Branded

by Laura Wright

  “I don’t know about that.”

  God, he wanted to kiss her. Wanted to feel her lips against his, hear her soft moans. He wanted to lift her up and sit her on his lap, then slide his hands underneath her. Maybe she’d wrap her legs around his waist like she had last night, and her arms around his neck, and they’d taste each other, breathe each other’s air, and forget about the past . . .

  . . . and the future.

  But then clouds moved in and the air felt cold.

  “You know, losing Cass took a toll on everybody, Deacon,” Mac said.

  And Deacon no longer felt like the playful, carefree cowboy he’d been a second ago. He nodded. “’Course it did, Mac.”

  “But you’re the only one who wants to end this place over it.”

  He stared at her for a full ten seconds before responding. “Understand me, darlin’.” His tone nearly stripped the sunshine from the sky it was so dark. “The destruction of the Triple C happened long ago. Not because of Cass’s murder, but because of what happened afterward.”

  She froze. “What?”

  He shook his head. Damn his mouth.

  “What are you talking about? What happened afterward?” she said, her eyes pinned to his. She sat on her feet and faced him. “Are you talking about how the police couldn’t find that ‘Sweet’ guy Cass had told me about? How they closed the case?”

  He remained tight-lipped. What was he doing? Why was he even here with her? Fixing fences, having picnics, dredging up the past?

  “Deacon, please,” she nearly begged. “I know you’re holding back something. I know there’s more to this—all of this—everything you’ve done in the past six years—than just you wanting to destroy memories of Cass.”

  “You don’t know anything about me, Mac,” he ground out. “And one night of hot necking in your room isn’t going to change that.”

  She flinched at the harshness of his words. “Wow. Okay. Well, you’re right about that.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “But don’t I at least have the right to know why you’re taking this place away from me, and everyone else who calls it home and a living?”

  Deacon stared at her, feeling like the worst of bastards. This was so fucked up. This whole thing. Coming here, staying here, going to her room last night and letting things get out of hand. He could not afford to care about her feelings, her wants or her needs. At least not more than his own.

  “Hey there!” came a not so friendly call from behind them.

  On a soft gasp, Mackenzie turned. Deacon followed, and promptly frowned. Blue stood on the rise, hat tipped back, his horse grazing a few yards back.

  How long had he been standing there? Deacon wondered. And had he heard any part of their conversation?

  The cowboy headed down the incline, then straight toward them, stopping just a few feet away. His eyes went to Mackenzie first, then cut sharply to Deacon.

  “Your employee’s here,” he said. “He’s up at the house ready to swab the inside of my cheek.” He arched a brow. “I figured you’d want to witness this less-than-blessed event.”

  Deacon stared at him. “I do.”

  Once again, Blue’s eyes went to Mackenzie. “Then let’s go.”

  • • •

  Mac paced the rough wood floor of the kitchen. She’d refused to sit on the hard living room couch with James, Cole, and Elena and watch as Blue got tested for Cavanaugh DNA. But she couldn’t hang out in her room or go back to work either. Nerves ran up her spine and made her neck feel stiff. After what had happened the night before, and then today at the lake, she felt unbelievably confused. Deacon Cavanaugh wanted to destroy everything she loved, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from wanting him. Maybe it was because she saw the good inside him, the desire to connect with her, with his brothers, and with the ranch again—the desire he tried to mask or tamp down or pretend wasn’t there. Whatever it was, she was convinced he was hiding something important, and she wanted desperately to know what it was.

  “Baking me some cookies, foreman?”

  She glanced up, spotted Blue in the kitchen doorway and gave him a nod. “Absolutely. You’ll find their small, round, and very burned carcasses in the trash. Help yourself.”

  He laughed. “We’re just waiting on the results now.” He walked in, dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. “Well, they’re waiting,” he clarified.

  “Damn, Blue,” she began, shaking her head. “What if you are . . . ?”

  “If I am, I am.”

  “That answer sucks.”

  “I know.” He shrugged. “But right now, it’s the only one I got.”

  “Have you talked to your mom yet?”

  His eyes grew stormy and he shook his head.

  Mac released a breath and leaned back against the counter. “You need to, Blue.”

  “We all have things we need to do, Mac.” He cocked his head to one side, seemingly to see her from a different angle. “Like driving cattle, seeing the ocean, learning where we come from, trying foie gras”—his eyes shuttered—“and coming clean about our interest in people we shouldn’t be interested in.”

  Her brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t act like you don’t know where I’m going and why.” He fixed her with a harsh stare. “What the hell were you doing with Deacon Cavanaugh today?”

  Anxiety rushed up from her toes and kept going until it settled real heavy and annoying-like inside her skull. She shrugged as casually as she could manage. “Fixing fences, having lunch.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “That it?”

  “’Course.”

  “Come on, Mac,” he said on a forced laugh. “I mean, it’s been a while since I met a girl who made my insides explode.” He grinned. “Who made me look at her like I wanted to lick every inch of her skin lollipop-style—”

  “Jesus, Blue!”

  He laughed again. “But I know what it looks like. And Mr. Billionaire Cavanaugh had that look all over his face, in his eyes, and in that growl he fixed on me when I interrupted things down at the lake.”

  “You didn’t interrupt things.”

  He pushed his chair back and stood up. “Why are you denying this?”

  She didn’t know. Maybe because she wanted to pretend it wasn’t there. Maybe because whatever it was that Deacon felt where she was concerned was going to be short-lived and painful. If she kept pursuing it, that is.

  “He wants you,” Blue said flatly.

  “No.” She said the word like it actually meant something, like it could combat the truth, maybe even the desire raging in her heart. “That’s just him. He’s a player.”

  “Well, I’ve no doubt about that. I’m just telling you to be careful. He wants you and he wants the Triple C. Now, depending on what this test says, his destruction of the one may turn out to be none of my business.” His eyes darkened. “But the other . . . I’ll bury him if he tries.”

  Before Mac could say another word, she heard a commotion out in the hallway. She expected several people to walk through the door, but the only person who did was the very one she unfortunately ached to see. The one Blue had just basically threatened to knock out if he hurt her.

  Gone was his Stetson, leaving his thick black hair molded slightly to his head. His tan skin was dirty, his boots, jeans, and T-shirt, too. His black eyes were as cold as a snake’s, but even so he fairly radiated heat.

  Mac had never seen anything so sexy in her life. And yet as he came to stand in front of Blue, his jaw set and his imperious attitude turned up to high, she wished he’d never come back home at all.

  He avoided her gaze and trained it solely on Blue. “How much?”

  “How much for what?” Blue asked.

  “For your share in the Cavanaugh Cattle Company.”

  Mac’s heart dropped into her belly, and she felt simultaneously furious at both Deacon and Everett. One for making this into a grand and ugly display, and the other for cheating on his family and lyin
g to all of them about it.

  “So it’s true,” Blue said, his tone as even as Deacon’s.

  “DNA doesn’t lie,” Deacon replied.

  Blue glanced over at Mac, then shook his head. “This is unbelievable.”

  She went to him at once, grabbed his hand and stood by his side.

  Deacon’s jaw tightened, but his gaze remained on Blue. “I’ll give you five million right now.”

  Mac gasped, instant anger firing her blood. “He’s not selling.”

  “Mac—” Blue began, but she cut him off quick.

  “Stop it, Deacon.”

  “Not your business, Mackenzie.” Though Deacon spoke to her, his eyes never left Blue. “You can do a lot with five million dollars, Mr. Perez.”

  “Don’t call him that,” Mac warned.

  “Start your own ranch,” Deacon continued. “Your own life.”

  Mac felt as if her heart would explode inside her chest. “You’re being a manipulative jackass—you know that?”

  Blue’s eyes cut her way again. “Actually, he’s being the most honest one here.”

  Mac glared at him, shocked. “What?”

  “He’s the only one who has his cards on the table, open and honest, about what he plans to do.”

  She released his hand. “He wants to bulldoze this fucking ranch, Blue!” She knew she sounded out of control, but she didn’t care.

  “I don’t know if I blame him, Mac.”

  She stared at him, disbelieving, then uttered, “Oh my God.” She turned and caught sight of Elena coming into the kitchen.

  The woman stopped dead when she saw them.

  Blue saw her, too, and he sniffed. “See, lies and betrayal have a way of souring your feelings about a place, Mac.”

  Elena blanched, and Mac considered knocking him upside the head for purposely baiting her. He was angry at her. Had a right to be. But he wasn’t going to be cruel. She wouldn’t allow it.

  “You wouldn’t understand that, Mac,” Blue continued. “But I believe my brother here does.”

  Deacon’s eyes lit with the fire of impending triumph. “That a yes, Mr. Cavanaugh?”

  “Naw. You were right before,” Blue said. “It’s Perez. But I’m going to have to think about it.”

  The answer clearly displeased Deacon, and his nostrils flared with impatience. Mac knew he probably wasn’t used to hearing no from anyone.

  “Offer’s good for twenty-four hours,” Deacon said tightly. “Then it’s off the table.”

  “Look,” Blue said in a cold yet calm voice. “I took your test because I wanted to know for certain and because I’m not a complete jackass. But I won’t be pushed into making the decision of a lifetime. Twenty-four hours ain’t gonna do it.”

  Something close to respect flickered in Deacon’s sharp green eyes, and after a moment, he nodded. “All right.”

  Blue looked surprised. “All right?”

  Deacon shrugged. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a complete jackass either,” he said, his gaze shifting momentarily to Mac and then back again. “But I won’t wait longer than a week.”

  Blue nodded and then stuck out his hand. “Fair enough.”

  As they shook hands, Mac watched, knowing that if she allowed it, if she didn’t fight it, these two men had the power to dictate not only her future—but the future of everyone who counted on and loved the Triple C.

  So fight it, she would.

  Nine

  “And you didn’t invite him? To our Cavanaugh brothers’ happy hour?”

  Beer in hand, Deacon tossed his little brother a wry grin. “I would’ve, Cole, but when I offered, he tossed the Cavanaugh name right back in my face.”

  “Shit, can you blame him?” James said, his gaze moving around the bar.

  Celebrating its fifth anniversary, the Bull’s Eye was a pretty recent addition to downtown River Black. And obviously a welcome one, Deacon mused, if the lively Wednesday-night crowd was any indication.

  After the revelation that Blue was indeed their brother, Deacon, James, and Cole had all decided to meet up, have a few beers, some food, and, if Deacon could manage it, another opportunity to discuss selling off their shares of the ranch to him.

  “He found out his mother’s lied to him all these years, and Everett, too,” James continued, his grip easy around the neck of his beer. “I hear they were pretty close.”

  Deacon’s head came up. “Who told you that?”

  James’s gaze shuttered, and he looked away, inhaled sharply. “Think it was Sam.”

  Deacon snorted. “That old man talks too much.”

  “You think he’s lying?” Cole asked, then drained the rest of his beer.

  “No,” Deacon said, reaching for a hot wing. “I’m sure they were as close as father and son. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Blue had suspected something.”

  “Well, he was the son none of us were—that’s for sure,” Cole said with a bitter edge to his voice. “Stuck around. Worked Daddy’s land.”

  “Our land now,” Deacon said.

  “That’s right. The four of us.” James’s gaze locked with his, and the stubborn coolness behind his eyes concerned Deacon.

  But he only nodded. He didn’t see any reason to tell his brothers about his offer to Blue. Not yet. Not until he had a firm answer.

  As if reading his mind, Cole turned to him and asked, “So, did Blue give any clue as to what he wants for the ranch? What he plans to do with his share?”

  “Come on, Cole,” James said just as someone switched on the jukebox and an old Whitesnake song filled the bar. “He’s going to want to stay. He lives here. His mama lives here. His work is here.”

  “And Mackenzie’s here,” Cole added.

  Deacon felt a rumble in his chest at the mention of her name and tore into the hot wing with supreme relish.

  “Well, can’t believe I’m saying it,” James began. “Especially about Mac. But damn, that woman could keep a man locked into this place. Forget about the money; she’s turned into every cowboy’s dream.”

  Deacon tossed the small chicken bones onto his plate, his expression as tight as his gut now. “Blue isn’t interested in Mackenzie.” Not if he wants to keep that nice white smile intact. “They’re friends.”

  Cole snorted. “Sure they are.”

  “I wish I could find a friend like that,” James said. “Loyal, beautiful, fearless. Women like that don’t grow on trees.” He grinned. “I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell.”

  “Okay, you’re cut off, Shakespeare,” Deacon said, grabbing another beer and pointing the bottle’s neck at the man’s face. “That dark ale’s going to your brain.”

  “I kind of like that one,” Cole said, ignoring Deacon. “Sexy. And damn apropos. What’s it from, J?”

  “A little play called A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  Cole turned to Deacon and grinned wide, looking like a young randy boy, despite the near military haircut and all the tats. “What’d I say? It’s summer. Night’s coming on. Dream girl. Apropos.” He dropped his chin and clarified. “I’m not talking about Mac, y’all. We clear? She’s great and pretty and everything, but she’s family.”

  “She’s not family,” Deacon said tightly and emphatically.

  A dark-haired woman dressed in black jeans and a white tank top bumped into their table, sending an empty beer bottle flying onto the floor. She was short, curvy, had a real pretty face and a smile that could melt the polar ice caps. And she had all three men up and out of their seats to help her.

  But Cole got to her first. Turning on the smooth Texas charm he was so famous for—and that brought nearly more women than men to his fights—he gripped her forearm, steadying her. “You all right, darlin’?”

  “Oh, shoot,” she said, laughing softly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s no problem, sweetheart,” he drawled. “Let me help you out there.”

  “Thank you.” She laughed again. “I’m fine. It’s just these s
hoes.” She gestured to the three-inch black leather heels she was wearing. “It’s my first night trying them out.”

  “Well, careful as you go,” Cole said. “We don’t want any accidents tonight, nothing bad happening to a pretty thing like you.”

  Her pale green eyes brushed past both Deacon and James before she gave them all one final smile before turning and walking away.

  “I could go after her,” Cole nearly growled as they all sat back down. He grinned wickedly. “Make sure she doesn’t stumble into someone else’s table. Let her know my hands and I are available at all hours to assist her.”

  Then suddenly his grin died, and he glanced back over his shoulder, following the woman’s movement. “Hey,” he said, the easy Texas charm draining out of his voice. “Wasn’t that the woman I saw you with this morning, James?” Cole turned around and looked at his brother. “At the diner?” he pressed.

  “No,” James answered simply. “I wasn’t at the diner this morning.”

  “What are you talking about, man?” Cole returned, the full beer he’d just grabbed completely forgotten. “I saw you.”

  James shook his head. “Wasn’t me.”

  Cole turned and glanced over at Deacon with an expression that screamed, He’s fucking lying right now.

  Deacon turned back to James and studied his expression. Unreadable, cool, impassive. Typical James. Deacon didn’t know what was going on with his brother, if he knew that woman or not, but James had always kept his thoughts and his actions to himself, unless he felt like sharing. Pushing or threatening hadn’t worked back when they were kids, and it wasn’t going to work now.

  He gave Cole a little shrug. “The man says he wasn’t at the diner.”

  Cole looked from brother to brother, his black eyes flashing with irritation. “Fine,” he spat out. “I must’ve been in an endorphin haze or something.”

  “Or something,” James added, his mouth curving into a smile as the cloud that had covered his eyes a second ago lifted.

  Cole flipped him the bird, then switched back into bar-night mode. “All right, cow patties, I say we forget about why we’re in this town, the new addition to the family, and what lies ahead, and invite a few of these hometown fillies to our table and see what happens.”