by Sharon Sala
“Seen enough?” Chance asked.
“Cowboy, either hold me, or cut me loose and let me roam,” Jenny said. Her feet were already tapping in time to the music.
“You don’t roam for anyone but me, darlin’,” Chance said as he swung her into his arms and into the two-step rhythm of the song.
The music played on. The couples danced. Jenny and Chance were lost in the loud and noisy chaos of the night, and in each other.
After more than two hours passed, Jenny was finally winding down from her dancing high. Chance was tired, but not tired of holding Jenny.
Dancing with her had been another revelation. He hadn’t known that fleeting touches of his hand across her curvy backside, her breasts brushing gently against his chest as they swayed in time to the music, or the intermittent contact between their thighs, could be such a turn-on. But he did now.
He didn’t need her naked and begging to make him want her. He didn’t even have to have her alone. Here they were, surrounded by a maelstrom of milling couples, dressed from neck to ankle in jeans and shirts, and he was hurting like hell.
But something was bothering him, and it had nothing to do with Jenny. For a long time, he’d had the strangest sensation that he was being watched. And it wasn’t a clinical kind of observation. It felt personal—an “I know who you are,” sensation.
Logan sat in a chair against the wall, holding the same drink he’d ordered when he first arrived. He was all but frozen to the spot, staring at the tall man with the pretty, dark-haired woman who kept passing his table as they circled the small dance floor.
The pain in his chest kept reminding him that he hadn’t died on the spot. Hell! he thought to himself, I thought you were through with me, didn’t I, boy?
And then he caught himself. This person was no boy. The boy had become a man…and quite a man at that. He slammed the drink down on the table and it sloshed all over his fingers, making the couple beside him stare and frown in disapproval.
“What are you lookin’ at?” he growled, and waved at the waitress who quickly replenished his order.
What really made Logan Henry sick was that he was looking at the one thing he’d always wanted. A son. He’d known for such a long time that he had one but had refused to claim him. He had let the boy fend for himself in the worst possible atmosphere, and he’d done the boy’s mother an injustice. In his heart, he knew it. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it. Not to Margaret, his ex-wife, and not to Victoria. And especially not to the one who’d needed to hear it most, his own son.
When he’d first seen Chance walking through the throng of dancers, he thought he’d imagined it. He couldn’t be so lucky as to have the object of his search actually walk in and sit down in the same room with him. But having his fears confirmed, that the man was here, didn’t make them better. It only made him wonder why Chance McCall had come back to Odessa.
Now he had new fears. What would this do to Victoria? Once he’d nearly beaten the boy to death. He’d later regretted it, but it had been too late. Now he feared another confrontation, but this time, he wouldn’t be beating anyone. This man, his son, was taller, broader, and a damn sight younger than he. What was making him furious was that the bastard could become king of the hill, and Logan Henry wasn’t ready to step aside for any man.
“Chance?” Jenny asked as the last notes of a song faded away.
“What, darlin’?” He leaned down to catch her question.
“Who’s that man?” She pointed toward the opposite side of the room.
“What man?” Then, through the dim light, Chance caught the stare. It was fixed and threatening…and familiar. A sensation of déjà vu crossed his mind.
Logan knew they’d seen him. It was time. Maybe it would take nothing but money to get rid of the problem. He stood up and started across the dance floor, blind to everything but the couple against the other wall, and walked straight into a waitress carrying a full tray of drinks.
The tray went flying, and the drinks followed. Three tables and the patrons seated there were drenched. The uproar that followed engulfed Logan Henry.
“Come on, honey,” Chance said. “I don’t know what his problem was. Maybe he was just looking for a fight. If he was, he found what he was looking for.”
He hustled Jenny quickly out of the club before the little fracas got bigger. Besides, he still had a problem to work out, and it was growing by the minute. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to ease the pressure behind his zipper, and then grinned as Jenny slid her hand up his thigh.
Chance walked out of the bathroom, a bath towel wrapped around his waist, and then stopped in his tracks at the sight of Jenny lying stretched out in the middle of the bed, wearing nothing but a smile.
“What are you doing, darlin’? Is this supposed to be a hint?” He was almost afraid to hear her answer. As far as he was concerned, Jenny was a law unto herself.
“Ummm…I’m about to embarrass you,” she said. She crawled out of the bed, and yanked the towel from around his waist.
He grinned. “Well, you’ve done it,” he said. “Just look at me blush.”
Jenny stared, fascinated in spite of herself at the rising evidence of his embarrassment. “You don’t look like you’re blushing to me,” she said. “It looks to me like you’re too full of pride for your own good. You know what they say, ‘pride goeth before a fall.’”
“Then catch me, darlin’, before my pride falls.”
Jenny’s hands snaked out, and Chance groaned.
“Not again, you don’t,” he warned. He scooped her off her feet and deposited her on the bed.
Jenny’s hands stopped their search as Chance slid between her legs. Her eyes widened. But there was no time to talk as Chance took Jenny dancing.
Chance swore. He turned and swung, but there was no one there. The voice taunted, just beyond the circle of light from the fire burning inside the house. “Bastard!” the voice called. “I didn’t want you! You weren’t supposed to be born!”
He tossed and moaned, trying to argue, needing to stop the taunt. But it remained just out of reach, and just out of sight. And then, as always, the woman’s voice crying, and the girl’s voice begging. And the blood…everywhere. Then the sirens…and the flashing lights…and a pain exploding inside his head that sent him rocketing out of bed.
Jenny woke just as he moaned, and before she could stop him, he was out of bed, staggering in the darkness toward the bathroom.
She was behind him in a flash. In time to catch sight of the tears just before he rubbed them away. It sent her into a rage.
“I don’t know who’s hurt you!” she cried, as she yanked the towel from his hands and began drying his face on her own. “But I can tell you, as God is my witness, when I find him…or her…” Her threat ended on a sob.
“Jenny!” He gathered her in his arms. “Honey! Don’t! I don’t know what makes these come.” He ran her hand across his face, tracing the last path of the tears. “I don’t feel sad when I wake, baby. I’m not even aware it happens. The worst I can say is, this always leaves me feeling…” he shrugged, searching for the word to describe the emotion, “…empty.”
He held her hand, turned out the light, and led them both back to bed.
“Come here, little warrior,” he said, curling her spoon-fashion into the curve of his body. “Maybe if I hold you, the dreams won’t come. And then we can both get some sleep.”
“But—”
“Hush. Tomorrow’s soon enough for worry. Just hold onto me…and rest.”
Jenny complied. But she didn’t sleep. She stared blindly into the darkness, curving her body protectively against him, as if warding off any further demons that might come stalking.
Logan walked into his house, flung his car keys across the room, and staggered down the hallway toward the bathroom. He winced as the bright vanity light over the mirror blinded his bloodshot eyes.
“You look like hell,” he told himself, and leaned
forward, staring long and hard at the evidence of his “good time.”
He had a cut on his lip and a darkening bruise across his cheekbone. Victoria was going to have a fit. She’d rant and rail at him for setting a poor example for his grandsons. And she’d be right. When would this constant spiral of wrong decisions ever stop?
“When are you ever going to get it right, you fool?” he asked himself. He snorted, turned on the taps, and began to bathe his hot, aching face with cool water.
Later, as he lay in bed, waiting for sleep or morning, whichever came first, he thought back to the look Chance had sent him from across the room. It was strange, but it had not been what he’d expected. He’d expected hate, or anger. At least disgust or disdain. What he hadn’t expected was to be ignored. Chance had looked at him as one would a stranger.
“Surely I haven’t changed so much he didn’t recognize me?” Logan muttered to himself.
But the answers wouldn’t come. And neither would sleep. When daybreak finally arrived, Logan was sitting on his back porch, nursing a cup of hot coffee and the makings of a black eye. Hell of a way to greet a day.
Victoria sighed and checked her makeup in the rearview mirror as she pulled out onto the highway. The babysitter she’d hired to come stay with the twins had been late. Chance and Jenny would be wondering what had happened to her. Anticipation jumped as she faced the idea of spending the day with Chance. Learning what kind of a man he’d become was exciting. She’d dearly loved the boy. She wanted to love the man…but as a brother. At last, that thought was firmly entrenched in her heart.
She fidgeted nervously as she entered the outskirts of Odessa, squinting at the bright sunlight that bounced off the hood of her car. She fished her sunglasses out of her purse, slid them up her nose and into place, and began watching for the right street. The Best Western Garden Oasis was definitely several steps up in accommodations from where they’d previously been. She grinned, remembering Chance’s humorous explanation for the sudden move. Victoria sympathized. She had the same problem with snakes.
The motel sign came into view. She changed lanes and turned into the parking lot. Now all she had to do was find room 224.
Logan felt like the lowest kind of sneak. He couldn’t believe he’d actually staked out his daughter’s house and was following her into town. But he had, and he was, and there was no denying the fact that he was frantically trying to keep her in sight and remain undetected at the same time.
“This looked easier on TV,” he said, as he dodged a delivery van that changed lanes in front of him.
It was the way Victoria had been acting that worried him. Ken was out of town, and she kept hiring baby-sitters. It was unlike her to be gone so much from the boys. And then there was the phone number to that seedy motel. Although the man had been nowhere around, it remained to be answered why she’d had the number in the first place.
Logan kept remembering that his daughter had once tried to kill herself over this man. And he remembered Chance, twelve years ago, by his mother’s grave. The hate on his face, the torment he was obviously going through, could have festered enough for all these years that he’d finally decided it was time for retribution. What better way than to destroy everything that Logan Henry held dear?
It didn’t occur to Logan that other people might not be willing to destroy one person to get to another. The conclusion he’d come to was simply a deduction based on actions that he would have taken.
“Oh, shit!” he muttered when he saw his daughter’s car turning in to another motel.
He darted across the lanes of traffic, turned in several cars behind her, and parked out of sight, watching as she exited her car and began walking toward the rooms.
“This still doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “Dammit, she’s my daughter. I’ve got to trust her.”
But he sat in the car, feeling sick and sweating profusely, as he watched Victoria disappear into the lobby. He knew that when she came out, if that man was with her, he was ready to kill.
“Victoria! Come in,” Jenny said. “Chance is just getting out of the shower.”
Victoria smiled, taking note of the fashionable cut of the pink slacks and matching blouse Jenny was wearing. She took the offered chair, and then tried not to stare at the obviously unmade bed.
Jenny saw the look. But her answer was not what Victoria would have expected.
“He has nightmares,” Jenny said. Her voice was quiet, almost accusing.
Victoria blanched. An instant understanding passed between the two women. Whatever else, they were both staunch supporters of Chance McCall.
“I’m so sorry,” Victoria said. “It’s still hard to believe that he doesn’t know me. That he doesn’t remember…anything.”
“Well, believe it!” Jenny said. “The first time he woke up in the hospital, and stared at me with that frightened, blank look, I wanted to die. But…some things bridge memories. Love is one. And I think his memory has started to return. Little bits and pieces of things are returning at the most unexpected moments.”
Victoria’s stomach turned. When he finally did remember everything, he might not be as happy to see her.
“I guess it’s hard to see your own brother and realize he doesn’t remember all the childhood memories you once shared,” Jenny said.
Victoria twisted her hands in her lap. How much did she dare say and not give away what was not hers to tell?
“We didn’t exactly grow up together,” Victoria said. She took a deep breath and continued. “We sort of found each other…by accident.” She looked up, caught Jenny’s look of concern, and smiled. “In fact, at first, we didn’t even know we were related.”
Jenny was trying to understand what Victoria was saying, and pick up what she was omitting at the same time.
“That must have been…disconcerting, to say the least,” she said.
“Devastating would be more like it,” Victoria said. “And then Chance’s mother committed suicide and I…” She broke off, unconsciously tracing the thin, white scar on her wrist, and staring out the window, momentarily lost in the ugly horror of yesterday.
Suicide! Chance hadn’t mentioned that, and Jenny realized that she hadn’t asked how his mother had died. She caught the absent movement of Victoria’s fingers tracing the marks on her wrists, and tried not to stare. Dread for whatever else Victoria might reveal began to build.
“How old were you when you two met?” Jenny asked.
Victoria looked up. Long moments passed as she judged the wisdom of giving Jenny this much information. Finally, she spoke.
“We were both eighteen, just about to graduate high school.”
“But how could you be the same age and…” Jenny stopped. “Oh!” The answer spoke volumes.
“Yes, ‘Oh,’” Victoria said. “We’re actually only half-siblings. Chance is older by only a few months. Daddy was married to my mother…and fooling around. Chance grew up unaware of his father’s identity. And I grew up thinking I was an only child.”
“I’m sorry,” Jenny said. “This is something that you and Chance…”
“No!” Victoria cried, and clasped Jenny’s hand. “You don’t understand! It’s not something I could ever tell him. It’s something he must remember on his own.” She shuddered, her eyes begging for agreement. “You have to promise me not to say anything about this.”
“I promise,” Jenny said.
“What are you promising, girl?” Chance asked, as he breezed out of the bathroom.
Both women stared in appreciation of the broad, tanned span of shoulder and muscle across his bare upper half. He was dressed in blue jeans and boots, his hair damp and neatly combed, carrying his shirt.
“Not to ask for seconds at lunch,” Jenny said, knowing that the mention of food would make Chance think they’d been discussing last night’s restaurant and menu. She was right.
“I hope not,” he said. “Did she tell you how much she ate last night? For a little bitty thing, s
he can pack it away.”
“Hush, smart ass,” Jenny said, ignoring his look of glee. “Put on your shirt and quit trying to impress us with your feeble display of muscles.”
Victoria grinned, enjoying the play of love talk between them. She felt good inside. This woman loved Chance enough to weather whatever happened, just as Ken loved her. It was going to be all right.
“Oh Chance!” Victoria gasped, as she watched him turn around, trying to catch the sleeve of his shirt as it dangled down behind. “What happened to your back?”
The freshly healing scars from the injuries he’d suffered were shining pink against his firm, tan back. Victoria stood and walked over to him. Her finger traced a path down his back and around his rib cage. She realized, for the first time, how severely he’d been injured. She’d known he’d been close to death, but seeing it so blatantly revealed made her feel sick. What if he’d died? Tears sparkled in her eyes. She blinked furiously, trying to overcome the sudden burst of emotion at the thought.
“That’s because of me,” Jenny said. Her voice was quiet and full of pain.
“No, darlin’,” Chance said, pulling her into a hug. “I don’t have to remember anything to know that it was for you…not because of you. There’s a world of difference.”
“He’s right, you know,” Victoria said, smiling through her own tears as she watched Chance comforting Jenny. “A man will do a lot for the woman he loves. I should know. Ken did the same for me.”
Victoria changed the subject, suddenly anxious to get outside and into the fresh air, away from too many old emotions and memories.
“Come on, you two. Chance, get your shirt on. We’ve got a city to see.”
In no time, they were ready to leave, and had started out the door when Jenny remembered her sunglasses. In the constant bright sunlight and near cloudless skies, she would be miserable without them.
“I need my shades,” she said. “You two go on, I’ll catch up with you at the car. Can’t be getting squint lines at my tender age.”
