by Lora Leigh
The fact that she wasn’t was interesting. Her reaction to him even more so.
“Nothing’s going on.” That damned quick, nervous little smile was starting to get on his nerves.
She was scared of him, and it was eating a hole in his soul. Kelly had never been scared of him, not once, he had always made certain of it. Now she was watching him as though she were terrified he was going to jump her any second.
“You’re a lousy liar, baby,” he grunted, heading for the fridge and watching as she edged out of his way.
She kept her eyes on him, watching him suspiciously as he opened the door and grabbed a bottle of water. Uncapping it, his gaze locked with hers, he brought it slowly to his lips.
Now there was a glimmer of the girl he had left eight years ago. Shyly watching as he drank from the bottle, her little tongue flicking out to swipe over her own lips, as though she were thirsty. A hungry little gleam filled the soft depths of her eyes, darkening them, making them appear stormy, cloudy as it mixed with the fear.
“When did you get back?” She crossed her arms over her breasts, tearing her gaze from his. “Do Mom and Ray know you’re home?”
“Not yet.” He recapped the bottle and set it on the kitchen isle as he continued to watch her. “I had Dawg pick me up from the airport this morning. We pulled in here about seven.”
She nodded, a jerky little movement that had his fingers tightening as he watched her. The suspicion growing in his mind sent black anger swirling through him. Something had changed her, something dark and ugly, and he could see it in her eyes, in the regret and the anger and the fear that filled her expression.
The girl he had loved nearly all her life was terrified of him. She wasn’t wary, or nervous, she was flat out scared. This was the same girl he had held as a child when her father died. He’d been a scrawny teenager, she had been too young to understand the sudden death that had rocked her world, and had sought out the boy who ruffled her hair, teased her about her skinned knees, and protected her from the bullies.
This was the same girl he’d taken to her senior prom when her date had stood her up. The one he had danced with on the dance floor and had to hide his erection from because he knew he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t have her. The girl he had kissed one night when he’d had too much to drink, the one he had touched too intimately before he headed back to base four years before. She was his girl, and suddenly, she was terrified of him.
“So where’s my hug?” He leaned against the middle counter, watching her closely.
What little color had returned to her face, drained. Her eyes jerked to his, then away, her throat working as she swallowed tightly.
“I have to get dressed. I have to get to work.” She turned on her heel, moving for the doorway.
“Kelly.” Knowing he was making a mistake, feeling that knowledge to the soles of his booted feet, Rowdy reached out to catch her wrist.
His fingers touched her, curled around the bare skin when she shrieked, turning on him with a flash of fear as she jerked away from him, her body tightening defensively.
“What?” She gave it a good fight. She tried to cover her reaction, but the way she suddenly backed away from him and the fear on her face gave her away. There was no hiding the fact that his touch had terrified her. “Kelly, where’s Dad?” He kept his voice cool. But fury was racing through him. Only one thing could cause a reaction like this, only one thing would have changed the teasing, tempting little minx he had known into a terrified, scurrying little rabbit.
“The marina.” She licked her lips again, her gaze jumping away from him, her expression warring between fear and frustration. “I have to get dressed. I’ll…I’ll be down later.”
She ran from him. As quick as that she turned tail in those sloppy, ill-fitting clothes she was wearing and moved from the kitchen to the staircase in the entryway and rushed upstairs.
She left him alone in the sunlit kitchen, his fists clenched, anger surging in his gut, and his suspicions all but confirmed.
He turned abruptly and stalked to the phone, ripping it from its base, and punched in the marina’s number.
He waited through four rings impatiently, one hand propped on his hip, the other clenched around the phone with a force that should have shattered it.
“Mackay Marina.” His father’s booming voice suddenly came over the receiver.
“Hey, Dad, how’s it going?” Rowdy kept his voice calm, controlled.
“Hey, Rowdy, not too bad.” Ray Mackay chuckled. “How did you get to call so early? That CO of yours sleeping on the job?”
“Hell if I know,” he drawled. “I didn’t sign up for another tour, Dad.” He had planned to, had every intention of doing so until his last birthday passed and he realized that running from some things wasn’t working. “I’m home. Showed up about seven this morning.” Tension suddenly sizzled across the line.
“You’re home?” His dad’s voice was deliberately bland, the tone mild. But Rowdy knew his dad, sometimes too well.
“Yep. Saw Kelly too.”
He wasn’t a fool, but even if he had been the muttered curse that came across the line would have warned him.
“We’re on our way home.” Ray confirmed his worst fears. “We need to talk.”
Rowdy hung up the phone, stared around the kitchen, then breathed out heavily.
Damn. He came home to court his favorite girl, to settle down, to stop fighting what he knew was a losing battle. Had he come home too late?
Kelly let the hot water from the shower flow over her, wash away her tears, though it couldn’t wash away the feeling of hands holding her down, of fetid breath on her face and hard, wet lips covering hers.
It couldn’t drown out the rage and anger, or the fear. The water turned her skin pink from the heat and stung her tender flesh, but it couldn’t ease the need that lay just below the memories of a night she feared had changed her life forever.
Rowdy was home. All six feet, four inches of hard, muscled flesh and teasing sea green eyes. He was home after more than a year away, a man full-grown, mature, and sexy as hell.
She wiped at her tears again, her breath hitching in her throat as she remembered one of the few nights she had followed him to the lake. The houseboat was Rowdy’s pride and joy, and it was his escape. And she knew where he would head, to the Point, a serene cove where he and his buddies gathered on the weekends to drink, fish, let off steam, and party out the excessive energy they always seemed to have.
“Dad’ll kill me.” He had been just a little drunk, and way too sexy. His sea green eyes had darkened, his expression growing heavy with desire as he pressed her against a tree.
They had been hidden in the shadows from the rest of the group, sheltered. The heat of summer and lust had wrapped around them. He had been a man, and she had been too innocent, too uncertain in how to contain the need that pulsed in every cell of her body.
“I won’t tell him,” she had whispered, her palms smoothing up his chest, feeling the prickle of the light growth of body hair that spread over his torso as his hands gripped her hips, pulling her against his thighs.
“He’ll know I touched you.” His lips had quirked into a smile. “You’re like pure, raw liquor, Kelly. And you go to my head faster.”
She had fought to breathe, to contain the explosion of satisfaction and joy that rushed through her bloodstream.
“I’m leaving again tomorrow, baby.” At first the words hadn’t made sense. “I took another tour. Damned good thing, because sure as hell I’d end up doing this, and fuck us both up for good.”
Agony had washed over her body even as pleasure had exploded into fragmented, flickering rays of sensation. His lips had covered hers, his tongue teasing her as he sampled her kiss then tasted the tears that fell from her eyes.
“One kiss, baby. Just this. Damn, you’re going to break my heart.”
He had kissed her as though he were starved for her. One hand had curled in her long hair, th
e other had cupped her breast, his thumb rasping over her engorged nipple, their moans blending together as the summer night enfolded them.
The hard length of his cock had pressed between her thighs. Even through the heavy material of his jeans she had felt the throb of his erection, the length of it, the promise of passion and satisfaction.
“Don’t leave,” she had whispered as he drew back from her. “Don’t go, Rowdy.”
“If I don’t, I’ll ruin us both forever…” He had set her from him, staring down at her, his eyes raging with lust. “Don’t forget me, darlin’, because sure as hell, I don’t think I’ll ever forget you.”
He had never touched her again. He had taken her back to the shore and walked her the short distance to the small parking area above the Point. He had put her in her car and sent her home. And the next morning, he was gone. And he had not touched her since. She had lived on fantasy and dreams, because Rowdy made certain there was no chance of a repeat performance. And she had plotted and planned for his return. She had moved out of her mother’s home into a small apartment in town. She had begun monthly visits to the local spa where she was plucked, waxed, toned, and lotioned on a regular basis. For too short a time.
Within three months of moving out all her dreams had turned to ashes and fear had taken their place. Her own foolishness had led to her downfall, and pulling herself from the shadows of the terror she had experienced was taking all her strength. She didn’t know if she could survive dealing with Rowdy and her need for him, on top of it.
She leaned her head against the shower wall, her breath hitching as she fought back tears. He knew something was wrong. There was no way to hide it. She looked at him now and she didn’t just see the man she had been in love with since she was a kid. She saw someone she couldn’t fight, couldn’t struggle from if she needed to. She saw a threat.
Her fists clenched as she pressed them against the tile, anger building in her chest until she wondered if she would be able to hold back the screams that pressed at the back of her throat.
She loved him. She had loved him forever. Dreamed of him, ached for him, waited for him. And now she was too damned scared to even welcome him home.
Are you my good girl, Kelly?
She flinched at the memory of the scratchy voice at her ear as a hard male body held her down, as the slickened fingers of the other hand probed between her buttocks, ignoring her struggles, her muted screams through the gag over her mouth.
She had been bleeding from the numerous cuts he had made on her body after he tied her spread-eagle on her bed. The wounds had burned like fire as they bled, the adrenaline pumping through her making the blood race and pour from the cuts. It had made her weak, made it hard to think, to work the hastily tied gag loose enough for one piercing scream as she felt him attempt to penetrate her rear.
God, she hated the memory of it. Hated the feeling of helplessness that followed her, even now. She had been unable to fight; unable to protest anything he did to her. And the nightmares that alone brought left her shaking in the darkest hours of the night.
She had been terrified of Rowdy knowing. Fearing he would blame her.
But even more, she had feared for Rowdy. He would have never stayed on duty if he knew what was going on at home. He would have left, with or without permission, and returned for vengeance. Rowdy protected those he cared about, and Kelly knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would have come racing home, even if it meant going AWOL.
But now Rowdy was home. And Kelly knew, once he learned the truth, he would never let it rest. He would find the stalker tormenting her, or he would die in the effort. And the fear of his death overshadowed even the fear of the threat she faced herself. Because life without the promise of seeing Rowdy, of hearing his laughter and the dark promise of passion in his voice, was a life Kelly didn’t want to contemplate. A life she knew she didn’t want to face.
TWO
At fifty-seven, Ray Mackay was still a powerful man, with hazel eyes and hair that still retained much of its raven black color. His weathered face was starting to crease with deep laugh lines at the sides of his eyes. Eyes that were usually cheerful, always warm and friendly, were now somber.
Rowdy was waiting on the front porch of the two-story white and red farmhouse when his dad pulled into the driveway, the dark green Jeep Laredo parking beside Rowdy’s Harley.
Maria Mackay was out of the jeep before Ray turned the engine off, rushing up the cement walkway, her gray blue eyes concerned as she met his gaze.
“Is Kelly okay?” Maria Salyers Mackay was still slender for her forty-seven years of age. The summer shorts and crisp, white cotton shirt showed off her tanned legs and arms attractively.
“Why wouldn’t she be?” He leaned against the railing, watching her with narrowed eyes. “And why do I have a feeling that if I had warned ya’ll I was coming home, that I might have found my way barred?”
He could see it in her face, in his father’s heavyset expression. They hadn’t expected him, and they weren’t comfortable with him being there alone with Kelly. And that just pissed him off. Whatever the hell was going on, one thing should have been set in cement in their heads, and that was the fact that he would die before he hurt Kelly.
“I’d never bar you from your own home, Douglas.”
He winced. Maria was the only person who called him Douglas, and the snap in her voice when she said it now was as sharp as a knife. No one called him Douglas, ever. But hell, she had taught him in school and breaking her of the habit wasn’t easy.
He crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at her intently as she stepped onto the porch.
“I’m going to check on Kelly.” She moved for the door.
“Not yet.” He didn’t move; he didn’t intend for his voice to lower warningly, or his body to tense as he watched a main source of information attempt to escape. But he wanted answers, and she wasn’t running off until he had them.
“Go on, Maria.” Ray stepped up behind her, his large hands settling on her shoulders as he gave them a comforting squeeze. “I’ll talk to Rowdy. We’ll be in soon.”
She glanced up at Rowdy, worry and regret shimmering in her eyes before she turned to her husband, kissing his cheek gently before moving into the house.
Rowdy’s attention fixed on his father, watching as he swiped his fingers through his hair before burying his hands in his jeans pockets.
“Was she raped?” Rowdy lifted the bottle of water to his lips, taking a long sip as he watched Ray’s eyes darken with pain.
Ray breathed out roughly, his shoulders shifting as he lowered his head.
“Attacked,” he finally muttered. “She wasn’t raped. But she was cut up pretty bad, traumatized.” He lifted his head and Rowdy wondered if his father could see the pure murder burning inside him now.
“Who did it?” He kept his voice even, cool nonetheless.
Ray shook his head slowly, his expression heavy.
“She didn’t see his face; there were no leads on who he was or why he attacked her.”
The water bottle crumpled in Rowdy’s hand, water sloshing over his fingers before he realized what he had done. Forcing himself to release the plastic, he set it on the railing and focused on his father.
“Where did it happen?”
“She moved out right after your last visit,” Ray sighed roughly. “Nice little apartment in town, next to one of her friends. Few weeks later she started getting crank calls. Caller ID couldn’t trace them. We put new locks on her doors and windows, but you know how she was.” Ray shook his head wearily. “Liked sleeping with her window cracked. She thought she was safe. Thought she would hear it if someone snagged the fire escape ladder. But she didn’t. Her neighbor’s boyfriend heard her screams and knocked the door down, but he’d already hurt her. The attacker got out the window before the boy could catch him.”
Short and to the point. And he was hiding something, Rowdy could feel it. He stared back at his father,
silent, probing, knowing he would tell him eventually. Rowdy wouldn’t give him a choice.
Ray glanced back at him, then away. His teeth clenched, rage glittered in his eyes.
“It wasn’t a normal attack,” he finally muttered.
Rowdy felt a chill race up his spine.
“What do you mean by that?” He had to force the words past his throat.
Ray coughed nervously. “He meant to rape her anally. He almost managed it.”
“Motherfucker! God. Damn!” Rowdy flung himself across the porch, his hands running over his head before he gripped the back of his neck in fury. “Son of a bitch!” His abdomen tightened as he fought to hold back a howl of pure rage before jerking back to stare at his father. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
“Hell Rowdy, what could you do?” Ray snapped, anger suffusing his face. “She begged us not to tell you. You were clear across the world with no hope of coming home anytime soon. There was nothing you could have done.”
“Like hell,” he snarled. “They would have let me come home or dealt with the consequences. That’s no excuse.”
“Exactly.” His father’s face flushed with anger. “You would have gone AWOL to come home, and caused even more of a mess for that kid. Do you think we didn’t know what the hell was going on before you left the first time? You couldn’t keep your eyes off her and she was just a fucking kid. Four years later you were back for three months and it was worse. She didn’t need that. The attack was too brutal and she was too damned vulnerable. I opted to wait till you returned, and I stand by that decision.”
“Damn.” Rowdy pushed his fingers through his hair before rubbing at the back of his neck with an edge of violence. “Son of a bitch, Dad. Who would do that to her?”
Ray shook his head. “There was a rash of rapes last summer. Several girls in surrounding counties were attacked, all anally. No one caught the bastard and the sheriff has no leads. She’s finally coming out of it, Rowdy, getting a grip on herself. But it was bad for a while. Bad enough that we wondered if she would ever leave this damned house again.”
