing who didn’t know up from sideways when it came to men or sex.

Unlike Angie. He gritted his teeth, damning himself for his weakness where the Buchanan women—make that
girls
—were concerned. Though Angie’s blatant sexuality disgusted him, he couldn’t help being a little turned on whenever she was around.

God, if Chase could see him now!

He never thought he’d have this kind of woman trouble, where the most sought-after female in Prosperity was chasing him down and he was attracted to her spitfire of a little sister. What was wrong with him?

Not bothering with the lights, he led the horse into the stable and felt, rather than saw, another person. Willie, no doubt. He had a room over the stable. “What’re you doin’ up so early?” he asked, as he reached for a pail to get the colt some water.

“You cock-sucking bastard!” A fist slammed into his face.

Brig’s head snapped back. Pain exploded in his jaw. He spun against the wall and could barely breathe.

His fists clenched instinctively. “What the hell—?” Rounding on his heel, he hadn’t recovered before his attacker threw another punch. The knuckles on the man’s hand popped. Brig’s jaw cracked again. He hit the floor with a thud and rolled instinctively toward the door.

“Stay away from her!”

As Brig’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he recognized Derrick, his face flushed and twisted in rage, his eyes bright with hate. The smell of used whiskey filled the air. “You hear me, McKenzie? You keep the fuck away from my sister!”

Cassidy’s image seared through his mind. “I haven’t—”

“I’ve seen you, you bastard. You’re droolin’ all over yourself.” He kicked at Brig, but this time Brig was ready. His hands wrapped around Derrick’s polished boot and twisted hard. “Wha—” Derrick lost his balance and landed on his back. Smack! His head bounced against the wall. “I’ll kill you!” he roared. “I’ll cut off your fuckin’ balls.”

Horses neighed and Brig backed up as Derrick scrambled to his feet and reached into his pocket. With a sharp click, his switchblade flashed deadly.

Brig’s insides froze. “Go sober up, Buchanan,” Brig advised, wiping at the blood that drizzled from his nostril, keeping his eyes trained on the knife, watching Derrick struggle to his feet. “Or else I might have to hurt you.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” Derrick’s smile was pure evil. “Well, try it, McKenzie. Just try it.”

“Leave it alone, Derrick.”

“You’ve been with her, haven’t ya? Gettin’ into her panties—”

“Shut up.” Guilt burned through his brain.

“I know it. I’ve seen you and I’m not the only one; the half-wit, he’s seen you, too. Been mouthin’ off about it.” Derrick wiggled his knife in the darkness. “You’re a no-good bastard son of a bitch, McKenzie. White trash that needs to be taught a lesson.” He lunged again, but Brig moved, rolling quickly onto the balls of his feet and reaching into his pocket for his jackknife. Crouched and ready, he wanted nothing more than to take Derrick down a peg or two.

Derrick’s knife sliced the air, slashing in a wide arc. Brig ducked, but not before the blade carved an arch in his shirt, the fabric ripping, the point of the knife burning into his skin.

Brig pounced, leaping onto Derrick’s back, holding his knife against Derrick’s throat.

“What the fuck!” With a swift kick, Brig’s heel smashed against Derrick’s knee. “Christ!”

Shifting his weight, making the drunk fall down, Brig was on him in an instant, pinning him down, knife at his throat, nostrils quivering. “You rich bastard, don’t you ever insinuate—”

“What the hell’s going on here?” The door flew open and a switch clicked. The stable was suddenly awash with flickering fluorescent light. Tall and furious, Mac loomed in the doorway, his weathered face a mask of hatred. “Didn’t I tell you I didn’t want any trouble, McKenzie?”

“The bastard’s trying to kill me!” Derrick yelled.

“Get off him!” Mac ordered.

Brig hesitated.

“Now, McKenzie! Move it!”

Snapping his knife closed, Brig crawled off Derrick and shoved the jackknife deep into his pocket. With the back of his hand, he wiped the blood that oozed from the corner of his mouth and stained the front of his shirt.

Derrick, smelling of liquor and smoke, climbed to his feet. “He jumped me when I came in to check on the horses.”

“That so?” Mac’s eyes thinned, as if he were weighing the truth in Derrick’s words. “Since when’re you interested in the stock?”

“Hey—I care about this place. Gonna own it someday.”

“You smell like a brewery.”

“I had a couple of drinks. So what? Anyway, this son of a bitch was waitin’ for me. Jumped me from behind.”

“That so, McKenzie?” Mac eyed Brig’s shirt, pulled down the cut flap and frowned at the semicircle of blood where Derrick’s blade had scratched Brig’s chest.

Brig had been down this road too many times to care. “It happened just like he said except he got the names twisted around. He jumped me.”

“You lying bastard. You know what happened.”

“Shut up, Derrick. Let him tell his side of it.” Mac wasn’t taking any crap from either of them. His gaze bored into Brig. “So what were you doin’ here this time of day?”

He could lie and say that he’d come to work early, but Derrick knew better, had seen him with the horse. His motorcycle wasn’t parked in its usual spot, and he was wearing the same clothes he’d worked in the day before. But if he told the truth, he’d get Angie and Cassidy in trouble. “Cassidy’s horse got loose last night. It took a while to find him.”

The lines on Mac’s face seemed to deepen. “Got loose where?”

“Out in the north pasture, by the old sawmill. Cassidy’s been pesterin’ me to ride him and I thought I’d give him a trial run first, make sure she could handle him. Trouble was he shied at a snake and threw me. I spent the next nine hours tryin’ to track him down.”

“You lost a fifty-thousand-dollar colt?” Mac demanded.

“Found him again. Unharmed.”

“Jesus H. Christ!” Mac lifted his hat and shot stiff fingers through his hair.

“That’s what happens when you hire fuckin’ trash,” Derrick snarled. “Can’t even stay on the horse. What kind of a ranch hand do you think you are, McKenzie?”

“Enough!” Rex Buchanan’s voice boomed through the stable, and Derrick’s lips curved into a smirk. “What in the Sam Hill is goin’ on? The noise you all are makin’ is enough to raise the dead. Holy Mother of Mary, look at you!” he said upon seeing his son. Derrick’s hair was mussed, filthy from rolling on the floor; cobwebs, dust and hay stuck to his head. A welt was forming under his eye. “What happened…” Then his gaze landed on Brig and his spine seemed to stiffen, vertebra by vertebra. “Derrick?”

“He jumped me when I came into the stable.”

Rex’s eyebrows inched up. “That so, McKenzie?”

“Other way around.”

Mac glowered at the two younger men. “McKenzie, here, claims he got throwed off Cassidy’s colt and spent the night trying to find him. When he got back, Derrick was waitin’ for him.”

“You believe him?” Rex asked Mac.

The foreman looked from Brig to Derrick and back again. “Someone’s got to be lyin’.” He rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “McKenzie here isn’t a fool and I don’t think he’d risk his ass by attacking your boy here. Derrick’s been drinking and—”

“All right, so I took a swing at him,” Derrick admitted angrily, “but he deserved it. I’ve seen him with Angie, Dad. Kissing her and touching her and—well, hell, for all I know he might’ve already—”

“Don’t even think it,” Rex growled, but his eyes had turned as dark as midnight, his lips white with rage. “What have you got to say for yourself, boy?” he said. “I gave you a job, trusted you with the most valuable horses on the place and what have you done—nearly lost a prize colt for beginners.”

“That much is true.”

“And my daughter?” he demanded.

Brig thought of Cassidy and how he’d been unable to fight temptation and nearly taken her—how close he’d come to giving in to his lust and how much restraint it had taken to keep from making love to her over and over again. So she’d been a virgin—that hadn’t stopped him before. For the first time in his life he felt genuine remorse about his relationship with a woman.

“Have you been sleeping with Angie?” Rex’s voice was a cold, harsh whisper.

“No.” Brig stared him straight in the eye.

“Why should I believe you?”

“I guess you shouldn’t,” Brig answered, “but maybe you should have more faith in your daughter.”

“That’s not answering the question,” Derrick said, and his face was pale with hate. “I should rip your lyin’ tongue from behind your teeth, then slice off your nuts!”

“Enough!” Rex slammed his son up against the wall so hard a bucket that had been hung from a peg near the door clattered to the floor. “Clean up your language and go sleep it off,” Rex said, shoving Derrick toward the open door. “And you, Mac, leave us alone. This is personal.”

With a nod of his head, Mac walked out of the stable and Brig was left with the man who had hired him, the man who had been kind to his family when others in town would rather have looked the other way, the man who adored his daughters.

Fury dilated Rex’s eyes and his nostrils quivered. He pointed a thick finger at Brig’s chin and jabbed the air. “Don’t you ever,
ever
go near her again. Y’hear? I gave you this job because I thought you needed a break, because you’re good with the stock, but if you ever so much as lay a finger on Angie, I swear Derrick will be too late. I’ll cut off your balls myself.”

The air in the stables simmered, though night had just turned to day and the first rays of dawn were streaking through the open door, backlighting the most powerful man in the county, seeming to gild his white hair.

“Now, you’ve got work to do,” Rex pointed out. “I suggest you get on with it. But remember. I’ll be watching you. Even when your back is turned, and believe me, I’m not a man you want to cross.” Jaw clenched, he strode out of the stable, and Brig was left with a bad taste in his mouth. From this point forward, no matter what kind of trouble occurred on the ranch, he was sure to be blamed.

Cassidy couldn’t sleep. She thought of Brig and what he’d done to her; how he’d made her feel. The same exhilaration as riding Remmington flat-out, only different. She’d been as breathless as if she’d run for miles, her blood had seemed to spark as it had rushed through her veins and she’d tingled in the deepest parts of her.

She stood in front of the mirror naked, her body slim and athletic, her hips slender, her breasts small and high. Cocking her head, she eyed herself critically and wondered what he saw in her—a lanky tomboy without a feminine curve to her name. Her waist was small enough, she supposed, her abdomen flat, but still—if she shoved her hair into a baseball cap, wore men’s jeans and a big flannel shirt, no one would suspect that she was female.

But Brig hadn’t seemed to mind. Or had he? Was she just an easy substitute for Angie? Suddenly the image in the mirror seemed to mock her, and she felt foolish. She snatched up her clothes and tried not to think about the way her nipples puckered when she thought of Brig’s kisses or how, deep inside her, there was a new warm moisture.

“Cassidy?” Angie’s voice rang through the hall, and Cassidy dived into her underpants. She threw on a bra—what a joke—and slid into a faded pair of Wrangler jeans. “Hey, could you come here a minute?”

“Just a sec,” she called out as she shoved her arms through the sleeves of her favorite T-shirt and yanked it over her head.

“I need some help.”

“Great.”

“Oh, come on—”

On bare feet she hurried to Angie’s room, where her sister sat on the window ledge, hands outstretched, fingers separated by balls of cotton as a shiny shade of apricot polish dried on her nails.

She, too, was undressed, wearing only a lacy bra and bikini panties. Her skin was bronzed, her breasts nearly spilling out of the confines of silky red cups. Though her abdomen wasn’t as flat as her younger sister’s, she had the curves that made up for it.

“Good. I wouldn’t ask, Cassidy, but I’ve got to get going and—well, Felicity’s not here and your mother doesn’t like me enough to do my hair.”