“Honey, there’s still business to do,” Aiken said, his voice steady and commanding. “Don’t want the boys restless, do we now?”
“You’ll be okay here,” she said to me, though I didn’t think she believed it any more than I did. She stood, and a moment later she led the burly man into the tent. I clenched my eyes against the sight.
Someone touched my shoulder and I jumped, opening my eyes again. Sawyer squatted down in front of me. His fingers were gentle as he tipped my chin and stared at my face. My cheek throbbed, and my eye was swelling shut.
“You’re going to have a shiner,” he said. But his voice was not steady, and I sensed that the sight of my battered face upset him more than he’d like to admit.
“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for helping me.”
He nodded once and stood. I looked up the long length of him, and though just yesterday I’d tried to plunge my knife into him, right then I wanted nothing more than to be in his arms. As contrary as I was to think it, I wanted him to shelter me from this barbaric world that had somehow become mine. I watched the swirling colors in his eyes as he listened to my thoughts. It seemed he might reach for me, answer my silent request, but Aiken chose that moment to approach.
“Captain,” Aiken said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Lucky for us you showed up. A mob’s an ugly thing. There was no backing them down.”
He stared at me when he said it, and I recognized the threat in his eyes. I looked to Sawyer who was nodding. He believed Aiken.
“You pushed them to it,” I said fiercely, locking eyes with Sawyer. “He encouraged them, told them they’d have to fight me to get me to surrender.”
“Fight both of us,” Aiken said, laughing loudly. The sound filled the camp, and I remembered that I had thought him pleasant when I’d first met him.
“She’s understandably rattled by what happened, Sawyer. She’s confused. I never would have done such—”
At that moment, six men on horseback rode in at a gallop, stopping Aiken midsentence. They pushed through the small crowd of miners without care of who might be in their way. One man jumped just in time to avoid being trampled.
“Is this a party?” one of the riders asked. “Thought I heard a gun, but it sure looks like a party to me. I don’t recall getting my invite, though.”
I recognized the voice and turned my head to gaze at him full-on.
“I said, is this a party?” Lonnie Smith repeated. He had his gun in his hand, and the dried blood of my family still smeared on his clothes.
CHAPTER 15
Gracie was shaking when she walked out of the kitchen, her emotions so twisted that it hurt to breathe. So many nights she’d cried herself to sleep. She’d raised their daughter, unable to answer the simple question, Who is my father? because she’d known it would be followed by Why doesn’t he want us? and the pain of not having an answer that would satisfy either one of them.
Well, now she knew the truth, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
Chloe and Jonathan still sat at one of the round tables, but it looked like the card game had ended. Bill stood behind the bar with grocery sacks stacked in front of him. She glanced at the bags before meeting his eyes.
“It looks like we might be stranded here for a while,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t want to disturb you when I put them away.”
“Thank you,” she said, blushing. Wondering how much of her conversation had been overhead by the ever-inquisitive Chloe.
The swinging door opened with a little more force than necessary and Reilly came out. He didn’t even look at Gracie as he crossed to the stairs and took them up. He was angry. Gracie realized so was she. Angry at him for circumstances he couldn’t control. Angry at him for not doing a better job controlling the ones he might have.
Most of all, she was angry at herself for feeling all the mixed-up—messed-up—longing that made it impossible to pretend that anything else mattered.
She took a deep, shuttering breath. A logical side of her said Reilly truly had made the right decision all those years ago. Matt was more than a bad seed; he was the whole damn orchard. He wore his hostility on the outside, a snapping turtle with an impregnable shell.
He’d started watching her when she was thirteen. She remembered the unsettling feel of his gaze tracking her. After school. After work at the Buckboard where she was a hostess on Friday and Saturday nights. Outside her house.
Reilly had told him to stop, but he’d only succeeded in making Matt more furtive. Reilly’s brother had been the reason for their plan to run away. Her grandmother had been the motivator, and the passion of young—stupid—love had been the catalyst.
She shook her head, only marginally closer to understanding everything that had happened. For a moment, she stood undecided beside the bar. She didn’t want to join Chloe and Jonathan at the table, but the thought of being idle upstairs left her chilled to the core. With a stiff breath, she looked around at all the unfamiliar paraphernalia that Grandma Beck had accumulated. She didn’t even know what do next. Grandma Beck had cut Gracie out of her life, and it was a safe assumption that she’d cut her out of her afterlife, too.
But Gracie and Analise were her only living relatives. Where would all her grandmother’s things go if not with Gracie? Who would settle her affairs?
With Juliet on her heels, Gracie returned to the kitchen and opened the door that led to the basement. For as long as she could remember, Grandma Beck had used the landing to store empty boxes and old newspapers. She still did. Even if her things went to charity, they would still need to be packed, and Gracie had time on her hands. Perhaps it would give her some insight into the woman she’d hated almost as much as she’d loved.
Grabbing a stack of papers and an empty box, Gracie started upstairs. She passed Analise’s room on the way and paused, listening for signs of life. She’d expected Ana to return downstairs after changing, but she and Brendan hadn’t emerged since coming back from the doctor’s.
She put the packing supplies in the bedroom and went back to Ana’s door. She knocked softly, her head close to the wood panel as she listened for a response. Nothing. Not even the dogs barking, and they usually couldn’t resist such an opportunity to raise the roof. At Gracie’s feet, Juliet cocked her head and gave a low whine.
She tried the door. The knob turned easily; it wasn’t locked. But the door didn’t budge when she pushed. Gracie put some muscle behind it, shoving hard while a sizzling drop of panic hit her stomach and flared.
She tried again, using her shoulder now while Juliet made a deep, hushed, motor revving in her throat. Not her usual warning of danger, but a low signal of fear.
“Damn it,” Gracie breathed as cold sweat broke out over her skin.
Suddenly the hall felt close, dark and thick with something she felt but couldn’t see. Like a corrosive mist, it coated her flesh and began to burn. She shot a look over her shoulder. All the doors were closed. No one was standing just behind her, hot breath on her neck. So why did it feel that way?
She gave Analise’s door a last desperate thrust, and it swung back with unexpected ease. Gracie stood on the threshold, staring at the serene picture her daughter and boyfriend presented, struck by a deep, inexplicable fear inside. Analise and Brendan lay on top of the purple comforter, arms around one another, both fully dressed. She could see the uneven rise and fall of their chests, the lax expressions on their faces. Sleeping, like the children they were.
Nothing scary about that.
Gracie’s gaze moved through the room, searching for the threat she still felt. Tinkerbelle and Romeo huddled behind the beanbag chair, tucked up under the hanging bookshelf.
Hiding.
Gracie knelt down and made a clicking sound with her tongue to coax them out. The dogs swiveled their ears and whined but neither moved. Juliet had remained in the hall. She woofed softly, and the whining stopped. Gracie didn’t understand it. She didn’t understand where her own fear came from. Noth
ing in the room had changed since she’d walked in with wonder last night, so what had her on edge?
Quietly, she moved to the bed and looked down. Brendan held her daughter in a gentle embrace, her head on his shoulder, her fingers curled at her check. They looked like a snapshot of young, sweet love. Nothing scary, here.
Tinkerbelle and Romeo watched her from behind the beanbag. Both had their ears pinned, but neither one bolted for the door. They wore the same expressions when they’d been busted eating trash, so Gracie wasn’t positive she could make anything of it now.
No closer to figuring out what was bothering her, she left the room, using a round stone she’d found when she was eight as a doorstop. She felt better with it propped open, and the strange, dark feeling eased. By the time she’d moved a few steps away, it had faded altogether, making her think she’d imaged it. This whole place seemed to have that effect on her.
The room Reilly had claimed was directly across the hall. She hesitated outside it for a moment before finally gathering the courage to knock. After a few seconds, he yanked his door open and stared at her with an aloof expression.
“What do you want?”
She wished she knew. She stared past him to the bed where his duffel sat open, his things obviously going in rather than out. The unsounded feeling of unease shifted to one of all too familiar disbelief.
“You’re leaving,” she said.
Instead of answering, he moved to bed, shoved a toiletries case inside the duffel, and zipped it up.
“Have you looked outside, Reilly? In case you hadn’t noticed, you might need an ark to get out of here. You saw what happened to my car, and that was hours ago.”
“I drive a Jeep.”
“And that makes you invincible? Or are you trying to get yourself killed out there?”
They stared at each other across the room, separated by all the years of anger and a lifetime of loss. Yet their past, bound them just as completely.
“And what about Analise? You just going to take off on her without a word. She figured out who you are.”
He paled and shook his head. “I did you a favor when I left the first time, and I’ll be doing her one by leaving now.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she said, rolling her eyes.
She’d told Analise not to expect too much. She should have told herself. She turned to go when a box wrapped in clear plastic caught her eye. Young’s Mortuary was etched on the side.
“Is that ... Are those Matt’s ashes?”
His narrowed gaze moved to the box and back to her.
“You said he died months ago,” she went on.
“So?”
“Have you been carrying them around all this time?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Nothing, except it gives emotional baggage a whole new meaning. For the love of God, Reilly, is there no limit to what you’ll do to avoid unpleasantness?”
He took an angry step forward. Juliet had flopped on the floor. Now she looked up to let him know she was watching him. Reilly didn’t seem to care. He took her shoulders between his hands and glared into her eyes.
“Unpleasantness? Sweetheart, this is hell.”
Did he mean being here? Being here with her? Or were they still talking about Matt? She searched his eyes, finding a different answer altogether.
“You’re afraid,” she said.
“I’m not afraid. I’m pissed off. I just want to leave this behind. All of it.”
“But that’s not what’s going to happen. Once you lay Matt to rest you’re going to have to deal with everything you’ve been using him as an excuse to avoid.”
“Like you?” he said softly. “Like the woman who didn’t think I should know I was a father?”
She pulled back, stunned at the speed of that arrow. Wounded by how deep it sank.
“You gave up your right when you left without a forwarding address.”
“Did Analise agree with that? I didn’t know I had it to give up, Gracie. I left thinking I was protecting you, not abandoning my family.”
“And what are you doing now?”
The pain in his eyes stopped her next words, though she’d had this conversation in her mind a thousand times. Over the bitter years, she’d honed snappy comebacks and searing zingers that would hurt him. Make sure he knew just what a disappointment he’d been. But now she knew the truth.
“We were both wrong,” she said at last.
Reilly let out a deep breath and released her. “Doesn’t matter. Like you said, we had our chance to be something together and we blew it.”
“So you’re going to drive out of here in the middle of an apocalypse and never look back? All that proves is that telling you about your daughter wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference. You’d have left us anyway.”
He stared at her, speechless. She let out a breath.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to throw you under the bus, but I won’t lie to her for you.”
Still, he didn’t speak. His eyes were hard, his jaw tight. She had no idea what he was thinking.
“I’ve hated you for years, Reilly. Hated you. I used to dream of this moment. Confronting you. I thought I’d feel triumphant. Justified.” She shook her head. “Now that we’re here, I don’t know what to feel. I just know I don’t want you to go. Not like this.”
“Why?”
“Because if you do, we’ll be stuck in this place.”
“Diablo Springs?” he asked frowning.
“In a way, yes. We need to move on. We’ve been trapped in this limbo for seventeen years. I can’t walk away without knowing that we’ve changed that.”
Reilly stared at her. In his eyes she saw a thousand feelings. They merged in the flecked blues and browns of his hazel eyes and became a wall, locking her out.
“I moved on a long time ago,” he told her in a voice that hitched with contradiction. “Sorry I left you behind.”
Anger welled up inside her, so fierce that it blinded her. Heat snapped in the air between them and sparked all around. “It’s like you believe your own bullshit, Reilly. But I never have. Even when we were just kids, I saw through it. You don’t like to feel. I get that. Feeling sucks. It is what it is, though, and you feel this. I can see that you do. I can see what you are, and it’s not a man who only knows how to walk away.”
He laughed softly, unconvinced. “I wish that were true.”
“Which part?”
“The bullshit is who I am, Gracie. You’ve always seen what you wanted to see. I’ve never been part of the fairy tale. It’s never been who I am.”
“That works two ways. You think you’re going to have to save me. You thought so then. You probably still think so. Guess we’re both idiots.”
“Guess we are.”
They’d moved closer. Gracie wasn’t sure when, but suddenly her heaving chest met his. Her head was back so she could see his face. He stared down at her with hooded eyes and that same yearning that had driven her crazy since the very first time she’d realized that Reilly Alexander had noticed her. It urged her to hold on to this moment. If she let it go, she’d never have another chance. It might be the epitome of stupidity, but she wanted that chance.
As if reading her mind, Reilly whispered. “What the fuck do you want from me, Gracie? I’m only going to disappoint you.”
“Maybe.”
Surprise darkened his eyes. Uncertainty shadowed them. Gracie didn’t give him the chance to make a decision—wrong or right. She took his face between her hands and kissed him. Earlier, in the kitchen, too much of their past had been churned to the surface. She’d needed a moment to let it settle, to let the doubts sift to the bottom so she could see what was important.
Reilly had done what he’d thought best. So had she. They’d made the decisions of teenagers—the same age as the two children who slept across the hall. Using those choices as a measuring rod now would be as foolish as the choices themselves.
Besides, through it all, in spite of it all, there was still this—the fire, the passion that led them to her pregnancy in the first place.
And she missed it, that consuming need no other man had every inspired. Even the relationships that had seemed to have a future hadn’t come with the kind of passion that she felt in that moment, with Reilly.
Tomorrow the storm might be over and the harsh face of reality would be waiting. Reilly would probably still leave. It’s what he did, and the hard truths they’d shared didn’t really change that. But this moment wouldn’t be one of their many regrets.
His kiss tasted of surprise and expectation, and she suspected that the whole list of rationalizations that she’d just completed also played in his head. He caught her bottom lip with his teeth, teased her mouth with his tongue. He stole her breath and replaced it with his own.
His stomach muscles tightened when she lifted his shirt, and he muttered something darkly carnal against her lips after she’d stripped it off him. She didn’t know what he’d said, but her body did. She arched against him, and shedding clothes became a dance they did together, their bodies in harmony, their hearts beating out a driving rhythm.
He cleared the bed and then lowered her onto the mattress, the heavy weight of him following her down into the softness. She groaned at the feel of him as she wrapped her arms around him and held on. He rested his forehead against hers, their breaths pooling between them as their bodies aligned.
He kissed her mouth so slowly and deeply that she lost herself in the sensation, the taste of him, the scent of his skin. It was familiar and new at the same time, so exciting she could barely breath. His lips moved to her throat and down to her breasts, and her body arched into his touch. He kissed her everywhere, his tongue a soft friction against the underside of her breasts, on her nipples, at the vulnerable hollow below her belly. His fingers began some magical spell over the sensitive flesh between her legs, dipping, rubbing, pushing her to a place she hadn’t truly been since the last time he’d touched her so. When his mouth joined their efforts, she had to turn her face into the pillow to muffle her moans.
Bad Boys of the Night: Eight Sizzling Paranormal Romances: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set Page 180
