WILD BLOOD

by Naomi Horton

  "You probably won't believe this, but your dad used to be quite a hell-raiser when he was young. All he was interested in back then was rodeo, girls, and having a good time."

  Jody was looking at her curiously, and Kathleen realized she'd said too much. Sitting up straight, she picked up a book she'd scrounged from Gordon's library and opened it. "Okay, we'd better get started. First, how about giving me a quick review of what you've studied in civics class so far."

  The afternoon went better than she'd expected. For all his disinterest in school, Jody had a mind as sharp and supple as a whipsaw. And he stuck with the lesson like a burr, that bred-in-the-bone Kendrick stubbornness keeping him at it even when he was close to tears of sheer frustration.

  Kathleen had just glanced at her watch and was about to call it a day when someone hammered against the back door, making it rattle. "That's probably Sherry with an armload of groceries," she said as she got to her feet. "If you want to gather up all those books, I'll give you a ride home. There's no point in trying cover everything today."

  She walked through the mudroom, dodging kids' toys and discarded coats, and pulled the door open. "If you'd given me a shout, I'd have helped you carry in the—"

  But it wasn't Sherry. Jett Kendrick loomed through the doorway like a thunderstorm, hat brim pulled down, mouth thin and tight with fury. "Where is he? What the hell have you done with my son?"

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  « ^ »

  Kathleen stared at him in shock. "H-he's in the—"

  He shouldered past her roughly. "I warned you, lady. I told you to stay the hell away from him."

  He strode into the kitchen without another word, and Kathleen scrambled to keep up with him. "You can't just come storming in here as though—"

  "What are you doin' here?" Jody shoved his chair back angrily and got to his feet, fists clenching.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jett's voice was vibrant with fury. "I told you never to come near this house or anyone in it. The truck's outside. Get in it—and I mean now!"

  "You have no right coming after me!" Jody faced his father belligerently, dark eyes glittering. "I'm old enough to—"

  "No right?" Jett's voice dropped to a deceptive whisper. "Did you just say I have no right coming up here to take my own son home? Just what the hell have they been telling you, anyway?"

  "Nothing! She's helpin' me with my homework, that's all!"

  Jett was glaring at Jody, nostrils flared, every muscle in his body as taut as wire. "I want you out of this house. Now."

  But Jody didn't budge. He glared back at his father pugnaciously, feet braced, fists balled at his sides, flushed with anger and embarrassment and raw adrenaline. No longer boy to man in that instant, but man to man. Ready, finally, to stand his ground, to fight, his young blood hot with rebellion and a million years of instinct. In another time, he and Jett would have been at each other's throats, young challenger against herd sire, tendon to tendon, bone to bone, driven by laws of nature neither understood but both had to obey.

  Kathleen understood. And so, finally, did Jett.

  And—with an inherent wisdom that surprised her—he defused the moment with more grace than she would have given him credit for. Easing his breath out, he shifted his weight and moved back slightly, giving ground.

  Without even thinking, Kathleen stepped across and put her hand on Jody's arm. "Do as your dad says," she said quietly. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have gone behind your father's back like this. I'll straighten it out, all right?"

  Jett had his mouth open to tell her there was nothing to straighten out, that the whole damn lot of them could go to hell if they thought it was going to be this easy.

  But not with Jody there.

  Breathing heavily, Jett backed off another step, feeling trapped and harried and half wild with fear. This was the enemy stronghold, and they had the power here. She and her brother, both Pattersons, both attorneys, both as clever, as manipulative as their old man. And both with the weight of the Patterson name and bank account behind them, so even if the law didn't uphold their claim, they had other ways to get what they wanted.

  Jody mumbled something and nodded, looking embarrassed and mad. He started gathering up the books and papers spread across the table, and Jett waited, silently, until he was finished. Jody grabbed up the last book, young face sullen, then sidestepped Jett without looking at him and strode toward the back door.

  Jett waited until he heard it slam behind his son, then he turned and gave Kathleen a long, cold look. "I don't know what the hell you have planned, lady, but it won't work."

  "Planned?" Kathleen's voice was too calm. Too quiet. "What I had planned, Mr. Kendrick, was to help your son get a passing grade in civics. And algebra. And maybe even chemistry. But you've screwed that up very nicely, not to mention embarrassing him half to death and making a complete fool of yourself into the bargain!" Her voice had been rising steadily, and by the time she got to the last word, she was practically shouting. It seemed to startle her, and she took a deep breath. "And dancing," she added out of the blue, her eyes still snapping.

  "Dancing?" Jett's voice was little more than a yelp of frustration as he struggled to understand what was going on. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

  "He wants to learn to dance!" she all but yelled at him. "He's got a girlfriend, and he wants to learn how to slow dance. And if you were any kind of a father, damn it, he'd be asking you to teach him instead of me!"

  "A girlfriend?" Jett felt the whole thing starting to get away from him. Jody had never mentioned a girlfriend or dancing or any of it to him. "And what the hell do you mean, if I was any kind of a father?" be bellowed. "You've got no right coming into town telling me how to raise my son, lady! No damn right at all!"

  "The kid's flunking, Kendrick! He can use all the help he can get!" She gestured impatiently, chest heaving under the thin silk blouse; then she blew her breath out and combed her thick hair back from her face with her fingers, looking suddenly subdued. "But … you're right. I had no business jumping in without talking to you first. I'm sorry."

  As she pulled her hand away, her hair spilled back around her shoulders, distracting Jett badly. That mane of silken hair, the color of sun-ripened wheat, had driven him crazy once. He could remember burying his face in its scented depths once, could still taste it, could feel the weight of it in his hands, against his chest.

  "And I apologize," she was saying, bringing him back to the present with a jolt. "That crack about you not being a good father was way out of line. I had no right saying that."

  He shook off the tantalizing shadows of the past and glared at her, reminding himself of how much he had to lose. "Let's just cut the song and dance and get down to it, all right?" He stepped close to her, leaning into her space. "You walked out on me sixteen years ago, lady, and there is no damn way you're going to come back here now and—"

  "Walked out on you?" Kathleen stared at him, mind reeling as she tried to figure out what this had to do with Jody and his civics project. Understanding suddenly that it had nothing at all to do with Jody. Or homework or girlfriends or any of it. This was about them. Had been about them right from the beginning. About them and sixteen years of simmering anger.

  And just as suddenly, as though his words had somehow shattered some wall of restraint between them, she felt the anger explode up through her in a starburst of sheer rage that all but took her breath away. She planted both hands against his chest and gave him a ferocious shove, and he stumbled back a step or two with a startled expression. "Walked out? My father practically had to drag me onto the plane, and you never even—"

  "Don't pull that holier-than-thou act on me," he snarled, his voice like a whip crack. "You were all over me when I had what you wanted, but the minute your old man caved in and let you move to the big city, you couldn't get rid of me fast enough."

  Kathleen stared up at him, the fury pounding through her like heavy su
rf. Half blinded by tears of rage, she brought her right hand up without even thinking and slapped him across the cheek as hard as she could, the crack of flesh on flesh echoing through the room like a pistol shot.

  Jett froze in astonishment, and Kathleen simply stared up at him in shocked disbelief, the room suddenly so deathly silent that she could hear the pounding of her own heart.

  Breathing hard, she gritted her teeth together, fighting for control. "I loved you so much I was half crazy with it, and you threw it back in my face like it was nothing. Like I was nothing. I was fifteen, Jett. Fifteen. I would have done anything for you. I let you make love to me because I knew it was what you wanted—and I would have done anything to make you happy. I thought it meant something. I thought I meant something."

  "Sixteen," he growled, rubbing his reddened cheek. "You were sixteen." He made it sound at though it mattered.

  "Fifteen," she said with precision. "And stop making noises like a betrayed lover, Jett. I know all about you and Pam. Did you really think I wouldn't find out? The only question is, did you get her pregnant before or after you got me pregnant?"

  "What?" His brows crashed together in a ferocious scowl. "What are you talking about now?"

  "My dad said you were just sleeping with me to count coup. That I was a real prize, a rich white girl whose daddy just happened to be Judge Patterson. The same Judge Patterson who sentenced you to four months in a juvenile detention facility when you were fourteen." Kathleen lifted her chin, daring him to deny it. "He told me that I was nothing to you but a notch on your belt."

  Jett didn't move so much as a hair, but the effort it took cost him every bit of self-control he had. "So that's the line you're going to take, is it?" He made it sound as though he couldn't care less what she did, as though she had no power to touch him, to hurt him.

  But she did. The sheer immensity of just what she could do made him feel sick. It was just a line, all right, but a damned good one. With enough of the shadow of truth in it that she could make people listen if she tried hard. And she would try. He knew her.

  Kathleen glared up at him for a moment longer, then turned away, poised and as remote as ice. "I didn't believe him at first. I told him that we loved each other. That you'd marry me as soon as I told you about the baby and there was nothing he could do to stop us."

  He would beg if he had to, Jett realized remotely. He would do whatever it took to keep her from destroying his world.

  Kathleen looked around at him, her eyes cold with fury. "That's how good you were, Jett—I really didn't have a clue it was just a game to you. I spent weeks—weeks—waiting for you to come after me." She took a deep breath, her gaze never leaving his. "And while I was sitting up in the tower spinning my pathetic little fantasies about happily ever after, you were back here screwing your brains out with Pam Easton!"

  She turned and strode across to the window, fists clenched. "Don't think I came back here looking for you, Jett Kendrick. I got you out of my system long ago."

  The room was so silent that Jett could hear the pounding of his own blood. Her anger confused him. He'd expected triumph. Even satisfaction. A cold smile when she told him that the agreement he'd had with her father was nothing but paper. An even colder one while she laid it out chapter and verse and told him how it was going to be. That her father was dead and Cliff Albright was dead and she was running things her way now.

  She turned around suddenly, her eyes meeting his. They were glittering slightly, and he realized with a sense of shock that she was crying.

  "Could you at least tell me one thing? Did you plan it right from the start—right from that first night when I walked into Vic's Cafe? Or did the idea of using me to get even with Dad come later? It doesn't matter, but I'd like to know."

  "There was never any plan," he said, his voice as rough as splintered pine. "None of what went down between your old man and me had anything to do with you."

  "Yeah, right."

  "I didn't know you were pregnant until it was too late."

  "But you knew."

  Jett hesitated, wondering what would happen if he lied. But then he realized it was too late for that. "I knew."

  Her face crumpled slightly, as though she had been hoping for some other answer. Then she sighed and reached up to rake her hair away from her face with her fingers, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. "Strangely enough, it doesn't even matter anymore. Just go away, Jett, all right? I'm tired of talking about the past. I'm tired of … I'm just tired of everything!"

  She turned away from him again, kneading the back of her neck with slender, strong fingers. And suddenly he could remember the touch of those fingers. Could feel the way she used to trail them delicately down his bare belly until—

  Roughly, he dragged his thoughts back to the here and now.

  "It matters," he growled, surprised to discover that he was telling the truth. And in spite of himself, he found himself just standing there. Found himself talking again, as though he had no control over the words. "All I knew was that when I got back from the rodeo finals, you were gone. No one knew why. Just that you'd packed up and gone to live with relatives in Baltimore."

  She didn't say anything, but Jett knew she'd heard him.

  "I came out here looking for you, and your old man said you'd decided Burnt River was too small-town. That you wanted to get a head start on college by finishing school out east."

  She glanced around, eyes wary and a little angry. But, to his surprise, she didn't say anything. Just stood there as though waiting for him to go on.

  Although why he was even wasting his time, he had no idea. She didn't care about any of this. The only thing she cared about was the one thing he would never let her have. "He said you'd wanted to go to Baltimore for the better part of a year, but that he wouldn't agree to it. That you figured one sure way to get him to let you go was to start sleeping with me."

  "That's ridiculous. He said no such thing."

  But she didn't sound convinced. Not convinced at all.

  "He told me you'd just been using me all along. That I was crazy if I actually thought I had a chance with you. That you had your future all planned out and sure as hell weren't going to waste your life on a backwater half-breed like me."

  "That's not true." But she looked stricken, her voice little more than a whisper. "He wouldn't have said that."

  Jett gave a snort of mirthless laughter. "Honey, that's maybe half of what he said. He called me a worthless, no-good punk and said the only thing keeping him from having me arrested for rape was the fact that he didn't want to ruin your prospects with the rich boys down east. But that if I ever tried to talk to you or see you, he'd hunt me down and bury what was left so deep even the coyotes wouldn't find me."

  Somehow he managed another smile, though it hurt his mouth. "Come after you? Honey, I didn't even want to think about you."

  Her face was oddly pale, and she stared at him as though trying to make sense of what he'd said. "I don't believe you," she whispered finally. But her eyes said otherwise. "I left messages. With your grandparents."

  "I never got them." He bit the words out, not wanting to see the bewilderment in her eyes. Not wanting to think about the implications if she were telling the truth. "If you loved me so damn much, why didn't you come back? Why did you get rid of my baby?"

  Kathleen looked at him for a long moment. "I didn't come back," she whispered, "because you were with Pam, and without you, there was nothing here for me. And your baby died, Jett. An hour and a handful of minutes after he was born."

  An odd expression crossed Jett's face, half disbelief, half shock. Kathleen took a deep breath. "I heard him cry, then … they took him away. I never even got to hold him." Tears filled her eyes suddenly, and she blinked, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I loved you, damn it. And you broke my heart. So don't stand there telling me that I did something wrong. Don't stand there trying to tell me you were the one who got hurt!"

  "What do you mean,
he died?" Jett's voice was tight. "What the hell kind of story are you making up now?"

  Kathleen eased her breath out, feeling the anguish stab through her as it always did when she thought of that day. "I don't know what happened." She rubbed her arms, chilled, although the room was almost too warm. "Everything seemed normal. I went into labor when I was supposed to and—" She shook her head. "I had the baby, and suddenly everything got really quiet, and one of the nurses looked at me—there was such pity in her eyes, I knew right away that something was wrong."

  She closed her eyes, fighting the memories. "I started to scream that I wanted to see him, that I wanted my baby. But they took him away." She opened her eyes, still seeing that room, the white-robed figures bustling around, the hushed whispers. "Then I guess they gave me something, because I went to sleep, and when I woke up, my father told me the baby had died."

  Jett was just looking at her, eyes narrowed and as cold as glass. She rubbed her arms again, feeling the disbelief radiate from him like deep cold. "They kept me in the hospital for days, and when it was finally time for me to go home, everyone seemed to take it for granted that I'd stay in Baltimore. Mom and Dad were busy with Dad's political career, and you were … with Pam. I'd been gone for almost seven months by then, and everyone here figured I'd spent the time sailing and playing tennis and going to parties. The thought of having to come back and pretend nothing else had happened…"

  She shivered and turned away, then walked across to look out the window, not really seeing anything at all. Idly, she thought of what it had been like back then, and found the memories as cold as ashes.

  "Were you telling the truth?" She turned to look at Jett. He hadn't moved, was still standing there like a figure carved of stone. "Did you really come looking for me?"

  Even if he lied, it didn't matter. She just wanted him to say the words.