by McBain, Mara
“All hail our savior,” Cole muttered.
Adrienne smacked him in the back of the head and he stared at her open-mouthed. Trey chuckled into his coffee. The little brunette was fiery.
“Gen is right. He’s just trying to take care of everyone. Maybe you should try helping him instead of trying to scare people.”
Putting a basket of biscuits and a large tureen of sausage gravy on the table, even sweet Gen shot Cole a reproachful look.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” Cole said, rubbing at the back of his head sheepishly. “I honestly meant to say that we’re lucky to live where we don’t have to worry about the uglier side of human nature. Mother nature can be a bitch on her own.”
Adrienne sniffed at him, her eyes still glittering in anger. Cole reached out and caught her hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to be flippant about something I know nothing about. Growing up here I’ve never had to worry about the mob mentality you’re talking about in the city. It’s nothing like that around here. At the worst, it gets boring and everyone goes a little stir crazy.”
She tugged her hand away, turning to help Gen with the last few things. Cole turned to him for help, and Trey gave him a little shrug. The moron had dug his own hole. How many times had his little brother taken perverse pleasure in watching him twist in the wind? Payback was a bitch.
Adrienne leaned against the window frame, partially hidden from view behind the heavy drape. With half the window blocked by drifted snow and a beautiful lace of frost covering the rest, there was little to see in the moonlight. It had let up for a while in the afternoon but, with the setting sun, the wind had started to howl again. Her stomach rolled. Doubt clouded her thoughts and twined around her until it was difficult to breathe. It wasn’t like her to be so indecisive, especially about a man. She’d never been afraid to use her looks and womanly wiles to get her way. She hadn’t met a man yet she couldn’t twist. Why then was she so terrified of this one?
She stole a look at Cole as he stood up to put another log on the fire. His chambray shirt stretched across his expansive shoulders and denim conformed to his powerful thighs as he squatted in front of the fireplace. The dance of the flames flickered over the planes of his handsome face and highlighted the gold in the soft collar-length waves of his hair. Heat spiraled low in her belly. She’d never met a man that effected her the way he did. Biting her lip, she leaned her flushed cheek against the cold glass. Desire thrummed through her just being close to him. She wasn’t used to feeling this out of control. It frightened her.
The deep rumble of Trey’s voice sounded from the office off the living room, and a moment later he and Gen emerged hand-in-hand. Gen met her gaze, tilting her head in silent question as they headed for the kitchen. Adrienne offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile and turned back to the swirling snow. She tensed as warm hands landed on her shoulders. His breath whispered across her ear, drawing a shiver.
“Can we talk?”
Taking a calming breath, she nodded and turned. “I would like that.”
Cole took her hand and led her over to the heavy leather couch. She pulled a pillow into her lap as he sat down next to her. Fingers running over the burgundy striped fabric, she tried to gather her courage and thoughts.
He speared his fingers through his hair, looking as if he too was marshalling the words he wanted, but his opening was simple.
“I’m sorry.” At her silence, he continued. “For scaring you this morning, for pushing things in the barn yesterday, I want to apologize.”
“What happened in the barn was my fault,” she admitted. “I started something I wasn’t prepared to finish at the time and I panicked. I owe you an apology for blowing hot and cold. You don’t deserve that.”
“I’m willing to forgive and forget if you are.”
“Deal,” she said, offering her hand for a firm shake. A nervous laugh slipped free and she hugged the pillow. “That’s a weight off.”
“I’m glad we could finally get an unchaperoned moment to clear the air.”
“I know they mean well, but…”
He chuckled at her grimace and nodded. “When we were in school, Trey championed all the girls. He was their knight in shining armor. It seems you’ve piqued his protective streak despite his grumbles.”
“What about you?”
“I don’t really think it’s a protective streak that you pique in me, though I guess that would be a part of it,” Cole said, humor and heat shining in his blue eyes.
“That’s part of the problem. There are different components to every relationship, along with different expectations,” she whispered, feeling like she was laying her heart on the line “What is the likelihood of finding one person fill all those roles?”
He looked startled by her question. Adrienne held her breath as his beautiful eyes narrowed in speculation. The lights dimmed, breaking their stare down. The radio faltered. Prepared or not, she found herself desperately bartering with God in an attempt to keep the power. She let out her held breath as the lights flared back to full strength. Turning back to Cole, she opened her mouth and everything went dark. Her breath sounded unnaturally loud in the silence without the hum of the furnace or the soft tunes pouring from the radio. Easing closer to Cole, she looked around. The huge fireplace kept the room from plunging into the darkness of the rest of the house. Fear crawled up her spine at the quiet.
“Genevieve?”
“We’re right here, Adri. Everything is okay,” Gen said softly, a beam of light preceding her into the living room with Trey looming on her heels.
Gen held the flashlight while her husband lit the oil lamps, dispelling the shadows from the corners. Cole’s hand covered her wringing fingers in her lap and Adrienne looked down.
“Everything will be fine,” he said, squeezing her hands in reassurance. “The only thing we have to worry about is Trey’s ego swelling out of control because, for once, all of his preparation for gloom and doom is going to come in handy.”
She nudged Cole with her shoulder, but couldn’t hold back a smile at the suffering in his tone. Trey’s smug grin was sure not to help.
“I was making some hot chocolate. I’ll finish it up and bring in some cookies,” Gen said, heading back for the kitchen.
Adrienne rolled her hand over, lacing fingers with Cole for an appreciative squeeze.
“Thank you. I better help Gen.”
He opened his mouth, reluctance clear in his expression, but glanced at his brother and swallowed whatever he’d wanted to say. Patting her hand, he let her go.
Gen looked up from pouring hot chocolate when she came in. “Are you okay?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“You’ve been quiet and pensive all day.”
“Pensive?” Adrienne asked, arching an eyebrow at her friend.
“Yes, pensive. Men are brooding, women are pensive,” she said with a grin as she arranged mugs on a tray.
“I’m fine,” she said, opening another cookie tin to add variety to the platter. “I want to be sure of my decision before I answer Cole, one way or another, and be sure of my reasons. I don’t want to jump at the easy answer on the rebound and have both of us regret it.”
Gen turned; worry lining her face, but she nodded. “You’re right. I hadn’t really thought of it in that context. As much as I want you for my sister, I don’t want either one of you getting hurt.”
“Your brother-in-law is a good man. I don’t blame you for being protective,” Adrienne said, picking up the full platter. “But either way, you will always be my sister.”
Gen blushed a little as she motioned to precede her out of the kitchen. Her words were soft and wistful, but cut right to Adrienne’s heart. “I know, but as selfish as it is, if you marry Cole all the people I love in this world would always be right here together like tonight.”
Her step faltering, Adrienne blinked back tears. She didn’t have a reply
for that, but couldn’t deny that it sounded like heaven.
Get your ass up, boy. The growl of his daddy’s voice jerked Trey from sleep. Jostled from her cocoon, Genevieve protested sleepily. His heart pounded loud in his ears. Only the howl of the wind rivaled it in the quiet house. He sloughed a shaky hand over his face. His father had been gone two years, but his voice had been so clear. Easing his arm free of Gen, he slid out of bed and tucked the covers back around her.
“Are you okay?” she asked, rubbing her nose into his pillow.
“Yeah. Go back to sleep, darlin’. I’m just going to check the fires,” he said, patting her bottom in reassurance.
Yanking on a pair of pants and a thermal shirt, he jogged down the stairs. The hardwood was cold on his bare feet, and he wondered if that was why his daddy’s voice had roused him. He’d insulated the pipes under the house well, but it was always a risk if the temperature dropped too far. The fireplace in the living room still boasted a healthy bed of coals. Sliding the shield aside, he added a couple of logs to get things going. Straightening, he padded into the kitchen. Brute raised his massive head from his cozy spot by the stove; his thick tail thumped a greeting on the floor.
After giving the dog’s ears an affectionate scratch, he stuffed the stove full again. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked around the house. Nothing seemed out of place, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Going to the window, he peered out into the darkness. The wind whipped the snow in driving sheets so even the barn wasn’t visible. Closing his eyes, he let his forehead rest against the window.
He flinched as the wind cried his name. A low growl rumbled from Brute’s chest and he stood up, the fur on his nape standing on end. Frowning, Trey stared at the dog. The big beast trotted to the door and looked back at Trey expectantly.
“It’s just the wind. You don’t want to go out there.”
Brute whined, snuffling around the door. The uneasy feeling persisted and Trey cursed as he pushed off the window frame. Sliding his bare feet into his boots against the swirling snow, he opened the door. Brute brushed past him, bounding over the drift in front of the door to disappear into the white out. Trey hesitated in closing the door. He squinted against the bits that stung his cheeks and strained his ears. Brute barked.
Whirling, Trey grabbed his coat off the hook and stepped out the door. His hand closed around rope that led to the barn.
“Brutus!” he bellowed.
Another bark sounded like it was coming from down the drive. Swallowing hard, he cursed and glanced back at the house. Already, the outline was faint. Following his tracks back to the porch, he followed the wrap-around over-hang to the front door and set off down the drive. A sharp crack split the night air over the howling wind. There was no lightening. That was a gunshot. Trey held his breath, listening. Two more and then, after a pause, a forth shot was fired. His blood ran cold. It couldn’t be. That was the combination his daddy had put in place years ago. A McCade was in trouble.
He stumbled back to the porch, bellowing before he even got through the door.
“Cole!”
His snow covered boots slid on the stairs, and he let his hands fall to the threads in front of him, scrambling up like a kid.
“Cole!”
The master bedroom door flew open and Genevieve stepped out, eyes wide with fear.
“What’s—”
“Cole!” he yelled again, brushing past his wife and almost running Adrienne down when she stuck her head out.
“Jesus, what?” Cole grumbled, rubbing at his eyes as he stumbled into the hall.
Trey stopped dead in his tracks. Cole was safe. Then who the hell was outside? Was he losing his mind? Brute had heard it too.
“Are you okay?”
He looked up at Cole again, his mind racing. He shook his head.
“Daddy’s voice woke me up. I went downstairs, and I swear I heard someone yell my name. Brute heard it too. He insisted on going out. I followed him a little ways and I heard gunshots, a McCade in trouble, one shot, pause, two in succession, pause, and another one.”
“Have you been nipping at the sauce? I’m right here and Daddy’s been dead for two years.”
“I know what I heard.”
“You told me about the signal shots on the ride back after you rescued me from the wild pig,” Gen said, pushing under his arm to snuggle close. “Who else knows about them? What about neighbors or friends?”
Trey frowned and shook his head. His daddy had drilled the signals into their heads from the time they could hold a gun. No one outside the family would-- His head snapped up and he nudged Gen away from him to run for the stairs bellowing again.
“Nate!”
He heard Cole curse and scramble for clothes. Skidding into the kitchen, he methodically grabbed the necessary winter gear. His hands shook as he wrapped a scarf around his neck and pulled his hat over his ears. Checking the beam from the heavy flashlight he spun for the door, nearly bowling Gen over. He caught her upper arms, lifting her off her feet to spare her toes as he stumbled.
“Sorry, darlin’,” he mumbled, setting her aside.
She followed him to the door. “What can I do? You can’t see out there.”
“I’ll be okay. Get a light and stay at the front door to help me find my way back. Tell Cole that Brute went down the drive.”
“Trey, please! Can’t you take a rope like you did for the barn?” she asked, clutching at his arm.
“I don’t have anything of length here at the house, and I’m not taking the time to go to the barn,” he said, brushing her hand away. “Now, do what I told you.”
“Yes, sir.”
He softened at the hurt in her voice and pulled her back for a quick kiss. “I’m sorry. Just get the light and have Adrienne build up the fire and get blankets ready.”
She nodded and pulled free to run to the mudroom for a light. She stopped in the doorway and looked back.
“I love you. Come back to me.”
He nodded grimly and stepped out the door. His earlier footsteps were already blown full. His jaw set and he pulled his hat lower.
“Nate!” he yelled. “Brutus?” He strained his ears, praying for the slightest sound above the screaming wind. He struggled through the drifts. His youngest brother was shorter than he or Cole. Some of the drifts would be nearing chest high on the slighter man. “Nate! Come on, Brute. Where’re you boy?”
Two sharp barks answered and Trey snorted. Typical, the dog listened better than his brothers. Forcing one foot in front of the other, he struggled forward, trying to find his bearings blind. He stumbled, his knee striking something jagged buried under the snow. Cursing through his panting breaths, he groped in the snow. It was the boulder that sat at the edge of the yard. He glanced toward the house. He couldn’t even make out the roofline. He took a deep breath and turned back toward the drive.
“Brute! Nate!”
“Trey.”
The call was weak, but it was there. He wasn’t crazy. Trey’s heart pounded as he pushed through the snow. “Keep talking, Nate. I’m coming.”
“I’m tired.”
“Pansy ass,” Trey panted. “Just keep talking.” He ground his teeth as he pushed on. The voice was so quiet. Where the hell was he? Mama would never forgive him if he let something happen to the baby. Squinting against the gusting wind and snow, he prayed. What would Daddy do? How was he supposed to find him in this shit?
Nate let out a startled cry and Trey broke into an awkward lope, fear making his heart skip a beat.
“Nate!”
“Call your crazy dog off! Let go, mutt.”
Stopping, Trey let his hands rest on his hips, sucking in air. He chuckled at the helpless absurdity. He was running blind. “That dog’s smarter than you and I are. Come on, Brute. Bring him to me,” he said.
“Hey!”
“Relax and let him drag you,” Trey ordered and whistled sharply. “Come on, Brutus.”
&nbs
p; He turned at a shout behind him. His flashlight’s sweep highlighted only flying snow. Cole bellowed again, his worry carrying in his voice.
“Go back! I’ve got this,” Trey yelled, praying he was right. “How’re you doing, Nate?”
“Cold. Damn co-cold.”
They sounded closer. “Good boy. Come on, Brute,” Trey said, urging the massive dog on.
Swinging the flashlight in front of him, he searched its limited beam. He fell as something hit the back of his leg, buckling his knee. Rolling over, he tried to sit up and was pushed back into the snow as Brute landed on his chest, nuzzling worriedly at his face. Trey hugged the big beast.
“I’m all right, buddy. Good boy,” he crooned, ruffling the dog’s ears.
“Me or the dog?” Nate asked, sounding sleepy.
Pushing Brute off him, Trey crawled to his brother. “I was talking to the dog. You’re a dumbass.”
“Can we talk about that in the house?” Nate mumbled, sounding as if his tongue were thick.
Swallowing his worry and anger, Trey whipped off his scarf and turned to the dog. Tying it around Brute’s neck to fashion a leash, he awkwardly hoisted Nate over his shoulder and stood up.
“Porch!” he ordered.
Brute spun and started to bound through the snow. He came up short as soon as the scarf tightened and came back to Trey’s feet.
“What’re you doing?”
“Shut up. I’m trying to save our asses,” he snapped and looked back down at the dog, rubbing his broad head. “I know it’s confusing, buddy, but I need you to lead us back to the house. Come on. Porch!”
It took several starts and stops but the dog finally got the hang of it. Trey stumbled in his wake, trusting blindly in the animal’s senses. The added weight made the trek more difficult and Trey’s legs were getting numb. He stumbled, coming down on one knee. Brutus circled back, whining and nuzzling his face. Pushing to his feet, he patted the dog’s head.
