by Sabrina York
“I had things I wanted to say to you. Things I needed to tell you.” Heavens. Judging from the darkness in his expression, he didn’t think she would appreciate what he had to say.
“So tell me.”
“I’d rather do it face-to-face . . . And preferably when you’re not half naked.”
She laughed and tugged the blanket tighter. “I’m not half naked.”
“You might as well be. And God help me, as much as I woke up with a powerful need for you, taking you in the front seat of Cody’s truck is not what I have in mind. Can we sit down for a cup of coffee when we get back? Somewhere more private than the dining hall?”
“Sure.”
Her heart fluttered. She wondered what he wanted to tell her. What could be so sensitive it needed to be shared face-to-face with someone fully clothed—in private? Most likely he wanted to come clean about knowing her in high school. She should just mention it here and now. But she didn’t want to miss out on more time with him.
Besides, that would probably be their last conversation.
Because she would not be able to see him again. Certainly not after she was Zack’s wife.
No matter her morals in this, her last fling, she would not be unfaithful once she had made a vow before God . . . and everyone in Snake Gully.
If Zack didn’t toss her aside, of course.
Somewhere deep inside, she knew that little flutter was hope.
But it was silly. So she squashed it.
Logan pulled into the driveway of the ranch house and parked next to another pickup. “Go on in,” he said, without meeting her eyes. As though, if he dared to glance her way, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from taking her. On the front seat of Cody’s truck. “Get dressed and I’ll clean up a little and we’ll have that talk.”
She nodded and slipped out, wrapping the blanket around her as she made her way over the uneven ground and into the house.
Thank God the front door was unlocked. She couldn’t imagine how humiliating it would be to have to pound for admittance wearing her nightgown and a flimsy blanket. She pushed through and closed it behind her and headed for the stairs.
“Hanna!” A sharp male voice froze her in her tracks. She turned to see her fiancé, his cheeks beet red, standing in the doorway to Cody’s front room. He was tall and handsome with an almost pretty face, though at the moment, it was twisted in anger. His sun-streaked blond hair stood up in spikes. His eyes went wide as he took in her dishevelment. His fingers opened and closed in tight fists.
“Zack . . .”
“Just where have you been?” he snapped.
Hanna opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Zack deserved an explanation . . . but not like this. And not in front of Tibby, who stood behind her brother, peering over his shoulder with a smirk on her face. Hanna’s gaze flicked past her and she stilled as she saw the front end of Cody’s red truck parked in the driveway. Her heart lurched.
The front room looked out onto the lawn.
No doubt both Zack and Tibby had witnessed her ignominious return.
His gaze raked over her and his nostrils flared. “What the hell are you wearing?” His tone was soft, but there was a thread of fury in it.
Mortification snarled through her as she remembered she was standing in the foyer dressed in her nightgown and wrapped in a blanket.
Tibby snickered.
Without a word, she turned and flew up the stairs.
***
Hanna ran into her room and yanked on a pair of jeans and a shirt, not bothering with her bra because she knew, she just knew, Zack was pounding up the stairs after her. Indeed, just as she pulled her blouse on, he slammed into the room.
Though she was more than a little embarrassed, and perhaps a little frightened, she faced him.
His flawless face was splotched. His features tight. His fists tighter. He glared at her with a ferocity that, had it been physical, would have thrown her across the room. Of a sudden, Hanna was reminded of Sidney’s earlier admonition that one didn’t know a man until one had seen him angry.
Well, Zack was angry now.
She could hardly blame him.
“What the hell is going on?” he snarled.
“Why are you here, Zack?” she asked, in an attempt to deflect his fury, or at least the question. She had no intention of answering that question. Not here. Not now.
“Why am I here?” He gaped at her. He appeared lost for words. “Because my sister texted me that I’d better come and collect my wayward fiancée, that’s why. I didn’t believe her, of course. Who would? You of all people.”
She disliked the way his lip curled at that last bit.
“Zack . . .”
“Shut up. Just shut up and get your things. We’re leaving.”
“The party is not over.”
“Oh, it’s over. In fact, forget your things. Your sister can bring them home. Come on.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door. His fingers bit into her. She tried to wrench away, but couldn’t.
He towed her forcibly down the hall. A door opened as they reached the top landing and Cody stepped out. He wore only a pair of sweats and his hair was sleep-tousled. He yawned. “What’s all the ruckus?” he asked, and then he saw Zack. He paled. “Hey . . . Zack. What’s up?”
“Fuck you,” Zack snarled as he pushed past, heading down the stairs. Hanna had to focus to keep up; she nearly tripped on the stairs several times.
“Wait!” Cody thundered down the stairs behind them. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Zack reached the bottom and rounded on Cody, roaring, “What do you think I’m doing? I’m taking my fiancée home.”
Cody grinned, though Hanna could see the tension in the lines of his face. “But the party’s not over.”
“It is for her,” Zack growled.
He whipped around and hauled her past a smirking Tibby and out the front door. Hanna danced over the stones in the drive that gouged her bare feet as he herded her to his truck. As he unlocked the door, a movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.
Logan, running from the barn.
Her heart leaped.
He looked wonderful in his chambray shirt and rough jeans. His hair was still wet from a quick splash. She wanted to go to him, run to him, wrap herself in his arms.
But she couldn’t.
“Get in the truck, Hanna.”
She frowned at Zack, her fiancé. Soon he would have the right to order her around.
But not yet.
She took a step toward Logan. Just to explain. Just to say good-bye.
Zack bristled. His hold on her tightened. “Get in the truck, Hanna. We’re leaving.”
“Hanna, don’t get in the truck,” Logan called. As he came even with Cody, his friend, sensing the danger, caught him by the arm. Logan wrenched free, but Cody grabbed him again and held him back, murmuring in his ear.
Logan’s expression was fierce, every muscle straining to free himself from his friend’s hold.
Time seemed to slow down. Everything in Hanna screamed that she go to Logan. Run. Her muscles bunched to do just that.
“Get in the truck, Hanna, or I swear, by all that is holy, I’ll kill him.” Zack’s low hiss sent a cold shiver down her spine. She looked at him, took in his hard fury. She knew he had a right to be angry. And beyond that, she knew, with chilling realization, if she didn’t obey him now, he would hurt Logan—and possibly worse.
She couldn’t bear that. She couldn’t bear Logan being hurt because of her.
She had to go with Zack. She knew she did.
She shot one last lingering glance at Logan, and then got into the truck. If she didn’t go, and go now, this would only get worse. Get nastier. Get violent. And Logan might pay the price for her folly.
/> Besides that, she owed Zack an explanation. She needed to get him away from this volatile situation so they could speak peacefully.
He came around the front of the truck, glowering at the assemblage, and then hopped in the driver’s side, gunned the engine, and spun around in a shower of gravel.
In the rearview mirror, Hanna saw her sister burst from the ranch house and run after them, but her progress slowed as the rough gravel bit into her bare feet. Cody and Logan stood in the yard, face-to-face, yelling, Logan still struggling to break free. He hauled off and slugged Cody, who responded with a punch to the gut that had Logan doubling over and falling to his knees.
And that was the last glimpse she got of him, her wonderful, adorable two-night stand. Logan on his knees, watching her leave with an anguished look on his face.
***
“Damn it, Logan. I’m sorry for punching you.” Cody dragged his fingers through his hair. “But Zack was furious. He would have killed you.”
Anguish twisted Logan’s bowels. He’d gotten a look at Zack’s face. He knew the bastard was furious. And yeah, no doubt he would have tried to kill Logan. He’d tried to before and he’d failed. He would have failed again this time. “And what about Hanna?” Logan spat. “What about her? You let him take her.”
“He’s her fiancé. He won’t hurt her.”
“Won’t he?” Panic clouded his vision. He knew Zack Pucey. They all did. While Cody didn’t know what he had tried to do once in high school, Logan did.
Hanna was in danger.
He had to get to her.
“Give me your keys.” While he’d been down on the ground, Cody had snatched them from him.
“No.”
“Give me your goddamn keys!”
Cody frowned at him. “We’ll go together. Wait while I get dressed.”
“Damn it, move! They’re getting away.”
“We know where they’re going, Logan. Calm down.” Still, Cody sprinted up the stairs into the house and returned moments later with his jeans on and his boots in his hands.
When they climbed into the truck, Sidney, dressed in her yoga pants and a cami, hopped into the backseat. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Cody roared.
“She’s my sister,” Sidney snapped. “I’m going too.”
And because he didn’t want to waste any more time arguing, Logan started the truck.
They flew down the gravel track and onto the highway, heading for Hanna’s home. It was only thirty miles, but it seemed to take forever, even though he sped like a wild man.
His gut clenched when they arrived to find she wasn’t there. No one was.
“Damn it. He must have taken her to his place,” Cody growled. They roared back onto the highway and headed for town, only slowing when they hit the city limits, because the last thing Logan wanted right now was to get pulled over by the sheriff.
He’d had enough of small-town sheriffs to last a lifetime.
It was agony driving through the deserted streets of Snake Gully, passing the old five-and-dime and the FoodWay and the feed store and the diner where he’d had his first job. There were cars in the parking lot of the church. On Sunday morning, that was where most of the town would be.
It was all so familiar . . . and yet not.
He hadn’t been back since that horrible night.
He’d vowed never to return. Nothing could have enticed him to. Nothing but Hanna.
He pulled into the driveway of the big house, the one at the far end of town, the one he’d always hated, festooned with fancy curlicues and painted a brash white. It looked less imposing than he remembered.
Though there was no truck in the driveway, he stalked up to the door with Cody at his side, and pounded.
But when the housekeeper answered the door, she insisted neither Hanna nor Zack were there.
They drove all over town, scoured the countryside for the better part of the day, and never found them.
Logan’s gut was in a knot. He knew she was in danger . . . again. And this time, he wouldn’t be there to save her.
Chapter Thirteen
Zack was silent as they sped down the country road to the highway. He took the turn too sharply and Hanna was flung against the passenger door. “Please slow down, Zack.”
“Shut up.”
“Zack . . .”
“Just shut up.” He pressed down hard on the accelerator and the truck surged forward. Hanna decided to do as he said and hold her tongue, lest he, in his fury, kill them both. But when they passed the turnoff for her home and he didn’t take it, she couldn’t remain silent.
“Zack, where are we going?”
He glared at her.
“I want to go home.”
“I don’t give a shit what you want, Hanna.”
“Look. Zack. I’m sorry about . . . well, about what happened. I understand if you want to end our engagement.”
He laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Oh no, honey. It ain’t that easy. You’re still marrying me. The only difference is, we ain’t waiting for the honeymoon.”
Something cold curled in her belly.
“What-what do you mean?”
He turned on a small dirt road. He didn’t slow his speed, so they hit all the ruts and she bounced around like a Mexican jumping bean. He turned onto another road, one even narrower than the last, and screeched to a stop amid a thick stand of trees.
He switched off the truck and turned to her.
The look in his eye made her mouth go dry.
“I mean, we ain’t gonna wait. I swear to God, Hanna. For seven years I’ve wanted you. For seven years I’ve treated you like a fucking princess. Convinced that you were too all high-and-mighty pure for a man like me. To discover you’ve been whoring around with someone like Logan Landry . . .” Zack snorted. His eyes blazed with a frightening fervor. His menace enveloped her like a cloud. “I knew I should have killed him that night,” he spat.
Hanna’s pulse lurched. “What night? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play games with me, missy. Do you think I don’t remember?” He scooted across the bench seat. She backed up against the door, but there was no escape from his hot breath and he loomed nearer.
Oh, she’d made an error coming with him today. There was no doubt about that. Now all she could do was try to escape.
She reached for the door handle. He grabbed her wrist in a tight hold, so tight it hurt. She tried to break free, but would sooner break her wrist.
She knew this look in his eyes. She’d seen it before. That night . . .
A long submerged memory bobbed to the surface, blurry and disjointed, but the gist of it was clear and her blood went cold.
God. That night.
That night behind the school after the spring dance when he’d told her he had something to show her. When he’d led her under the bleachers and then tried to—
She couldn’t think of it. She couldn’t. The fear would paralyze her.
She stiffened her spine, and searched her memory, trying to recall what she’d learned in the self-defense courses she’d taken.
“Don’t . . . don’t remember what?” she asked, hoping to distract him with conversation, hoping to find an opening for escape.
“Right . . .” He reached over her shoulder and locked the door—though it was hardly necessary. He took her chin in his hand, a savage grip, and forced her to look at him. There would be a bruise tomorrow, no doubt. “Tell me you don’t remember that it was Logan Landry who interfered that night after the dance . . .”
Hanna froze. The memory came wafting back, in tiny, disjointed ribbons.
Zack had been drunk, although she hadn’t realized how drunk until he had pinned her against the wooden wall beneath the bleachers. Until he’d grabbed her breasts in a painful grasp
and shoved his hand up her skirt. Shock and revulsion had stunned her senses, slowed her defensive responses.
Get away from her, a voice had warbled. Not a man’s voice. Not Logan’s voice, certainly. And then, when Zack merely snarled a response, someone had ripped him off her. The sound of flesh thudding against flesh echoed, and Zack had fallen, clenching his gut and vomiting. Are you all right? An echo. A dream. Are you all right?
Oh. God. It had been. It had been Logan . . .
Her heart stuttered. She looked up at Zack. His features were a twisted mask. “Yeah. I see you remember now. He panted after you like a pup all through high school. If he hadn’t left town after that night, I would have killed him.”
“I didn’t know. I didn’t realize.”
He loomed closer. Her hand on his chest had no effect. He pulled it away and twisted it painfully. She cried out, but he ignored her. “And you fucked him. You fucked him. Gave him what I’ve been waiting so goddamn patiently for.” His breath was sour, his words wrapped in spittle. “Well, now I’m done waiting.”
And then he took hold of her blouse, and ripped.
Horror skewered her as the fabric gave way in a shower of buttons and her unfettered breasts fell out. How she wished she’d taken the time to put on her bra. It would have given her just a little more armor. He, likely, would have barreled through that as well.
As it was, his eyes glazed over, his jaw went slack. He grasped her breasts in both hands and squeezed. Then he took her nipples into his mouth and sucked.
Her gorge rose, and with it, panic, because his fingers fumbled for the snap of her jeans.
Everything in her rebelled.
No, her soul screamed. No. No. No.
He shifted his position to get a better hold on her, draping one leg over her thigh, and she saw her opportunity. God help her if this move didn’t work. He was too close, and nearly on top of her. Most of the moves she’d learned in that long-ago self-defense class wouldn’t work this close, but, hopefully, this one would.
He rose up a fraction as he fiddled with the snap on his jeans and she took her shot, angling her leg back and then slamming it, with all her might, into his crotch.
