Hatfield and McCoy

by Heather Graham

  Beyond a doubt, Julie Hatfield had a way with her, McCoy decided. When he returned to the house, he released Rusty from his leash and called to Julie.

  “Come this way, McCoy, over them thar hills!” she called back.

  He grinned and followed the voice to his bedroom.

  His bed had never looked so good.

  She was stark naked, stretched out on his sheets on her stomach. She leaned on her elbows, waiting for him, a wineglass held easily, invitingly in her hands. His own glass was on the dresser, and a tray of cheese was at the foot of the bed, embellished with grapes and bite-size pieces of apples and wedges of orange. They were all displayed beautifully.

  Not quite as beautifully as Julie.

  He walked to her and slipped the wineglass from her hand, then sipped from it. His eyes met hers. “How the hell did our families ever have a feud?” he wondered aloud.

  She smiled, coming up on her knees, deftly undoing the buttons of his light, short-sleeved, pin-striped shirt. She nuzzled her face against his chest as she did so, her nose and cheeks so soft against the coarseness of the hair there.

  “Oh, I can see where a McCoy might be an argumentative type,” she said flatly.

  “Oh, yeah?” He set the wineglass down and threaded his fingers gently through her hair, lifting her face to his. He kissed her. Deliberated. Kissed her again. Then spoke softly. “I think I know what the feud must have been over.”

  Her eyes were nearly closed. “What’s that?”

  “A McCoy must have ravaged a Hatfield daughter. What do you think?”

  “I think that maybe the daughter changed sides afterward,” she said innocently, laughter in her eyes. “Then again …”

  “Yes?”

  “Maybe the Hatfield daughter ravaged the McCoy.” With her words, she slipped the cotton shirt from his shoulders. She pressed her lips against his shoulder blades. She teased the flesh with the soft trail of her tongue, then moved her face against his chest again.

  Slowly, with a sensuous, circular motion, she moved downward against him. Her fingers moved just beneath the delicate caress of her lips.

  She found the buckle to his belt and deftly undid it. His zipper gave to her touch, and she heard the soft groan that left his lips and felt the wild shudder that ripped his body. His hands landed gently on her naked shoulders, but for a moment he let her have her way.

  She peeled the trousers and briefs from his hips. She nuzzled him, stroked him, teased him in every manner. Then she felt a second groan, almost a growl, stirring within him, growing within him, suddenly erupting from him, and she was lifted up, crushed into his arms, held against him. Her breasts were pressed against the rugged hardness of his chest, and at the juncture of her thighs, she felt an explosive heat of desire.

  In seconds she was aggressively lifted up, only to find herself falling back, McCoy with her. The bed seemed to encompass them. Then quickly, fiercely, he was one with her, and sharp rays of fire seemed to shoot out from the searing center of her to radiate through her limbs and beyond. Her arms wound around him, and she felt the slickness of their bodies touch again and again. She’d never felt him quite so tense, quite so explosive. Muscles knotted and eased beneath her fingertips; drumbeats seemed to throb throughout her, rising to a blinding pitch.

  Then the world seemed to explode into tiny fragments of light and dark. She gasped and trembled with the rocking force of magic that touched her.

  His arms came more tightly around her. He eased to her side, enveloping her.

  And for the first time that day, he seemed to be really at ease, entirely relaxed.

  Julie smiled, trailing her fingers over his arm. She leaned her head back. He stroked her hair lightly.

  “Was it worth your while?” she teased.

  “Entirely,” he replied in muffled tones. McCoy closed his eyes. He did feel great. Not only sated, but at peace. And tired. He wanted to hold her now, just hold her, and sleep. Perhaps she felt the same. She didn’t speak again. He heard her breathing slow, heard it soften.

  “I’ll walk the dog whenever you want,” he promised lightly.

  “Um,” she murmured.

  Seconds later, he was convinced that she was asleep. He closed his eyes. All the little things that sometimes troubled him were gone. He didn’t hear creaks in the flooring or feel a cramping in his leg muscles. He didn’t feel anything but good. And relaxed.

  “I love you, Julie,” he whispered. She didn’t hear him. She was already sleeping soundly.

  Soon he had drifted off himself.

  When the phone began to ring, it sounded like an air-raid siren to him. He bolted up, fumbling for the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  Beside him, Julie, too, was stirring. She had been deeply, deeply asleep. Her blond hair was a wild, beautiful cascade all around her. Her catlike eyes were unfocused, barely opened. He wanted to reach out and touch her, reassure her. To cradle her against him.

  “McCoy, it’s Petty,” McCoy heard. Then he realized that he was listening to something in the background.

  Someone was sobbing …

  And it came back, the feeling that had plagued him. It was dread. It slammed against him with the force of a brick wall, and he could barely catch his breath.

  “What is it, what’s happened?”

  “McCoy, you need to get back here right away. He’s struck again.”

  “The kidnapper?”

  “Yes.” There was a hesitation again. McCoy could still hear the sobbing.

  “Petty, damn it, tell me, what has happened? Who—”

  “He’s taken your niece, Tammy Maitland. Brenda is here with me. She’s in pretty bad shape. And the kidnapper says that you’d better get back fast if any of us ever wants to see Tammy again.”

  Chapter 11

  Julie sat on her front porch, alone, and still stunned by what had happened.

  And stunned by McCoy’s behavior.

  She had been nothing short of horrified, her heart as torn as his, when she had learned that Tammy had been kidnapped. She knew the value of time, and she could have been ready to travel with him in a matter of minutes.

  Except that he didn’t want her with him.

  “I’m going now,” he had told her, sitting on the side of the bed, pulling on his shoes. “I have friends who can get me back quickly with the chopper. You can bring the Lincoln for me. Drive to your house. When it’s over, I’ll find you there.”

  “When it’s over? But, McCoy, I can help—”

  “No!”

  She had never heard the word snapped out more emphatically in her whole life.

  “McCoy, I know that bad things have happened to you in the past, but damn it, I can help you. This is your niece! My God, you should be using every possible means—”

  “Julie, no, and I mean no! I don’t want you in on this! If you get in my way this time, I’ll have you arrested.”

  She’d never been more stunned, and despite the fact that she knew he was emotionally involved and in pain, she struck back, in pain herself. Now she didn’t remember all she had called him and told him. He had pushed her away from him and left.

  He had taken the dog, and not her.

  Julie hadn’t wasted any time. McCoy could feel any way he wanted to feel, but if there was anything she could do to help Brenda and Tammy, she was going to do it.

  Tears stung her eyes. They’d been so close. It seemed that so many arguments had slid into the past, lost to the incredible warmth and attraction between them.

  Lost to love.

  But the love hadn’t really been there, not deep enough. Not deep enough to sustain them in the face of this crisis. Not when Tammy …

  She hadn’t driven by the station—she had come straight home. Then she had called in and spoken briefly with Timothy Riker, who had whispered to her that the kidnapper was supposed to be calling in a few hours.

  He had waited for McCoy. He would negotiate with McCoy only.

  Tammy wa
s out there somewhere. Brenda was hysterical. And McCoy wouldn’t let Julie near.

  Julie closed her eyes. She had always managed to help through the victim. She knew Tammy Maitland. And Tammy wasn’t stupid or foolish—she would never have just gone off with the kidnapper. Unless it was someone she trusted. Or unless she was taken completely off guard.

  This was her expertise, she told herself. Even if you can’t be there, think. See Tammy …

  She concentrated very hard. In a minute, she began to see a blurred vision of Brenda Maitland’s old farmhouse. She saw the front lawn and the porch. There was another blur, and she saw the back. The barbecue was there, and the big picnic table where they had eaten that night.

  And there was Tammy. Yes … she saw Tammy.

  The little girl was sitting at the table. Her light hair was drawn back with a blue ribbon. Her blue eyes were focused on a pile of sticks before her. Popsicle sticks. She was busy building something with the pile of sticks and some glue.

  A cloud passed overhead. Tammy shivered. She was wearing blue jeans with little bows at the ankles, pink socks, white sneakers, a pink T-shirt and a big crimson pullover sweater. With the cloud passing, the breeze picked up.

  Julie could feel it. Feel the breeze. It was cool against her cheeks, but pleasant. It was a soft breeze. A spring breeze.

  Taylor came striding out of the woods behind the house. “Could have sworn someone was back there,” he said, shaking his head. “Sure wish we had a dog. I heard something.”

  “You heard a skunk. Or a raccoon,” Tammy told her brother. She bit her lower lip, dedicated to the task before her. Taylor snorted and walked toward the house. “Where’s Mom?”

  “Inside somewhere. Bring me a drink, Taylor, will you?”

  “Tammy—”

  “Please?”

  “Yeah, all right, give me a minute.”

  Taylor was gone. The cloud overhead moved on. Tammy glued another piece to her Popsicle house.

  Then she felt a queer sensation and turned around. The woods were still quiet. She frowned. She quickly forgot the interruption and turned her attention to her project.

  She felt it again. An eerie sensation, shooting up her spine. She heard a rustling. She tried to turn to discover what it was.

  Too late. She tried to scream as the sudden darkness descended upon her, but something hard and tight was over her mouth. And something harsh and rough had been thrown over her head, like burlap. There was a smell to it, too.

  She didn’t see anything or anyone. She felt the material, abrasive against her skin. And all her senses seemed to fade away. There was that awful, sickly scent. And the hand outside the burlap, pressing down against her mouth.

  Julie suddenly cried out and leaned over. She could feel Tammy’s terror, the very last thoughts traveling through her mind. Taylor. Taylor would come. He was bringing her a drink. Mommy would come, Mommy would see that she was missing.

  He was going to hurt her. He was going to try to, he was going to try to …

  And then nothing.

  “Oh, Lord!” Julie whispered. She sat straight up in her chair on the porch.

  Tammy, I can touch you, where are you? she wondered desperately.

  No answer. Nothing. Nothing at all to help her.

  Dear God, was she dead?

  No, no, she would feel it. Julie would feel it.

  Wake up, Tammy. Please wake up! She prayed silently.

  And that was when Brenda Maitland’s BMW pulled into her driveway.

  Petty had given McCoy his office the moment McCoy made it back. He had been certain that McCoy needed the time to be alone with his sister, and McCoy was grateful.

  He had never seen Brenda in such bad shape. His own fear was so rife that it was almost impossible to hold a rein on his panic. He had to. He was the Gman. And he was Tammy’s uncle.

  But he couldn’t begin to deal with the situation until he had dealt with Brenda. And he couldn’t even talk rationally with Brenda until he had managed to get her to calm down. She had been sobbing for hours, from what he understood. She had refused any kind of a sedative.

  Men had begun combing the grounds as soon as they had discovered that the little girl was missing. It hadn’t helped.

  Then the call had come. The kidnapper was playing cat and mouse with McCoy. Tammy had been especially selected.

  Not Julie, McCoy thought. Because the kidnapper hadn’t been able to get to Julie. He was using Tammy to hurt McCoy instead.

  McCoy knew Julie must hate him now. But he didn’t dare bring her in on it. The kidnapper could make his try for Julie then, and McCoy might well lose them both. No, this time, he had to find Tammy. He had to best the kidnapper; he had to catch him.

  It took him ten minutes with Brenda to calm her down enough to utter one comprehensible word. Then he managed at last to get her to agree to a sedative, and Dr. Willoughby, her local physician, managed to give her a shot. “She’ll be all right—it will just take the edge off her. She’ll be able to help you more,” Willoughby told McCoy.

  And in a matter of minutes, it had worked. Her eyes swollen and red, Brenda described the day to her brother. Tammy, determined to play outside with her Popsicle sticks. Taylor in the woods. Brenda had come into the kitchen when Taylor had been pouring apple juice into a plastic cup to take outside for his sister.

  But Tammy hadn’t been there. Tammy had been gone.

  “He’s got her, McCoy.” Tears welled in Brenda’s eyes again. “He’s got my baby.”

  “I’ll get her back, Brenda. I’ll get her back.”

  “How?”

  “He’s calling me, Brenda. He wants me. I’ll let him have me. We’ll get Tammy back.”

  She stared at him, her eyes glazed. “I want Julie, Robert. I want Julie here. I want her to help.”

  He stiffened.

  “You blame her for what happened before, Robert! You can’t do that! She can help me. Please, Robert, she can help me!” Brenda was starting to sob again.

  It was then that the phone rang. He gave a quick motion to Patty to see that a trace was started, then he picked up the receiver.

  “You know the phone booth, McCoy, and you know the price. I want my money this time. Be there. Seven o’clock tonight.”

  The line went dead. There was no possibility of a trace.

  He swore and slammed the line down. Brenda stared at him hopefully. “It’s going to be all right. He wants to meet me. I’ll get her back.”

  But Brenda wasn’t falling for it. “I want Julie,” she said stubbornly. “You can’t hate her—”

  “Brenda!” he exclaimed, coming to his knees before his sister. “I don’t hate Julie. I don’t know—I don’t know what powers I believe in, but I promise you, I would try anything in the world for Tammy. It’s just that—Brenda, don’t you see, we’re risking Julie if we bring her in on this. He’s called before. He watches Julie.”

  Brenda didn’t care. She knew that her brother liked Julie, really liked her.

  But Tammy was at stake. And Brenda was nearly hysterical.

  “Robert, Julie will be with you. And Rusty. Nothing will happen to her.”

  He sighed, looking at his feet.

  “Robert, he would have killed that other little girl if it hadn’t been for Julie.” She paused. “Julie, and you. She had the perceptions, you had the logic. Robert, this is my daughter!” Her voice was rising hysterically.

  He knew when he was beaten. “All right. Let’s go out and see Julie. I’m sure she’s home by now.”

  “Get Rusty,” Brenda said vaguely.

  McCoy frowned. He had sent the dog with Timothy Riker to go over every inch of his sister’s property. But Brenda wanted the dog.

  “Patty, radio Riker about the dog,” he said. “He can meet me at Julie’s with Rusty. Chief, I’ll be back once I’ve set Brenda up with Julie.”

  “We’ll get the stakeout cars arranged,” Petty said wearily.

  He had a right to be weary, McCoy t
hought. It was happening all over again.

  Just the same way.

  They had saved Tracy Nicholson.

  Now they had to save his niece.

  But this time, they had to catch the man.

  The car had barely come to a halt in front of Julie’s place before Brenda leaped out of the passenger’s seat. Julie stood, waiting tensely. She saw that McCoy had been driving. Brenda raced toward Julie. McCoy got out more slowly, staring at her. Julie tried not to meet his eyes. It wasn’t difficult because Brenda reached her. She needed to be embraced.

  “Julie, please. You have to find Tammy.”

  Julie held Brenda, looking over her shoulder toward McCoy. He was silent, standing there by the car. There was no welcome light in his eyes. He still didn’t want her involved.

  There was nothing about him to suggest that they had been very close just hours ago.

  She squared her shoulders. What happened between them didn’t matter anymore. He had said that he would try. He didn’t intend to try.

  That didn’t matter. Tammy mattered.

  “We’ll find her, Brenda,” she said softly, assuringly.

  Brenda drew away, staring at Julie, the hope in her tear-stained eyes heart-wrenching. “Julie, she’s alive, isn’t she? Please, you’d know, wouldn’t you, if she weren’t. Please, Julie, oh, please—”

  “She’s alive, Brenda,” Julie said. “But she’s—” She hesitated. She didn’t want to tell Brenda that her daughter had been drugged into unconsciousness. “She’s sleeping right now. I know that she’s all right, but I’m not quite sure where she is.”

  Julie expected to hear a sound, some snort of derision; from McCoy. But he didn’t say a word. He was dead silent, watching them both.

  “Should we go to my house?” Brenda suggested. “Maybe—”

  “I don’t think that will really help,” Julie said. “She was taken through the woods at the back of your place, I’m pretty sure. But she didn’t see where she went, so I can’t be much of a help there.” She stared at McCoy.

  “I have to be at the phone booth at the same time tonight,” he said tonelessly.

  “You’ll let me come?”

  He shrugged.

  “Yes, yes!” Brenda cried. “He’ll let you come.”