Passion's Wicked Torment

by Melissa Hepburne

  Brady felt called upon to defend his lady’s honor. Summoning all his courage, he swung at Hunter, hitting him in the jaw. Hunter looked at him, but instead of being angry, he was merely irritated by his presence. He went to the door and opened it. He then jerked his head toward the exit, commanding Brady to leave.

  “Oh, Dallas, what a party pooper you are!” laughed Kristin in a strangely wild, manic voice. “You’re no fun at all.” She glanced at Brady and sighed. “You’d better go, Craig. I’m afraid he’ll throw you out the window if you don’t.”

  That was enough for the writer. “Well, if you’re sure you’ll be all right,” he said quickly, hurrying to the open door. “So long as you insist.” Once through the door, he turned to face Kristin. But just as he started to say something further that might help redeem him, Hunter slammed the door in his face. It was just as well; footsteps had been hurrying up the stairs. Hunter bolted the door and turned back to Kristin.

  “Party pooper,” she said again. She laughed at him. Then she went up to him and ran her finger teasingly along the line of his square jaw. “Want to make love to me, Mr. Party Pooper? Is that why you came? Well, if you say pretty please—”

  He slapped her stingingly, making her head snap to the side. She did not immediately turn it back to him. She shut her eyes. Then she opened them, though, and looked at him again. She was smiling that wild, frantic, partly drunk smile, laughing at him, making fun of his serious expression. “Aw, poor Dallas Hunter had his feelings hurt. Maybe I’ll go find me some new man who’s more fun. A whole bunch of them! I’ll just—”

  He slapped her again.

  “What are you doing?!” she cried out, holding her hand to her cheek. She tried to back away from him, but he grasped her arm and held her.

  He stared at her, saying nothing. He had not said a single word to Kristin, but his feelings were clear. His eyes asked, Are you finished playing games now, or shall we continue?

  She refused to be cowed by him. She refused to stop behaving the way she had behaved ever since Chad had died. She made herself smile tauntingly at him again, and then she began to speak. But he did not even let her get a word out. He slapped her once more.

  This time tears sprang to her eyes, and she was forced to cry out, “Stop it!” And then suddenly, all the manic laughter and wild teasing were gone from her.

  “Come to your senses,” Hunter said finally. “Enough is enough.”

  “I ... I don’t know what you mean!” Kristin challenged.

  He glared at her, assessing her. Then he plunged ahead. “Your brother is dead. Face it.” She tried to turn her head away, but he clutched her chin and made her look at him. “Face it! You’ve been trying to hide from it for months, trying to kill yourself to get away from having to face it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she protested desperately. “I have faced it! I have accepted it!”

  “You’ve done nothing but run from it ever since it happened. You’re a coward, Kristin. And you’re ruining your life for nothing. It won’t bring him back. Killing yourself won’t help Chad.”

  “Stop it!” she screamed. “Don’t talk about him!” “Chad! Chad Fleming, your brother! He’s dead! And your killing yourself this way isn’t going to bring him back!”

  “I’ll kill you, damn you. I’ll kill you!” She started scratching wildly at him, but he held her wrists. His face was granite, his eyes flaring.

  “Show a little courage,” he said, his voice contemptuous. It was the contempt that made her listen, that made her really listen, not just pretend to hear what he said. If he had been soft and sympathetic and oozing love and concern for her, as McShane had done, she would not have listened. She would have dismissed him as scornfully as she had dismissed McShane, who had not known what she truly wanted, what she truly needed. But Hunter was not gentle or full of sympathy as he glared at her now. He was rough and commanding. He knew exactly what she needed.

  “You little coward. It’s about time you realized that the world isn’t your personal servant, ready to let you have your way, no matter whät you want. It’s time you stopped wallowing in self-pity. As if you’re the first girl who ever lost someone she loved. It’s happened before. It’ll happen again.”

  “Not to me! It’s never happened to me! Not like this! You killed him. You murdered my brother!” She screamed this at him, almost spitting in his face, venting her rage over it for the first time.

  He was not angered by her accusation. “That’s right. I killed him. To save you. But if I’d known he was giving up his life to save a cowardly little wisp of a weakling, I might not have done it.”

  The way he spat out these words struck a chord in Kristin, bringing her up short for a moment. And despite herself, she protested, “I’m not a cowardly little wisp of anything.”

  “You didn’t used to be. But look at yourself now. Weak. Scared. You’re a disgrace. Running from life . . . running from your own shadow. Afraid to face reality because it’s painful. Who said it wasn’t painful! You’re a weak, sniveling—”

  “I’m not!”

  “What’s the matter, babe? Can’t you take it?” He was taunting her.

  “I can take anything you can dish out, mister!”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah!”

  “You think so, coward?”

  “Listen, you bastard! You son of a bitch!” Kristin was screaming at him now. Hunter released her wrists and let her slap him hard. Fire was in her eyes for the first time in two months. “You take that!” she screamed.

  He grasped her and bent her backward over his arm, clutching her to him. “And you take this.” He kissed her searingly on the mouth. She felt herself responding. Her whole body responded. It was the first swooning sting of real pleasure she had had in two months, and it startled her. She forgot what it was like to have something that could give her pleasure. She had forgotten that there was anything in the world worth having—and that she was worthy of having it.

  She became languid in Hunter’s arms, and the fog of anger and self-hatred that had shrouded her mind, making it impossible for her to think or feel, seemed to lift.

  Hunter sensed the change. His lips and his arms were like antennas receiving a psychic message. He raised his head and looked at her. His eyes had a gentleness now.

  The hardness and disdain were gone; they had served their purpose.

  When Kristin spoke, there was a genuineness that had been lacking for months in her voice. The biting, cynical, self-hating edge seemed to have vanished. “Dallas,” she said softly, almost choking on the words, “he was my brother.”

  Now, for the first time, Hunter let the sympathy and understanding he felt show through. “I know, babe. But your period of grieving is over. It’s time to rejoin the living. Don’t you think Chad would have wanted it that way?”

  She was on the verge of tears. She tried to hold them back.

  “He wouldn’t have wanted you to ruin your life like this over his death. You know that.”

  “No,” she said in a high, shaky voice. She shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t.” And then suddenly, the tears burst from her in a torrent, streaming hotly down her cheeks. “Oh, Dallas!”

  He held her tightly. “I know, babe. I know.” His words were tender. He held her slender body as she shuddered and quaked, pouring out her tears, her head against his shoulder. He stroked her hair. This was the first time since Chad’s death that she had cried. It was the first time that she had let out the torment and agony she had kept locked deep inside, which had turned to poison within her. McShane had not been able to reach her, to help her. No one else had either, until now.

  Hunter said to her as she continued crying against his shoulder, “It’ll be all right now, babe. You’ll be all right.”

  There was a banging on the door, but they both ignored it. Kristin could not stop crying. It felt so good to be in his arms again, so warm and comforting. She needed to have him hold her tightly and
stroke her hair. That had always been a special thing between them, the way he stroked her hair. Kristin knew that he had just saved her life. He was right. She had been slowly, deliberately killing herself, because she had been unable to face Chad’s death.

  She had become the kind of woman she detested, unproductive, out only for a wild time. Anything for a laugh or an escape from reality. There was no telling what would have happened if things continued on that way. But Hunter had saved her, and now, looking up at his strong, caring face, she felt a wave of profound emotion well up in her. “I never stopped loving you,” she said softly. “You know that?”

  He nodded. She kissed him on the lips, a soft kiss full of affection and love. She said, “I love you, Dallas. I love you with all my heart.”

  And it hurt her when he did not reply. He held her gaze, and there was sadness in his eyes. He was courageous enough to hold her gaze, to not turn away despite the pain it caused him to let her see the truth. He was honest enough not to lie to her. But still, his courage or honesty did not make this pointed omission any less painful to Kristin ... his failure to say the magic words back to her.

  She lowered her eyes, keeping her head snuggled against his chest. She understood. The woman she had become had turned him off completely. What were the words he had used? “Cowardly wisp of a weakling”? She was different now. He had brought her back to her senses, made her see the light. But still, in his eyes she had evidently crossed a bridge from which she might not be able to return.

  What injustice! she thought. To realize how much she loved him, to be brought back to the point where she could finally accept his love . . . only to find that his love was no longer there.

  He hugged her tightly to show that there was still deep affection. And the fact that he had come all this way to save her from her fate, that too showed that he still cared. But affection and caring were not what she wanted. All her life Kristin had dreamed of a man she could love, who would love her deeply in return. Dallas was the man she wanted, she knew that now. She had secretly known it all along. Even her recent life style had been a misguided attempt to wipe him from her heart and mind. But now she was aware of the depth of her love, and it was . . . all for nothing? He did not love her in return.

  She pushed herself away from him and dried her eyes on her sleeve.

  “I’ll take you back, babe.” Hunter’s voice was gentle.

  “There’s nothing for me back there.”

  “What about your Mountie friend?”

  “He’s not . . . who I want.”

  Hunter seemed on the verge of saying something, and she raised her eyes to look at him, anticipating what he was about to say. She thought he was going to suggest that she stay with McShane anyway, in a he’s better than nothing tone of voice. “I don’t accept consolation prizes,” Kristin said sharply.

  She was surprised at the smile that came to his lips. Then she understood. This was the first sign she had given that she was really back to normal, that she was her old self again. And suddenly she felt that she was her old self again. She was as strong-willed and bullheaded and independent as ever. And there was no reason in the world that she couldn’t go after what she wanted and get it.

  This realization made her surge with sudden confidence. She looked at Hunter and smiled. The smile was so confident, it made Hunter narrow an eye in curiosity, wondering what she was thinking.

  There was still loud banging on the door. Hunter opened it. André and Brady were there facing him, as was Heinrich, who was looking very angry. In front of the count stood Krakow holding a shotgun leveled at Hunter’s waist, his face twitching with malice in his eagerness to use it.

  “It’s all right,” said Kristin, standing next to Hunter. She put her hand around his waist in a protective gesture to show the four onlookers where her allegiance lay.

  Krakow still looked eager to use the shotgun. Hunter pulled his slim leather case from his wallet, opened it and held it out to Heinrich. The badge and a card were within, identifying him as an agent of the American government. Politically, Belgium was staunchly allied with America, a nation viewed as a giant, wealthy postwar protector. Heinrich did not dare risk imperiling his alreadyshaky position with his own government just to have the satisfaction of killing Hunter. He put his hand on the barrel of Krakow’s shotgun, forcing him to lower it.

  Hunter led Kristin past the four men, and they left. Kristin glanced over her shoulder at Brady and André, who looked saddened to see her go. She tried to smile at them, but no smile came to her lips. The worst was not yet over, she knew. She wanted Dallas Hunter back. But that did not mean she would succeed in getting what she wanted.

  She looked at Hunter’s stern face as he climbed into his roadster beside her. Was it possible, she wondered, that she had irreversibly alienated herself from him? That there was simply no possible way to win back his love? The thought made her heart sink with despair.

  CHAPTER 29

  It was the most exhilarating, uplifting, wildly exuberant feeling! They were flying 12,000 feet above the ground in Hunter’s JN-4D biplane. Kristin had never been in an airplane before, and had never expected to be in one. Hunter, though, was a man of fast action, and he had balked at the idea of taking a liner back to the States. By flying, he could make the trip in two days.

  They were high above France now, on their way to a refueling base in the Azores. From there they would continue on to New York. It was not yet possible to make the trip nonstop, though Hunter had assured her that before the decade was over, it would be—for any aviator who was foolhardy and brave enough.

  The wind whipped her hair wildly about and made her nose and ears chilled. She had refused the leather helmet Hunter had offered, though she had accepted the fleecelined, woolly collared leather jacket and the goggles. She knew she should feel a bit depressed. She’d been counting on the time they would have had together during the ocean liner voyage, planning to use it as a chance to get closer to Hunter. She had been cheated of that opportunity. She could not feel depressed though, for flying through the air like this was such an exhilarating experience. She would not have missed it for the world.

  Below, the fields of France were divided into geographic squares, where the land was cultivated for various agricultural plantings. When they passed over the winegrowing regions, the fields became less square and more colored with purples and greens. Winegrowing was an art, the French declared, and the crazy patchwork of their vineyards’ crooked lines was a point of pride to them.

  The edge of the Continent appeared below them, the beaches outlined in white where the waves broke upon the shores. Then they were over the brilliant blue sea, leaving the brown and greenland far behind them.

  All the while that she was watching the view, Kristin was engaged in a heated debate with Dallas Hunter. She was not answering him with anger. She was not angry at all. But she also was not submitting blandly to his will.

  “I refuse!” she declared over the two-way intercom, which was a recent innovation in twin seater aircraft. “If you think I’m going back to teaching classes at Abraham Lincoln grade school, or any other school, you’ve got another thing coming! Nothing could make me go back to that after what I’ve experienced.”

  Hunter shouted into his helmet microphone, above the roar of the engine, “What else is there for you to do? You’re a trained schoolteacher!”

  “Yes, and I’m a trained saloon hostess too, and casino operator. And a very good one! Trained by experience, which is certainly the best teacher.”

  “There’s no reason for you to keep up that kind of crazy life. Your undercover, hard-boiled lady days are over.” He turned in his pilot’s seat to look over his shoulder at her. The roar of the engine was very loud, and he had to shout into his mike to be heard, even though he was looking right at her. “Besides, I’m not saying you should go back to teaching at your old school. I’m telling you to go to California, to stay with those relatives you mentioned to me. Live with them awh
ile. Take a teaching job out there.”

  “Why are you so anxious to get rid of me?” She had to yell into her mike to be heard.

  “I’m not!”

  “What happened to Ironman?” she yelled suddenly, without prologue.

  Hunter raised his goggles up to his forehead and stared at her grimly, letting her see the forcefulness in his eyes. “Forget about Ironman. Forget about the whole damn thing.”

  “I want to know, Dallas! What happened to him?” “Nothing happened to him. We can’t prove he was the one who abducted Chad. Ladislas Terry is dead. And Ironman’s skiff operator swore that Chad came aboard Ironman’s ship of his own free will and was Ironman’s honored guest. Ironman swore that Chad asked him to take him in after he escaped from the men who abducted him.”

  “But that’s . . . that’s ridiculous! Surely everyone knows the truth.”

  Hunter kept glancing toward the front of the plane, checking his instruments, then turning sideways in his pilot’s seat to face Kristin. “Knowing the truth and being able to prove it in court are two different things.” She felt herself burning up with fury despite the chilling effect of the blasting wind. How could anything be so unjust? She hated thinking of this. She had deliberately avoided thinking of it during the entire time she was in Europe, partly by drinking, partly by blanking it out of her mind. Now that she was allowing herself to think of these things again, she was overwhelmed by the impact of her rage. She was actually shaking in her seat. For a moment she was speechless.

  “I want you to just leave it as it is,” Hunter said. “I’m not saying forget about it. Just leave it alone.”

  “Are you going to leave it alone?”

  She saw his eyes narrow in that characteristic way of his as he assessed her, deciding whether to tell the truth or not. He had never lied to her, except when it was necessary to keep his cover from being blown, and he did not lie to her now.

  “No,” he said. “I’m not going to leave it alone.” His expression changed. He lowered his goggles now and said in a commanding voice, “But you are!” Then he turned back to face the front and said nothing further on the subject.