Fortune (18 page)

F
or a long time after Chance left, Skye lay on the bed and gazed dry-eyed up at the ceiling, the things he had said to her running through her head, taunting her.

“I have no future. Not with a rock around my neck. Not when I'm trying to take care of a brat kid who isn't even my sister.”

Skye rolled onto her side and drew her knees to her chest, denying the ache, the hurt squeezing so tightly at her that she had to fight to breathe. Chance didn't want her around. He didn't like her; he never had. To him, she was a stupid, pesky little kid. He wished she would leave, then he could be rid of her without having to be the bad guy.

She swiped impatiently at the tears that trickled down her cheeks, angry at herself for being so dumb, angry at him for not wanting her. Angry at her mother for not loving her, for running away and leaving her behind.

A sob rose to her throat; she battled it back. Fine, she thought, sitting up, pressing her fists to her eyes. Chance didn't want her? He wanted a life? Fine. She wouldn't hang around being a pest any longer. She would go where she was wanted.

She jumped out of bed and began throwing her things into her duffel—her clothing and toiletries, her art supplies. She reached for the box of pastels Chance had given her for her birthday, hesitated, then snatched them up defiantly and tossed them into her art bag.

She would forget Chance McCord, the way she had forgotten her mother. She hated them both. She wished she had never even known them. Skye wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She was going to go live with Kevin and the others. That was if, after the way Chance had treated them, they still wanted her around. If they didn't, well, she would figure out what to do then.

She stomped to the door, stopping when she reached it and looking back at the empty trailer. She pictured Chance's face and smile; she remembered the way he had held her when her mother left, recalled the times he had coaxed laughter out of her, remembered how good he had been able to make her feel, just by caring.

Her eyes flooded with fresh tears, and Skye called herself a jerk. He didn't care about her; he never had. He had made that clear today. He had only done those sweet things, had only been kind to her because he felt he'd had to. He wasn't her friend; he didn't even like her.

She was through being a rock around his neck. She was out of here.

Skye flung open the door and darted outside.

And ran smack-dab into Kevin.

He caught her arms to steady her. “Whoa, babe. Where's the fire?”

She dropped her duffel and threw her arms around him. “Kevin! I'm so glad to see you.” She started to cry. “I hate my brother. He's such a jerk!”

“An asshole, you mean. A major, fucking asshole.”

“Is that why you're here?” She tipped her face up to his. “Because you were worried about me?”

“Sure, babe. That's why.” He smiled. “Never fear, Kev baby's here.”

“I'm sorry he was so mean to you,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I was afraid you wouldn't even talk to me after the way he acted.”

“It's no sweat. It's not your fault he's an asshole.” He grinned. “Got any brew in there?”

“I think so. Come on in.” They went in and Skye got him one of Chance's beers from the fridge, telling him about her and Chance's fight and about her decision to run away.

“He said I was just a rock around his neck,” she said, her voice thick. “He wants a life, he said.” She brought the heels of her hands to her eyes. “Like I don't? Why can't he see that?”

She looked over her shoulder at Kevin, but he wasn't looking at her—he was studying the room. She wondered if he had even heard her.

“Kevin?”

He met her eyes. “Go on, babe. I'm here.”

“So I decided to leave. I've got all my stuff in the duffel.” She clasped her hands together, struggling not to cry. “Can I stay with you and the others? Like you said before?”

“Sure.” He smiled. “You'll have to pull your own weight, though. Sometimes it's not easy. Sometimes you have to do things that you don't like. That's the cost of being on your own.”

“I don't care. I'll do anything to get away from Chance.” She swiped at her tears again. “Can we go now? I want to go.”

“What's the rush? Big, bad brother's not due home for a while, right?”

“No, but I—”

“Let's chill then.” Taking a swig of his beer, Kevin opened one of the kitchen cabinets, sifted through its contents, then went to another and did the same thing. Next he opened the drawer where they kept the silverware, then the storage space below the sink.

Skye frowned, watching him. She didn't like the way he was poking through her and Chance's place. It made her feel funny. She cleared her throat. “I have all my stuff, Kev. It's in my duffel.”

“So?” He took another swallow of the beer.

“So…” She stuffed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans, uncomfortable. “So everything else here belongs to Chance.”

He met her eyes. “I thought you were going to pull your weight?”

“I am. I just—”

“So do it. There might be something here we can use.”

“But…” Skye bit down on her lower lip. She had never seen Kevin act this way. He was usually sweet and attentive. He was usually so…understanding. So why didn't he see that she didn't like what he was doing? Why didn't he see how uncomfortable he was making her?

He began riffling through the fridge, then the freezer. She cleared her throat again. “I want to go, Kev.”

“Hey, now, what's this?” He pulled a roll of bills out of the coffee can they kept in the freezer. “Bingo, baby, we struck it rich.”

“Kevin, no!” Skye leaped forward, reaching for the roll. “That's the rent money. Chance needs that.”

Laughing, he jerked his arm back, keeping the money from her. “Oh, no you don't. We need it, too.”

Skye's heart began to thunder. She was mad at Chance; she hated him. But she didn't want to steal from him; it wasn't right, he needed that money to pay the rent. He had worked hard to earn it.

She shook her head. “Put the money back, Kevin. Chance needs it.”

“I thought you hated him.”

“I do, but—”

“No buts, babe. I told you, if you're going to be with me, sometimes you'll have to do things you don't like. Remember when I said that?”

She nodded, heart thundering. “I remember, I just…I just don't want to take Chance's money.”

“You know what?” Kevin swept his gaze over her, his expression contemptuous. “I don't think you have the guts to be on your own. I don't think you have what it takes.”

“I do! Really!” She held a hand out to him, pleading. “But if Chance doesn't have the rent, he'll get kicked out.”

“You think I give a shit?” Kevin pocketed the roll. “Come here and let Kev baby make everything okay.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not until you put the money back.”

He crossed to stand before her. “If you care that much about it, maybe I will.”

“Really?” She smiled, relieved. “You will?”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “If you're really, really nice to me.”

Her smile faded. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” He opened his arms. “Come here.”

She wanted to say no, but if she refused to kiss him, he wouldn't put the rent back. If she refused, he might not let her come live with him and the other kids. Mouth dry, heart pounding, Skye took a step toward him. He pulled her the rest of the way, closing his arms tightly around her. A moment later, his mouth descended onto hers, his open so wide she thought he was trying to swallow her.

Skye shuddered, but not with pleasure. She didn't like being in his arms. She didn't like his mouth on hers. It felt wrong, it tasted…sour. She kept thinking about the rent money, about how he didn't care that it belonged to Chance. She kept thinking about the things Chance had said to her, about her behavior, about the kind of people her friends were.

Skye's stomach rose to her throat. She longed to push Kevin away, to run. She tried to relax instead. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, wanting to feel the way she had the other times he'd kissed her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recapture those feelings, the rubbery light-headed feeling, the tingle at her pulse points, the flutter of heat between her legs; she reminded herself that she liked kissing him.

But she didn't like it. She felt sick. And trapped. She couldn't breathe. Curling her hands into fists, she whimpered.

He muttered something she couldn't make out and dropped his hands to her bottom, squeezing and kneading. He had never done that before, and it scared her. She squirmed, but instead of letting her go, he used his grip to draw her more tightly against him, smashing his pelvis against hers.

Then he stuck his tongue into her mouth.

Skye gagged and tried to pull away.

“Relax, babe,” he murmured against her mouth. “You're going to like this, I promise.” He thrust his tongue into her mouth again.

Skye wrenched her mouth free, feeling as if she might throw up. “Kevin…don't. I don't like that. Let me go.”

“Sorry, babe.” He wound his hand in her hair and jerked her head back. “But you have a lot to learn, and Kev here is going to teach you.”

He caught her again and dragged her against his chest. She fought him, kicking, trying to claw, to bite. Finally, hysterical, she wedged her arms between them and pushed free. When he made a grab for her, she slapped him as hard as she could.

His head jerked backward at the blow. He brought a hand to his cheek, his expression stunned, then furious. “Little bitch. Nobody hits me. Little cunt.”

She scrambled for the door. He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her backward. She cried out, lost her footing and fell. As she hit the floor, her head snapped back against the linoleum, and she saw stars.

He threw himself on top of her, pinning her beneath him. Catching her hands, he dragged her arms over her head, and began kissing her, his mouth making slobbery paths over her face and neck.

She couldn't breathe. She could hardly move. He rotated his pelvis against hers and she felt something hard poking at her, then realized in horror that it was his penis.

He was going to rape her.

No!
Skye began to struggle in earnest then, thrashing and kicking with her legs, twisting her body, begging him to stop. The more she struggled, the more aggressive he became. He ripped her shirt. His free hand went to one breast, then the other, squeezing and pinching, making grunting sounds as he did. Sobbing, writhing, she begged him to stop. Instead, he shoved his hand into her pants and plunged his fingers into her.

She screamed. Only no sound came.

The dark thing was upon her.

A darkness settled over her, a fear like no other she could remember. Yet, she did remember. It clutched at her, smothering her, stealing her ability to think, to fight. She had been touched like this before; she had struggled like this before.

Her head filled with the memory—though the memory had no face or shape. It was dark. And frightening. The thing, the one that held her wanted to hurt her. To punish her.

It hated her.

She screamed then, the sound ripping past her mouth, shattering the quiet of the trailer. The grip that held her eased, for only a moment, and Skye clawed and scratched and kicked out, her foot hitting soft flesh.

The thing bellowed with pain, cursed, and fell on her again, knocking the breath from her lungs.

“No means no, asshole!”

Suddenly, Skye could breathe. Suddenly, she was free. Sobbing, she scooted backward until she ran into the wall. The trailer door was open, sunshine spilled through, cutting across two figures. Chance, she realized. He had come to save her; he had dragged the thing off her.

Not a dark, shapeless evil, she saw. Kevin. Chance had dragged Kevin off of her.

As she watched, Chance's fist smashed into Kevin's face. Blood flew; the boy went sailing backward, crashing into the wall, hanging suspended for a moment like a rag doll on strings, then sliding down the wall into a heap.

A moment later Chance was by her side. “Skye, sweetheart, are you all right?” He touched her face and arms, moving his hands gently over her, his expression frantic. “When I came in and saw…him—”

He choked on the words, and Skye began to cry. She put her arms around him. “I was so sca—scared. He forced me…he said…if I wouldn't…then he—”

“It's all right, baby. It's all over.”

But it wasn't. Kevin was on his feet. He had a knife. Skye screamed Chance's name.