Legacy of Danger

by Jillian David

  For the dumbest second of his life, he froze. He wanted to rip off her clothes and bury himself deep, pushing her over the edge time and again. Nothing tender about the way he wanted her.

  But tonight, he needed to be different. He needed to make love to her. Temper his hunger and focus it in a different way. Stroking her mouth with his, he poured gentle care into the kisses.

  So the guy who walked right into the fists of opponents and didn't give a crap, the guy who would rather leave town than destroy his brother's life, the guy who wanted to go guns-a-blazing to destroy that demon whatever-it-was... that guy dialed the burner back from boil to simmer.

  Her tiny gasps as he worshipped her with his mouth made him want to tithe at the Church of Mariah for the rest of his godforsaken life.

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd cut her loose.

  Tonight was hers.

  * * *

  Mariah rubbed sandpapery eyes as her alarm buzzed. Snowy dawn gave the room a cool, gray light, and she missed the warmth of snuggling in Vaughn's arms. She stretched muscles that were sore from another night of sheer bliss.

  She had floated with him on a cloud of passion and tenderness for hours last night. The gentleness and connection stunned her.

  If she had questioned whether she should stick with Vaughn and give their relationship a try, if she had wondered if she could support him as he worked through his serious issues, the morning brought clarity. Everyone had baggage. God, she had her fair share.

  It's what you did despite the setbacks that counted.

  Was it the earth-tilting sex that made the decision to try for a future with Vaughn? Didn't hurt.

  But honestly, it was the man himself. The solid guy who tormented himself about things over which he had no control. The man who put others before his own interests. The man who had gone through hell and come out better on the other side.

  She pulled on her pajama pants and a sweatshirt. A flutter of excitement swirled in her belly. She could do this, tell him how she felt. Whatever the future held, they would face it together.

  Weightless effervescence propelled her into the living room.

  Vaughn stood in front of the living room window, hands gripping the curtain rail, his back to her, his big torso blocking the early dawn light.

  "Good morning," she called, eager to sink back into his arms.

  He turned, stiff. Mechanical. The hard planes of his face were indistinct in shadow.

  Clicking on the lamp next to the couch, she froze. That sensual mouth that had given her unending pleasure last night was now jammed into an unyielding, grim line. That gold-glinting gaze that had curled her toes last night had gone cold, like pyrite in a polluted streambed.

  Maybe he was tired. Did he doubt her feelings? Of course. How could he know? She hadn't told him anything yet.

  Squaring her shoulders, she approached him. This time, though, proximity to Vaughn didn't create any warmth.

  In fact, the temperature dropped ten degrees.

  "Feeling better?" he asked, not moving.

  "Better?"

  "Better than yesterday."

  "Sure." She pulled back. "What?"

  "I hope I made you feel better." His words came out flat. Dead.

  Unable to form words, her mind raced to catch up, leaving her mouth gaping open for too long. "Pardon me?"

  He blinked and a flash of intense hunger flipped back to the cold boredom. "You deserved to feel good after the danger I exposed you to yesterday."

  "That wasn't why—" Her voice caught. "What happened on the ranch wasn't your fault." She gulped past a hard lump. "Look, I—"

  He stopped her with a slash of his hand in the air. "No, let me say this. I had plenty of time to think last night. This... fling—whatever we have here—needs to stop. Now." His statements sliced through her like fiery whip lashes. "It was fun for a while, but let's face reality. There's no future."

  "Wait, what?" How she heard him with her heart pounding double time, she didn't know. It was hard to fill her lungs. Nausea crashed into her in churning waves.

  His hands balled into fists at his side, but his expression remained etched in granite. "It's for the best. I'm blowing out of town soon anyway. Don't get me wrong. Things were great for a few days. What a stress reliever, huh?" Another pained crease across his brow, then it went ice rink smooth and cold. "You're smoking hot and smart as hell. But let's get real. You don't fit in with my family. I don't fit into your life. This little fling was never meant to be anything serious."

  This little... fling? The one time she'd trusted someone with her heart and soul.

  And he'd thrown it away like stinky trash.

  You don't fit in...

  Had she imagined their connection? Had her feelings truly been so one-sided?

  Air wouldn't move through her trachea.

  He'd made his choice and it didn't involve Mariah. There was no need to say anything more. No need to beg, no counterarguments. This was it. Done and done. She needed to do something about the fist squeezing the hell out of her heart before she passed out.

  You don't fit in with my family...

  No way. She would not break.

  She locked her knees and shoved an invisible ramrod down her spine. His crappy speech sucked, but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing any reaction.

  "All right, then." He dusted his palms together, like he was washing his hands of her. "Glad to see you're okay. My apologies for all that you had to deal with recently. Take care."

  With a light step out the front door, he eased the door closed. No slamming, no storming off. No drama.

  Nothing.

  Which was exactly what they had all along.

  A fleeting headache came and went.

  The truck engine fired up, headlights throwing lurid shadows on her wall as he backed out of the driveway. Dropping to the carpet on her knees, she curled forward, hand pressed to her chest, mouth open in a silent cry.

  Chapter 33

  The world's biggest asshole slammed the truck door and stomped across the frozen ground and into the kitchen.

  As one, Garrison, Kerr, and Odie looked up from their seats at the kitchen table, half-eaten meals in front of them.

  "Rough week last night?" Kerr quipped.

  "Shut up." Vaughn so wanted to wipe the floor with that know-it-all face. "So, what are you three stooges doing together? Looks like you're plotting world domination."

  Garrison groaned. "Fight with Sara this morning."

  "I'm facilitating the therapy," Kerr winked. "Want to make it a group session?"

  "Have a seat, mon ami. We're trying to figure out women," Odie drawled. "We have no leads, no advantage, and no hope of ever solving the puzzle. You got any ideas?"

  Vaughn motioned to his rumpled, unshaven, sorry-ass appearance. "Does it appear that I have a clue about women?"

  Odie patted the chair next to him, his glass-green eyes disgustingly merry. "You might need something stronger than coffee this morning."

  Kerr whistled low.

  "That's the last thing I need, trust me." Vaughn slumped into the chair and scrubbed his face. "What's the plan for dealing with the badness stalking our ranch?"

  "Way to change the subject, slick," Kerr quipped. "How about fill us in on the woman details first. Why the long face, Trigger?"

  Garrison rubbed his own stubbled jaw. "Yeah. You look like you had your ass handed to you."

  "In two fists." Vaughn studied his brother, like Garrison might have the answers. Nope. "I'm an idiot."

  "Well, we had to endure the story about Garrison's screw-up." Kerr straightened. "Your turn. Inquiring minds want to know."

  "Nothing, man. It's nothing."

  "You walk in here, almost taking the door off the hinges, and it's nothing?" Kerr pursed his lips. "Not buying it. Welcome to circle-sharing time for the boys. We'll all take turns. You're up."

  "I ended things with Mariah this morning."

  Silence fell for a few second
s before Kerr leaned back. "Before or after you made a few more O faces with her?" The way Kerr cocked his head to the side, Vaughn's hands itched to strangle his kid brother.

  "Fuck off."

  "Okey dokey, but I do prefer a little privacy." Kerr grinned, then he sat straight and glared at him. "Holy shit, you really did the nasty first and then broke it off? That's pretty cold, even for a jerk like you."

  Vaughn sucked in air and prayed he wouldn't kill Kerr.

  Odie lifted a hand. "Maybe we should refocus here."

  "Who the hell are you to talk?" Vaughn snapped.

  The Cajun chopped his hand through the air. "Listen closely, boys, and maybe one day you'll have a long, meaningful relationship with a beautiful woman who puts up with your stupidity."

  Garrison grinned. "Like you?"

  He rolled his lips together, the beard and moustache meeting in the middle. "Me? No. I've only known Ruth for a year. A mere blip of time in the grand scheme of the universe, really. But once I figured out that my life meant nothing without her, I pulled my sorry self together in a hurry, before I lost her. You hear me, mon ami?" Damn. The guy went from jovial to dead serious in a millisecond.

  "What you're saying is, don't make mistakes with a woman," Vaughn muttered. "One, that's impossible. Two, a moron could have figured out that advice."

  "Yet here you sit." He sighed. "No, my friend. What I am saying is, when you find the woman who you would die for, the woman who makes you a better person and a hell of a better man,"—resting his thick forearms on the table, Odie propped his hands on the rim of the mug—"if you're smart, then there should be absolutely nothing in the world that prevents you from holding on to her for as long as she will allow you to do so."

  Vaughn winced as the man's words, like an arrow, hit a bull's-eye on his heart.

  "And your credentials in family counseling are from what university?" Kerr raised orange brows.

  Odie shot a tight smile. "My credentials are far more than you'll ever know. Let's just say that I know what it feels like to have someone I love ripped away. I know what it feels like to see someone I love hurt because of my stupid decisions." He pushed away from the table and stood. "You can learn from my mistakes or keep making your own and live with regret for the rest of your life."

  "That's the worst Dear Abby advice I've ever heard." Kerr rolled his eyes.

  "Is it? What will you sacrifice for the person you care about?"

  "I don't—" Kerr sputtered. "There's no one."

  Garrison shook his head and glared. For a split second, he looked like Dad, giving his sons hell. "There'd better not be. Least of all someone with the last name of Brand."

  Odie cut off Kerr's sputtered response. "All that matters is that you don't miss your chance. There aren't a lot of do-overs in this life." His mouth twisted into a grimace, like he had an awful private joke. "And you'll pay dearly for the do-overs you get."

  Vaughn didn't like the sound of that sage advice. "Where are you going?"

  He rubbed his beard. "To personally thank my wife for sticking with an old, dumb Cajun and to beg her to stay with me for years to come."

  "How are you going to do that?" Garrison mumbled.

  "For starters, I'll tell her that I'm sorry."

  Kerr coughed on coffee. "For what?"

  Odie whipped around. "It don' matter, boys. But those two words are a great place to start. I'm sorry softens the ladies right up. Putty in your hands. Primes the pump. You don't even have to give her specifics, just bury what little pride you have left and say it." He cut his eyes to Vaughn. "You should try it before the chance is gone." Turning on his heel, he swaggered out of the kitchen.

  Vaughn tried hard not to make eye contact with his brothers.

  "Damn. I'm a real idiot, huh?" Vaughn moaned.

  Garrison pulled out his phone and raised his hand. "Don't bother me. I need to text Sara and hope to God she'll talk to me again." Head down, he typed as he slowly walked out of the kitchen.

  "You two are one grovel away from losing your man cards," Kerr said. "So, what are you going to do, Vaughn? Crawl back?"

  "She may not talk to me again. I'm not sure what to do."

  "Wait. You don't know? Let me get this straight. You have a smart, beautiful woman who, by some miracle, digs you despite your weird brain stuff, sordid history, and caveman complex. Oh, and you're ugly. And you kicked that awesome package to the curb?"

  "Fuck." He began to sweat.

  "Here you sit, still unable to figure out the right thing to do?"

  "Uh..."

  "Even a blind man can see that was a boneheaded move. What were you thinking?"

  Vaughn tried with two hands to scrub the stupid off his face. "I was thinking it would be good if she didn't get hurt by the insanity going on here."

  "So you hurt her... to keep her from being hurt?" Kerr flipped two thumbs up. "Way to go, Romeo."

  Vaughn shoved to his feet and grabbed his coat. "Fuck if I know what's the best thing to do in this situation. For now, I'm going to do chores until I'm too exhausted to think about stupid crap like feelings. If I'm lucky, I won't reach for something that has 'proof' on the label." He wet his lips. God, how good would a stiff whiskey taste right now? And the numbness to follow would be wonderful.

  "Dude."

  "Don't worry. I'll steer clear of the Wild Turkey. For now. Damn it. Even if I beg for forgiveness, I don't know if I can ask her to step into the mess we've got here. When Mr. Text Apology stops groveling and wants to discuss the monster trying to kill our family, let me know. As much as I want to fix this disaster with Mariah, there's a bigger problem waiting out there."

  Chapter 34

  Damn Vaughn Taggart anyway.

  And damn herself. For a person who gave out advice all day long, she had a hell of a personal blind spot.

  It took all of her energy to focus on each patient in the office today and not make mistakes. But her eyes burned as she tried to read the blurry medical record on the computer. Picking the right doses of medication became dicey. The day dragged along, slower and longer than it ever should.

  It wasn't like she had tons to look forward to after work.

  God, she had been so stupid.

  Which hurt worse: trusting Vaughn and being wrong or trusting herself and being wrong?

  Moot point. He made a choice and it didn't involve her. Then why did it feel like an ice pick had been driven through her chest?

  Get a grip. Do your job. Personal issues needed to wait until after work.

  An urgent add-on showed up on the end of her schedule. Izzy Brand.

  At 5:45 p.m., Mariah knocked and entered the exam room.

  "Hi, Izzy." She forced her upbeat tone.

  The woman stared at the floor. "Hi." Her voice came out flat.

  "What can I do for you today?" Settling on the rolling stool, Mariah rested her hands on crossed legs and waited.

  Izzy shoved her golden blonde hair away from her face. Tears shimmered in her stunning blue eyes, underscored with dark circles. The woman's lower lip trembled. "Do you... um, do you have something I could take so I don't care about my life?"

  Whoa. Mariah leaned forward, medical radar on high alert. "Could you explain that a little more?"

  No words emerged for thirty seconds. Izzy brushed at the tears with the heel of her hand, and Mariah offered a box of Kleenex. "It's like I can't take the stress with my mom, my family, and everything anymore. Life. Right now."

  "Do you feel like you want to harm yourself or someone else?" Oh, God. Was this vibrant, pleasant woman suicidal?

  "No. I wouldn't do anything like that." She sniffed and crumpled a tissue in her hand. "It's that... there's no end in sight. I'm doing most of the work to help Mom. And that's okay. I mean, she's my mom and all. I understand that she's got a difficult medical condition where complications happen. It's not her fault. Then my brother, Hank, disappeared not long after he went off the rails. Now people in town look at me like I'm bad, too. I
can't handle the judgment, especially from people I—"

  "What?"

  "Nothing." She blew her nose. "Now Wyatt and Tommy are bossing me around."

  "Are they threatening you?"

  "No. Not really. Just being mean."

  "Mean, how?"

  "You know how brothers are, right?"

  Mariah nodded, but truly, Kevin had never, ever been mean to her.

  Izzy touched her damp cheek. "Their comments to me are cruel, like why can't I do more to help around the house and why am I so nosy about their business. Good grief. I'm twenty-six years old. Time for my own life, right? But every time I get fed up and think about moving out, the guilt about Mom stops me. My brothers make me feel like, if I leave, Mom'll die." She whispered, "It's like I'm trapped."

  "Trapped?"

  "Sometimes, yes." A grim smile flickered across her face. "No matter what I do, it's the wrong answer. And I don't understand this other thing going on." She leaned forward, elbows on her worn winter pants. "But there's something else happening. At home."

  Mariah tilted her head. "I don't follow."

  "When I go home, everything there feels heavy. Depressing. Dark."

  A strange shiver worked its way down Mariah's arms. "Are you sure that's not maybe your own mood talking?"

  Izzy burst into tears again. "I don't know anymore. I have no idea. Everything I do takes so much effort. It's like every day, I'm waiting for something bad to occur. I can't take it anymore." She sniffed. "You know what I do sometimes? There's a cave near the house. Well, it's about a forty-five-minute walk straight off the back of the house. I even notched some trees to make a path, since I go there so often. Some days, I sit in that cave and dream about living there, alone."

  More internal alarms went off in Mariah's head. Izzy was in real distress. "Have you thought about counseling?

  "What counselor wants to deal with this mess?"

  "That's their job. There are good counselors. They can help."

  "You got a counselor who's a saint? Because that's what it's going to take for someone to dig through this mess." Her laugh edged on hysteria and tears, and she took a shuddering breath. "How about that pill so I won't care about my life right now?"