Tears of the Renegade (21 page)

Without giving herself time to reconsider, she locked the office and left the building. If she thought about it, she'd begin to worry, and she'd let the doubts change her mind. Her hands were trembling as she guided the Audi out of Biloxi. A distracted glance at the fuel gauge warned her to stop for gas, but even that small interruption in her progress was too much to tolerate. She thought she'd have enough gas to get home, and that was all she cared about at the moment. She'd worry about getting to work later.

The radio volume was low, but even the background noise was rasping on her nerves, and she snapped the radio off with a quick, irritable movement. It was so hot, and she felt so weak! A moment of dizziness alarmed her, and she turned the air-conditioning vents so the cold air was blowing right on her face. After a moment she felt better, and she urged the Audi to greater speeds.

The Blazer was parked under one of the giant oak trees that kept the fierce sun away from the front of the cabin, and the front door stood open. Susan guided the Audi to a hard stop in front of the porch, and as she opened the door to get out, Cord strolled lazily out of the cabin to lean against one of the posts that supported the porch roof. He had on boots, and jeans so old that one of the pockets was missing, and that was all. She looked up at him and her heart stopped for a moment. He'd begun to let his beard grow again, and the several days' growth of whiskers on his jaw made him look like an outlaw out of a Western. His hard, muscled torso was darkly tanned, his hair longer, and if anything, his pale eyes were even more compelling than she'd remembered. Her mouth went dry, and her legs wobbled as she went up the steps, clinging with all her strength to the rough railing.

She'd tried to imagine what his first words would be, and her imagination had supplied any number of brutal things
that would wound her. She braced herself for them as his narrowed gaze went over her from head to foot.

“Come on in and have a glass of iced tea,” he invited, his rough, callused hand closing on her elbow and urging her inside the cabin. “You look like you're about to melt.”

Was that it?
She had to swallow an almost hysterical giggle. After all her panic, he calmly invited her in for iced tea!

Somehow she found herself sitting at his table while he moved around the kitchen. “I was just about to eat,” he said easily. “Nothing hot in this weather, just a ham sandwich and a tossed salad, but there's plenty for two.”

She started. He wanted her to eat? “Oh, no, thank you—”

He interrupted her refusal by sliding a plate in front of her. She stared down at the ham sandwich, wondering if she could possibly swallow a bite of it, and his hand entered her field of vision again, this time placing a chilled bowl of salad beside the plate. A napkin and cutlery were placed by her hand, and a big glass of beautiful, amber tea over ice finished her instant meal. When she lifted her stunned gaze, she saw that he'd set the same for himself, and he draped his tall frame into the chair across from her.

“Eat,” he said gently. “You'll feel better after you do.”

When had she last had a meal, a real meal? The days had merged into one long, steamy nightmare, and she couldn't recall her last meal. Half-eaten sandwiches, coffee, and an occasional candy bar had constituted her diet since Preston had left. She began to eat slowly, and the crisp, fresh flavor of the salad, only lightly coated with tart dressing, was suddenly the best thing she could imagine eating. She savored every bite of it, and the cold tea seemed to cool her from the inside out. Because she'd been eating so little she was unable to eat all of the sandwich, but Cord made no comment on the half left on her plate. Instead he swiftly cleared the table, placing the
dishes in the sink before coming back to the table and refilling her glass with tea.

“Now,” he said, dropping into his chair again, “you don't look like you're going to pass out at my feet, so I'll listen to whatever you came to say.”

Susan held the frosty glass between both hands, feeling the refreshing chill on her hot palms. “I want to talk to you about the ridges,” she said, but her mind wasn't on her words. She was staring at him, her eyes tracing the lines of his features as if etching them permanently on her memory.

“So talk. What about them?” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back, bringing his booted feet up and propping them on the chair beside him.

“Do you still want to lease them?”

His lids dropped down to hood his eyes. “Get to the point, Susan.”

Nervously, she took a sip of tea, then fidgeted for a moment with the glass, returning it to precisely the same spot where it had been before, making certain that it matched the ring of water that marked its position. “If you want them, then lease them now. I've decided not to wait for the report from the survey. If you don't want the lease any longer, I'm going to lease them to some other company.”

“Oh, I still want them,” he said softly, “but I'm not going to give you any money on them right now. You'd run all the way to Biloxi to give the money to Preston, and I'll be damned if I'll give you a penny until this is all over. The money from the ridges is for you, to keep you in your accustomed style after Preston doesn't have a penny left.” He gave her a cynical grin, one full of wry amusement at himself. “I'll keep you in silk underwear, honey.”

Susan choked and jumped to her feet, her cheeks scarlet. “Then I'll lease them to someone else!”

“I don't think so,” he drawled, swinging his long legs to the floor and getting to his feet, moving gracefully to put himself between her and the door. “If you think I've used every club I have against Preston already, then you're mistaken. If you lease that land to anyone else, I'll crush him, and you can bet your sweet little life on that.”

Susan drew back from him, stumbling a little as she tried to circle the table without turning her back on him. She was slowed by her exhaustion, and totally unable to react when he moved suddenly, cutting her off. His hands closed on her fragile waist, and he felt the slenderness of her under his fingers. His black brows snapped together in a forbidding frown. “How much weight have you lost?” he demanded curtly, glaring down at her.

Despite the tremors that quaked through her insides, Susan held herself stiffly. “That's none of your business.” Her fingers dug into his biceps as she tried to push him away, but he was as immovable as a boulder.

He held her with one arm and swept his other hand over her body, exploring her newly frail contours. He slid his hand over her hips and buttocks, her slender thighs, then up to rub gently over her breasts, making her cry out and writhe in a desperate attempt to escape him. He held her easily, his eyes blue with fury. “What in the hell has he done to you?”

Shards of pain pierced her, and she twisted suddenly, a gasping cry breaking from her lips. She managed to break his grip, and she shoved herself away from him, her face pale, her hair straggling out of its once-tidy knot. She hurt so much, and she was so desperate, that she screamed at him, “He hasn't done anything to me! You've done it; you've done it all! You're not crushing him, you're crushing
me!
He left—” Horrified at what she was saying, she stuffed her hand into her mouth to stop the mad tumble of words, her eyes huge and so dark they were almost black as she stared at him.

If he had been angry before, he exploded now. Hammering his fist on the table with a force that upset her glass of tea, he roared, “What do you mean, ‘He
left?
' That damned weasel!”

“He's not a weasel!” She'd been pushed too far to be wary of his temper, to even consider the questionable wisdom of defending Preston to Cord. “He left because he hoped you'd stop when you saw that you weren't hurting him any longer! He's trying to save the corporation, save thousands of jobs—”

“You mean he thought you'd come running to me with the information that you were trying to do it all on your own, and I'd back off. Damn you, Susan, why didn't you do just that? Why have you driven yourself into the ground like this?”

“Because I think you're wrong! Preston isn't using me as a sacrificial lamb; if you'd stop hating him long enough, you might see that he's not the same person he was years ago. You can try to ease your own guilt by making him pay, but you're wrong to do it!”

“Is that why you've run yourself half to death, to show me how wrong I am?”

He was never going to listen to reason. The realization slapped her in the face, and she reeled from the force of it. “No,” she whispered. “I've run myself half to death trying to keep a corporation alive. I don't sleep because I lie awake trying to think of a way to raise money, and I don't eat because I don't have the time to spare.” She'd gone completely white now, her eyes blazing at him. “I've sold everything I own, except my house and the ridges, trying to stay afloat. Do you want them, too? Or maybe the keys to my car? Or how about my record collection? I've got some real golden oldies—”

“Shut up!” he thundered, reaching out a hand to catch her.

She twisted away, unable to bear his touch. “Leave me alone,” she said rawly, then almost ran out of the cabin and tumbled into the Audi. Slamming the door, she savagely
turned the key in the ignition and the engine caught immediately, but when she put the car in gear it gave a shuddering jerk and died. “Don't do this to me,” she said through gritted teeth, turning the key again. The motor turned over but didn't catch, and in horror her eyes flew to the fuel gauge, where the needle bumped against the E. “Damn you!” she shrieked at the car. “Don't do this to me!” She began to pound on the steering wheel with both fists, screaming, “Damn! Damn! Damn!” with every impact, and tears burst from her eyes.

“Susan!” The door was wrenched open, and Cord caught her wrists, hauling her out of the car. “Susan, stop it! Settle down, honey, just settle down. Don't fly apart like this. Let me see if I can get the car started.”

“You can't,” she blurted, pulling her hands free to bury her face in them and weep uncontrollably. It was just too much. She, who always controlled her tears no matter how much she hurt, had dissolved into sobs because she had run out of gas. “The gas tank is empty.”

He slid into the driver's seat, keeping one long leg on the outside of the car, as he turned on the ignition and checked it for himself. Sighing, he got out of the car and closed the door. “I'll drive you home.”

“I don't want you to drive me home!” She turned to walk down the slope and he made a grab for her, hauling her back just as an enormous clap of thunder shook the earth. She jumped, startled, looking up at the horrendous black cloud that had suddenly taken over the sky. A brisk wind had begun blowing, but she hadn't noticed it until then. As they both looked up, the first enormous raindrops splattered them in the face with stinging force, and Cord put his arm around her, hustling her up on the porch just before the heavens split open and dropped a deluge so thunderous that they had to shout to make themselves heard.

“You can't walk home in this,” he yelled, bending down to put his mouth close to her ear. “We'll wait until it lets up; then I'll take you home.”

Despairingly, Susan looked at the gray curtain of rain. Already it had turned the area around the cabin into a shallow river as the water ran down the slope, rushing downward to the creek. She knew that it would splash up to her ankles, and gave in to his opinion that she couldn't walk home. But neither could she stay here, so close to him, in the cabin where they'd made love the first time. Her nerves were at the breaking point. “I want to go home!” she half screamed at him. “I'm not going to stay here! I simply won't!”

A look of savage impatience twisted his face; then he brought himself under control by sheer effort of will. He caught her arm and dragged her into the cabin, slamming the door shut in an effort to close out the roar of the rain.

“All right, all right!” he snapped. “We're going to get soaked just getting into the Blazer, you know.”

“I don't care.” Obdurately she stared at him, and he stared back at her in frustrated fury, but evidently he saw something in her face that made him hesitate. She had no idea how frail she looked, or how deeply the shadows of exhaustion lay under her eyes. He shoved his hand through his too-long hair, making the silky strands tumble down over his forehead.

“I'll pull the Blazer up as close to the porch as I can,” he muttered. “There's a newspaper on the table in front of the fireplace; put it over your head and make a run for it. But I warn you, it's not going to do much good against this downpour.” He stalked to the cabinet and pulled out a plastic trash bag, then disappeared into the bedroom. Susan remained where she stood, feeling icy chills race over her body, too dispirited to wonder what he was doing. He came out a moment later wearing one of those disreputable T-shirts that hugged
his magnificent body so faithfully. He had the trash bag folded and tucked under his arm, and a battered khaki-colored baseball-style cap was jammed on his head. He looked as stormy and furious as the cloud outside.

Without speaking to her, he went out on the porch, and she followed him. He didn't bother with the steps; he walked to the end of the porch nearest to the Blazer and paused a moment to stare in disgust at the pounding rain. Then he leaped off the end of the porch, and was in a dead run by the time his feet hit the ground. As depressed as she was, Susan watched him in admiration, admiring the speed and grace of his powerful strides. He looked like a linebacker closing in on a pass receiver, every movement purposeful and deadly.

A bolt of lightning, blindingly white, snapped to the ground close to the creek, and the ear-splitting crack made Susan shriek and jump back as the entire earth shook. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck lifted at the electricity that hummed through the air, and suddenly she realized how powerful this storm was, how dangerous it was to be out in it. The limbs of the giant oaks were waving back and forth as the trees bent before the onslaught. She wanted to call Cord back, but he was already in the Blazer; she heard the engine roar into life, and the headlights came on. She stumbled back into the cabin to get the newspaper he'd indicated, only to find that the storm had blotted out the lingering twilight and it was so dark inside the cabin that she had to switch on a lamp to find the newspaper.