Revenge (44 page)

“I'll call,” he said, reaching into another drawer for a cellular phone and batteries.

“Don't bother.”

Jenner grabbed his crutches, hitched his way to the door and shouldered it open. Hearing thunder rumble across the hills, he hiked the collar of his jacket up around his neck and considered his next move.

Beth wouldn't like it, but that was just too bad. If, as she so adamantly insisted, he was the father of her kid, then he owed that boy a decent, safe life and he was going to start giving it to him right now.

For the first time in his life, he was worrying about someone other than himself. His own hide was pretty much useless, but Beth and the boy, they were important.

He drove with a purpose, pushing the speed limit, forgetting that some of his leg movements were limited, and being damned if anyone was going to hurt Beth or Cody. The town of Rimrock hadn't changed in the past few hours; it was the same little town Jenner had lived in most of his life. But now he was looking over his shoulder for a sinister presence, jumping at shadows, afraid that some criminal might be planning to do bodily harm to a woman and child he'd met recently but who had already woven themselves so deeply into his heart that he couldn't imagine them ever leaving.

That thought jolted him and he nearly swerved into the oncoming lane. A horn blasted loudly from a station wagon traveling in the opposite direction, but Jenner hardly noticed. He'd spent his life cultivating the art of being a loner, making sure that he put down only the shallowest of roots, and here he was, thinking in terms of the future with a woman he didn't even trust and a boy who might or might not be his.

He turned off the main road and stopped at an all-night market for a few essentials, then drove straight to Beth's mother's house. A soft light shone through the front window and Jenner cut the engine. It seemed he was forever chasing this woman, insisting she be a part of his life, then pushing her away.

Telling himself he was the worst kind of fool, he hitched himself up the steps and knocked softly on the door. She answered quickly, as if she'd been expecting him.

“What are you doing here?” she said. “Everyone's asleep.”

“Good.” He reached for her arm, pulled her onto the porch and kissed her as long and as hard as he wanted. Her lips were soft and yielding against his, her body as hungry and anxious as his own. Fire swept through his blood. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“I'd rather not say.”

Her smile was tentative. “What is this—twenty questions?”

“Please.”

She stopped short and he realized he'd never used that word with her before. “Look, Jenner, I just can't leave Cody here—”

“Tonight, Beth. Now. It's important. Bring Cody with you.”

“You want him, too?” she asked.

He hesitated for just a heartbeat. “Yeah,” he admitted, surprised at his own emotions. “I want him.”

Blinking hard against a sudden rush of tears, she swallowed. “Let me just tell Mom that we're leaving.”

“And won't be back for a while.”

“Wait a minute.”

“A few days.”

“I don't know—”

He grabbed her arm more tightly. “Pack a bag, Beth. Now!”

“But why—”

“Just do it,” he said, and the tenor of his voice must have convinced her.

“I don't usually let bullheaded cowboys push me around,” she grumbled as she pulled away from him. “You have some explaining to do.”

“I will. Later,” he promised, jangling his keys nervously.

She ducked back into the house. Through the open door, he heard conversation as Beth explained the situation to her mother. Harriet's words were muffled through her bedroom door, but their import was perfectly clear. She wasn't happy that her daughter was taking her grandson and leaving in the middle of the night with the no-good McKee rebel who had knocked her up and left her without a backward glance three years ago. Jenner didn't have to hear the words to get the gist of the conversation.

Within minutes, Beth was back on the porch, carrying Cody and a huge bag. She handed him the sleeping baby and Jenner smelled the soap, baby powder and shampoo that he remembered from his niece, Hillary a few years back. Except this was his son. Well, maybe.

Cody was a dead weight, barely moving as Jenner held him and Beth hurried to the truck to stow the bag in the back.

Jenner couldn't move. He didn't dare try to negotiate the steps with his crutches and carry the boy, so he had to wait until Beth, breathless, returned and retrieved her son, blanket and all. Some bodyguard he'd be, trapped on crutches, unable to carry the boy and run if need be, unable to protect them. He cursed under his breath.

Pathetic, that's what he was. But not much longer. He wouldn't just accept the fact that he couldn't take care of people who might rely on him. If he had to go back to the damned doctor, so be it. If he was forced to spend hours in physical therapy, he'd give it a shot. But he wasn't going to be useless any longer.

Damn it, Mavis had been right. This woman and his kid seemed to be all the motivation he needed to try again. And if he failed? If his leg refused to mend? If, after surgery and therapy and acupuncture and voodoo and whatever else it took, he still couldn't walk, then he'd accept the damned wheelchair and make the best of a bad situation. Somehow.

He didn't really have much choice.

 

Beth told herself she was nuts—certifiably crazy. What was she thinking, taking off in the middle of the night with Jenner McKee? Her mother's protests echoed in her ears.

“You're making a big mistake, Beth. Think about it.

“It's not that I don't like him, but he's got a reputation! The family's got a reputation! They're users, every last one of them. If you aren't thinking about yourself, consider Cody. He's just a baby.

“I hate to say it, Beth, but Jenner could be using you again. He'll break your heart and never look back. Just like before!”

Those final words kept reverberating in her heart, and she silently vowed that it wouldn't happen, that it couldn't; she mustn't lose her heart again.

Jenner didn't say much and the radio played a steady stream of country music, songs of broken hearts, missed opportunities and regrets, but Beth refused to think of them in terms of her relationship with Jenner. She was content to stare out the window at the night-darkened countryside while Cody slept soundly in the seat between them—his father and mother.

“You haven't said where we're going.”

“Does it matter?” His voice was a rough whisper.

“I suppose not.”

“Didn't think so.” They drove through Dawson City and further east until eventually they turned off the main road and wound upward through the mountains, past stands of timber and along steep cliffs.

Though she had no idea where they were, Jenner drove as if he knew where he was going, turning easily at each fork in the road as if by instinct. Finally a gap appeared in the trees and he parked near a three-story lodge that had seen better days, a huge summer home from the looks of it. It was built on the shores of a placid lake, which seemed to shimmer under the stars.

“What is this place?”

“A retreat, I guess. Dad ended up with it in one of his business deals. I think it belonged to some civic group for a while, but it was originally built as a hunting lodge. We used to come up here as kids, whenever Mom couldn't stand another minute of the old man's B.S. Here...use this.” He reached across her, the back of his arm brushing her breasts as he opened the glove compartment and extracted a flashlight.

Beth carried Cody inside and Jenner grabbed a couple of sacks from the back of the truck, which he managed to balance while using his crutches.

The steps were covered with dirt and leaves, and rodents had gnawed through some of the boards, but Beth closed her eyes to the state of disrepair and waited while Jenner fitted an old key into the lock. The door creaked open.

The interior smelled musty and dry, as if no one had stepped over the threshold in years. A haunted house, like something out of a horror movie, she thought. The flashlight's beam seemed small against the dark hallways and shadowed corners. A wide staircase with hand-carved railing and posts curved upward, but Jenner walked straight ahead, through a wide arch into a room as large as a ballroom in a Portland hotel.

“Over there,” he said, pointing across the room to a huge rock fireplace. She shone the beam on a massive mantel where hurricane lanterns stood under a cloak of dust. “That's it. Hold it right there.” He crossed the room, struck a match against the hearth, and lit each of the three lanterns. The room began to come alive as the lantern light was reflected in the mullioned windows and made shadows play upon the old plank floor. Jenner stripped sheets off a couple of pieces of furniture and found bedding smelling of cedar in a back closet. “We'll put him here,” he directed as he opened up a sofa bed in the corner, covered it with blankets and waited as Beth laid Cody gently on an old hand-pieced quilt. The little boy snuggled deep in the bedding, sighed and didn't even open his eyes.

“Why did you bring us here?” she asked.

“A couple of reasons. I'll explain it all later. First I want to see if I can turn on the water and build a fire.” He snagged a lantern from the mantel. “Wait here.”

“I'm tired of waiting,” she said as he hitched himself out of the room, but there wasn't much else she could do because she didn't want Cody to wake up frightened in the unfamiliar surroundings. She shone the beam of the flashlight to the ceiling, three stories above the main floor. Two sets of balconies, one above the other, skirted the huge room on three sides while windows filled the fourth wall. Through the dusty glass, the lake was visible, a breeze raising ripples to gleam in the soft light of the stars and a crescent moon.

She pulled off several more sheets and discovered Victorian furniture, antiques, she supposed, that included gateleg tables, brass lamps, club chairs and sofas, even an old player piano. The walls were decorated with heads of animals—bison, deer, antelope, elk, a mountain lion and even a moose. Rifles, spears, snowshoes and a variety of bows and arrows were interspersed between the furry faces with glass eyes that stared down at her.

What kind of man owned a hunting lodge?

The same kind who owned a ranch, a real estate company, racehorse and a copper mine. A man who had thought that the more he owned, the more important he was. A man who ended up getting himself killed.

Goose bumps rose on her arms and she shivered as she thought of Jonah and wondered who could have hated him enough to force his Jeep off the road. She glanced at Cody anxiously, but her baby was sleeping undisturbed, as if everything was right with the world. He didn't understand about his relationship to Jenner, had never even asked why he didn't have a father, and certainly had no clue that his ruthless grandfather had been killed.

Jenner's uneven gait announced his return. He was dragging pieces of firewood stacked on a sheet.

“Oh, for heaven's sake, I would have gotten that,” she said, crossing the room quickly.

“I didn't want your help.” He was sweating profusely, though it was cold up here in the mountains. “I didn't need it, did I?”

“It would have been simpler if—”

“Would it have?” he said, his voice rising. “Not for me. I'm not going to ask for help for every little thing.”

“This wasn't a little thing.”

“It's done, all right?” He made his way to the fireplace, opened the flue, laid down kindling, then stacked chunks of oak and fir over handmade andirons shaped to look like wolves baring their teeth. He struck a match and touched it several times to the tinder-dry wood. “That's better,” he said, dusting off his hands.

And it was. Flames began to lick at the logs, casting the room in shadows of gold and causing the sweat sheening his forehead to glow. The cavernous room seemed suddenly cozy and warm. Aside from the quiet hiss of the fire and Cody's soft breathing, the lodge was hushed, and she was suddenly aware of being alone—really alone—with Jenner and his son.

Beth warmed her hands by the fire. “So now you're going to tell me why you brought me here, right?”

His smile was wicked. “I'll give you one reason.”

“Just one?” She couldn't help the teasing lilt of her voice.

“The most important,” he said slowly as he walked closer to her and ran a long finger down the side of her jaw. “I wanted to be alone with you.”

Her heart pumped wildly as his finger slid lower to the pulse point at the base of her throat. It lingered there, drawing lazy, sensual circles.

“We—we didn't have to come this far.”

“I didn't want to be interrupted.” He let his finger catch on the neckline of her sweater and she hardly dared breathe. He pulled gently, the knitted fabric stretching before she moved her head. He kissed her softly, his lips brushing hers in a chaste, yet sensual movement. “Come on,” he whispered. “I'd carry you, but considering the circumstances, I guess you'll have to make it on your own. Bring a lantern.” Cocking his head toward a short hallway, he grabbed the flashlight and hobbled ahead, following the uneven beam.

Beth knew that Cody was fast asleep and wouldn't awaken, so she grabbed the light and followed Jenner. Her heart was racing as he led her into a room as large as her apartment. A canopied bed stood on a dais, though the bedding had long since been stripped from it. Another fireplace rose to the beamed ceiling and Jenner drew the curtains to show off a view of the lake.