Running Scared

by Lisa Jackson

  “I can handle myself,” he said, yanking his hand away and stuffing both fists into his front pockets. If this was going to be a sideshow, so be it. He wasn’t going to come out looking like a wimp and leaning on a woman.

  The interior of the house reminded Daegan of a seldom-used museum. A sweeping staircase rose from the hallway to the second floor, split and climbed to the third. Oak floors were polished to a mirror finish then decorated with rugs that looked like they came from some place in the Far East. Antiques and mirrors, tables and lamps, living plants and paintings of dead ancestors filled the corners. Music was playing through hidden speakers—some classical piece performed by an orchestra. “This way,” Stu said, leading them through a short hallway where Daegan heard the first sound of voices.

  “…I don’t care; this was a dumb idea. Mummy will kill us if she finds out,” the nasal voice of a girl complained. “What is this surprise of Stu’s anyway? Really, he can be such a bore.”

  “If it weren’t for Stu, how much fun would we ever have?” whined Collin. Though he’d never met him face-to-face, Daegan had heard his voice often enough at a distance. He gritted his teeth.

  “I love surprises,” another younger, female voice said excitedly.

  “Mummy will skin us alive.” The first girl—probably snotty Alicia. Daegan felt as if a rope had settled over his neck. With each step, the noose tightened.

  “She’ll never know.” Collin again.

  Hell, this was a crazy idea. What was he doing here? Why had he agreed to come?

  “Whatever Stu’s cooked up, you can bet it will be good.”

  Daegan’s stomach clenched into a knot of apprehension, and he wondered what had possessed him to leave the familiar and comfortable surroundings of Shorty’s Pool Hall. He didn’t have to be told that he was about to step into the middle of a three-ring circus and he was the main attraction. He slid a glance in his eldest cousin’s direction, but didn’t get a clue as to his true motives. Just what the hell was Stuart Sullivan’s game? As he had before, he tried to look into the older boy’s mind, but to no avail; Stuart’s thoughts were as closed to him as a sealed vault.

  They walked into a room that spanned the back of the house, and for the first time in his life, Daegan met his half-brother and-sisters. Silhouetted against a brilliant, crackling blaze, Frank’s other children were clustered around a huge fireplace faced in marble. For a split second, Daegan thought he caught a glimpse of his own personal vision of hell.

  “Oh, shit,” Collin said softly. The glass in his hand nearly fell to the floor.

  “What’s the meaning of this—?” the taller girl, Alicia, asked. Her blue, frosty gaze landed on Daegan with all the warmth of an arctic storm. Her skin was pale, her mouth set in condemnation. “Stuart, how could you?”

  Bonnie, smaller than her sister, bit her lip. “That’s—”

  “We know who he is,” Alicia snapped, fury burning in the sudden hot spots on her cheeks. “You said we were going to have a party!” she said, seething as she glared at Stuart.

  “We are. A private party.” Stuart was as calm as Alicia was enraged. “I thought it was time we all got to know each other.”

  “Bastard!”

  “Not me,” Stuart said easily and Daegan wanted to strangle him.

  Bonnie just stared at Daegan as if he were the reincarnation of the devil himself.

  “We’re all family here,” Stuart said.

  “Pleeeeease.” Bibi reached into her leather handbag for her cigarettes. “Give me a break. Family?”

  “Sure, we are. Daegan’s our cousin and their brother.”

  “Get this straight, Stuart. He’s not my brother,” Alicia said. She tossed her long, blond curls over her shoulder. “He’s—”

  “Here. In Uncle Robert’s house. Why?” Collin asked, folding his arms over his chest. Slender, with even features and smooth skin, he was dressed in a wool sweater and slacks, his dark blond hair combed neatly.

  Bibi clicked her lighter to the end of a cigarette. Bonnie flopped down on the cushions of a tufted couch and continued to stare at him as if he were an oddity under a microscope—an interesting organism she couldn’t hope to understand.

  “Because it’s time,” Stuart said, striding over to the bar and lifting a crystal glass from a dust-free shelf. He sorted through an array of gleaming bottles. “I don’t know about you, but I’m sick to death of hearing about him—well, not to my face, of course—but behind closed doors. I thought we should all meet each other and get it over with. Come on, Collin, you have to admit, you’ve been curious for a long time and you”—his gaze swept back to Daegan—“I know you wanted to see what we’re all like. You used to climb up in the tree by the church on Sunday mornings, just to catch a glimpse of us going into Mass.”

  Daegan wanted to deny it, but just shrugged. No reason to lie. Obviously Stuart had watched him.

  “You sneaky little bastard,” Alicia spat out. “You were spying on us?” Her voice rose an angry octave.

  “Yeah,” Daegan admitted, sick of her holier-than-thou attitude

  “It wasn’t a big deal,” Stuart said as he found a bottle of scotch and poured himself a stiff shot. “It wasn’t as if you were stripping or running around in your bra and panties, now, was it?”

  “Stuart!” Bibi cut in.

  “Just pointing out the obvious.”

  Alicia’s mouth rounded in horror. “You’re disgusting,” she told her oldest cousin, and Stuart had the audacity to grin back at her.

  “I don’t think so. Anyone else want a drink?”

  “No!” Alicia said swiftly.

  “Sure.” Collin nodded, then tossed back the remains of the one he’d been working on.

  “Why not?” Bibi asked.

  Stuart’s gaze found Daegan’s and held. “How about you?”

  Daegan knew he should keep a clear head, but he couldn’t resist a taste of rich man’s fare. Besides, his throat was dry as sand. “Yeah.”

  “You’re pouring him a drink?” Alicia shook her head in disbelief. “Stuart, you can’t just haul him up here and—”

  “Can it!” Bibi cut in.

  “Isn’t this illegal?” Bonnie’s little eyebrows drew together and she chewed on her lip nervously. “We’re not old enough—”

  “Highly illegal,” Stuart assured her as he passed out the glasses and clicked his to Daegan’s. “Welcome to the family,” he said mockingly as the fire popped and hissed. “You’ll never find a worse set of lying cutthroats, cheats, and whoremongers than the Sullivans of Boston.”

  “I won’t be a part of this.” Alicia’s body quivered in outrage and her nostrils flared in disgust. “You’ve gone too far this time, Stu. Too damned far.”

  Stuart’s eyes sparkled. “That’s what you love about me, isn’t it?” His wink was slow and sexy, and Daegan’s stomach revolted when he realized that Stuart got his kicks by manipulating everyone, making them all uncomfortable. He wasn’t just playing with Daegan, but the whole damned family.

  “It’s what I hate about you,” she clarified.

  “Then let me point out that you’re a part of it whether you like it or not.” Stuart’s smile held zero warmth. “Sit down and shut up.”

  “I will not—”

  “Do it,” Collin ordered, and Alicia, in all her self-righteous rage, refused, stood her ground, and rested a hip on the polished surface of a babygrand piano. Her jaw was set so tight the skin over her chin was stretched thin. “I think Stuart’s right.”

  “You always think he’s right,” Alicia charged. “Use your own brain for once, Collin. That is, if you have one.”

  “I am always right.” Stuart seemed to be enjoying himself and he sent an unreadable glance to Collin.

  Daegan’s skin crawled. There was more going on here than just his personal humiliation; people’s emotions were involved—emotions that they all tried to hide and hold secret.

  Collin cleared his throat and settled into a club chair
near the window. “It’s probably time we all got to know each other—”

  “No way! I didn’t come up here to freeze my ass off and meet the son of some gutter—”

  “Don’t!” Collin warned, his lips flattening over his teeth in what Daegan assumed was an unusual display of anger. Then, in his most cultured voice, the modulation the perfect mimicry of his sisters, he intoned, “Come now, Alicia, let’s not sound common.”

  “Like him?” She pointed a long finger at Daegan. “He’s the son of Daddy’s whore, or don’t you remember?”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Daegan said, unable to hold his tongue any longer. Usually, in a new situation he was quiet, just listened and watched, waiting until he discovered which way the wind was going to blow, but he’d had enough insults for one night. His patience was running thin and anger shot through him. These people—his family, if that’s what you’d call them—were just a bunch of bickering, petty snobs looking for a night’s entertainment to disrupt the boredom of their perfectly planned lives. Who needed it? Curiosity satisfied, he tossed back the scotch, hoping it would be smooth and smoky, but it burned a hot path down his throat and splashed into his already roiling stomach. It was all he could do not to cough and he felt that invisible noose around his neck tightening another notch.

  Bibi laughed nervously, but Alicia was far from amused. “I suppose this was your idea,” she surmised aloud.

  “Yeah, but I was only joking.” Bibi tapped the ash from her cigarette into a silver tray.

  “So was I,” Stuart said with that naughty-boy twinkle in his eye and Daegan decided he wasn’t going to stand around and let people talk about him as if he wasn’t in the room. He strode to the fireplace, where he warmed his shins and ran a finger along a dark wood mantel that was decorated with antique lanterns and candles. “Who owns this place?”

  “Daddy,” Bibi said.

  “That’s open to debate, isn’t it?” Collin stared at Daegan with mild curiosity. “The firstborn son of our parents’ generation was Uncle William, a war hero in World War II, and killed three weeks before he was going to be married. Since he left no issue, the next in line was Robert, quite a bit younger, but older than the youngest brother. My father. Yours, too, if the local gossip can be believed.

  “So, I guess, if we follow the same traditions that have been in the family ever since the old country, most of the estate will pass on to Stu because of his birthright or some such rot.”

  Stuart laughed and the sound rang through the cavernous rooms. “Unless I die first. Then…well, either Bibi gets it or Uncle Frank does. I’m not sure how Grandfather’s will was written.”

  “Like hell,” Alicia said, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “I’m willing to bet that you know where every dime, nickel, and penny of the estate is and who it goes to. You know, Stuart, just because you’re lucky enough to be the firstborn male of the firstborn male—”

  “Second born. Remember poor Uncle William,” Collin interjected.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m just saying that just because Stuart was born first doesn’t make him smarter than the rest of us.”

  “Just luckier,” Stuart said. Collin stepped closer to his older cousin, as if Stuart needed protection from Alicia’s wicked tongue. Stuart seemed unruffled; if anything, he appeared amused by this little party he’d put together.

  Collin finished his drink and set the glass on the bar. “Arguing and picking at each other isn’t getting us anywhere.”

  “Amen,” Bibi said under her breath and offered Collin a fragile smile.

  “What’s the point?” Alicia demanded.

  “The point is that we all have a bastard in the family,” Stuart said, “and I was just wondering what we’re going to do about him.”

  The imaginary rope around his neck snapped with the flare of Daegan’s temper. “Nothing.” He’d seen enough. These people were pathetic, all consumed with their family’s wealth and not giving a damn about anyone else. He slammed his empty glass onto the mantel and glared pointedly at his eldest cousin. “There’s nothing you can do about me and I’m sick of this. If you want some cheap entertainment, go out and watch a porno flick, or laugh at the poor or torture a cat or something but leave me alone.” He turned and strode quickly out of the room, his heels clicking loudly against the gleaming wood.

  “Wait!” Bibi ran after him.

  “He’s not going anywhere,” Stuart said confidently as Daegan strode out of the room and down the hallway. He couldn’t catch his breath in this stuffy old house filled with antiques, hot air, and inflated, prejudiced opinions. What had he been thinking when he’d slid into the seductive interior of the Cadillac?

  “Idiot,” he ground out, his fist clenching. He slammed it into one of the walls, splintering the old plaster. What a fool he’d been to come here! Why hadn’t he listened to his own gut feelings? What twisted sense of curiosity had lured him here? Every instinct had warned him to avoid the Sullivans like the proverbial plague and yet he’d allowed himself to be seduced; he’d wanted to be a part, just for a few seconds, of the family. Well, now he knew what they were made of and he didn’t like any of them. Including Bibi.

  She caught up with him and grasped his arm. “Look, Daegan, please. Just stop for a second.”

  He didn’t break stride, just threw her off.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Forget it.”

  “No, really, Daegan—”

  Spinning around so quickly his body slammed up against hers, he grabbed both her arms and pushed her against the wall. A picture of Rose Kennedy rattled and fell to the floor, glass shattering everywhere. Bibi’s eyes widened in fear. “I don’t want your apologies,” he growled, feeling not the least bit of remorse when she tried to pull away and he only pinned her in his punishing grip. “I don’t want your excuses, and most of all, I don’t want your pity.” He let go of her then. “I should never have come here.”

  “Why did you?” she demanded.

  Good question. A damned good question. “I was stupid and couldn’t help myself.” Walking through the front door, he heard other voices getting closer. Great. Stuart and his flock of ninnies were following after him to see what the poor, pathetic bastard would do. “It won’t happen again.” As he strode down the icy steps, he thought about “borrowing” one of the Sullivan fleet, but decided against it. With his luck, one of them would press charges. It galled him to think that for even one second he had envied them and wanted to be accepted. Well, not anymore. For all he cared, everyone bearing the last name of Sullivan could rot merrily in hell.

  The path that led behind the lake house to the indoor tennis court was covered with snow, a smooth white blanket glazed with ice. Cool, pristine, glossy, much like the facade of the Sullivan family.

  But that facade was now marred by the appearance of Daegan O’Rourke, the bastard son who had reared his head like the straggly brown weed that poked through the snow cover, corrupting the serene winterscape. Yes, he was an insipid weed that threatened to crack the smooth veneer of the family.

  Not that the Sullivans were perfect. They had their share of blemishes. Liars and adulterers, drinkers and cheats. But Father O’Meara was always reminding the parishioners that no one was perfect, that God had made man a flawed creature. Original sin started with Adam and Eve in the Garden. Maybe that explained Frank Sullivan’s incredible lapse to have conceived a bastard out of wedlock, let alone encourage the kid by continuing to mess around with his mother.

  No sin goes unpunished. But now, were they all going to have to pay for Frank Sullivan’s sin? Was this bastard son planning to insinuate himself into the family?

  The tennis court was chilly inside, but light flooded the shiny floor at the touch of a switch. A basket of balls would help ease the tension brought on by the unwanted bastard. The nerve of Daegan O’Rourke, coming here and thinking he could possibly belong, thinking he would ever be accepted as a Sullivan when in truth he was a mistake of nature, a stupid accide
nt. Well, he would be hard-pressed to pass himself off as a Sullivan.

  A tennis ball lingered in the air as if suspended, then went soaring over the net.

  A second ball hovered for a moment before it, too, was slammed onto the court.

  Each serve a blow to Daegan O’Rourke.

  Each forceful swing a strike at his skull.

  Each direct hit a vow of the violent pounding he would suffer if he ever dared tangle with the Sullivans again.

  “It won’t happen again,” Daegan had promised during his hasty exit.

  Perfect, because never would be too soon to see the dark, handsome face that resembled Frank Sullivan more than any of his children—his real children. If Daegan O’Rourke was smart, he would keep his distance and stay far, far away from the Sullivan clan. He would learn that the Sullivans were a family to be reckoned with.

  And if he didn’t?

  He would have to be stopped.

  Daegan didn’t see any of the Sullivans for two months. After hitchhiking back to the city from the mansion on the lake, he avoided any place he thought a Sullivan might show up. Which wasn’t hard. Before Stuart’s little get-together, the whole tribe had acted as if he hadn’t ever existed. As far as he was concerned, they could go back to that scenario.

  His good luck ran out one blistering cold day in February. He worked after school for a fuel company. Shoveling coal, pumping oil into huge trucks, and stacking cords of firewood were his primary jobs—backbreaking labor that helped keep him out of trouble and honed his muscles.

  He didn’t expect Bibi to show up, but as he walked away from the manager’s office, his meager paycheck folded in his back pocket, he blew on his fingers for warmth and saw her leaning against the fender of a silver Corvette. Several of the guys changing shifts slowed their stride. Whistling, they eyed her long legs and big bust along with the sleek lines and wide tires of her car. Daegan didn’t know which was likely to give them more of a hard-on—Bibi’s sultry pout or the menacing throb of the Corvette’s engine.