Ruthless

  Swallowing back any trace of fear, Dani stood by the car, one arm thrown up to shield her eyes from the blinding light as she waved wildly.

  She heard the engine slowing as the driver noticed her. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. The bike—a big Harley—slid to a stop only a few feet away. Dani pushed herself upright. All her nerve endings were aroused, the metallic taste of fear in her throat.

  A man, dressed in black leather from head to toe, straddled his bike. The huge machine thrummed between his legs. Crossing her fingers again and swallowing against a suddenly dry throat, she prayed that he wasn’t part of some kind of wild motorcycle gang, the kind she’d seen in the movies.

  “Car trouble?” he yelled. A tough, deep voice.

  “’Fraid so.”

  “Humph.” He ran a hand through hair that was unruly, hair that hadn’t been trapped beneath a helmet. “Don’t know if I can help much, but I’d be glad to take a look if ya want.”

  “Thanks . . . I, um, appreciate it.” Her palm was so sweaty she nearly dropped the flashlight.

  He rolled the bike onto the shoulder, cut the engine and swung a leg over the seat. “Okay, let’s see what’s going on.”

  “I can tell you what. Nothing.” She didn’t know his name, wasn’t sure that she could trust him. Unfortunately, on this star-studded night, alone on the highway with mountains looming on either side of the road, she was stranded and had no choice but to place her life in the hands of this stranger.

  She held her breath.

  Whether he guessed it or not, this man she’d never met before was about to change the course of her life forever ....

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Shine that light over here.”

  He was already peering under the hood, reaching into his back pocket for a rag and poking around.

  Nervous as a cat, Dani pointed the weak beam over the engine. Who was this guy—a Good Samaritan or a thug? He seemed safe enough as he scrutinized the old engine, but still she glanced anxiously down the empty road and realized how alone she was. How vulnerable. “Tell me what happened,” he asked, his voice muffled.

  “It just died on me. I was on my way home from work—I’m a, well, I was a waitress at the Dawson City Truck Stop. My shift was over at midnight and I live in Rimrock. I started driving and all of a sudden everything gave out.” She handed him the flashlight and he glanced in her direction for just a second. She caught a glimpse of deep blue eyes. He didn’t respond, just turned back to the car. Not a whole lot older than she, he seemed to know what he was doing. At least she hoped so. Her fingers raking nervously through her hair, she added, “Now the darned thing won’t even turn over—I just hear a clicking sound whenever I try to start it.”

  “Probably the battery.”

  “But why would it give out in the middle of a trip? I was driving along just fine and then ... nothing.”

  He shrugged. “The car’s old.”

  She felt the sting of heat wash up the back of her neck. It seemed she was always being reminded of the painful fact that there was never enough money to go around. While some families such as the McKees were incredibly wealthy, others were destined to always struggle to make ends meet. Such seemed to be her mother’s lot in life. Dani swore she’d never let the same thing happen to her. Somehow, someway, she was going to be able to take care of herself and her family, and it wasn’t going to be by relying on some rich guy’s charity like her mother did with Jonah McKee, who had been Irene’s emotional and financial support since her husband died. No way. She intended to make it on her own. She might even end up rich, if things worked out right. But these were her private thoughts, her secret dreams. She shared them with no one, especially a stranger she’d barely met.

  “Old parts wear out.” He handed her the flashlight and wiped his hands on the white rag now streaked with black grease.

  “The car’s really not that old,” she protested, her spine stiffening with false pride.

  “Got a lot of miles on it, though. Right?” He focused his attention back under the hood and began poking around again, pulling out dipsticks, pushing on wires, looking at hoses as she shined the failing beam on the radiator and the battery. “No problems before tonight?”

  She couldn’t lie. “There are always problems. Sometimes it won’t start, especially in the morning if it’s cold outside, and sometimes it needs a little oil or transmission fluid, but it’s never stopped dead in its tracks before.”

  He climbed behind the steering wheel and tried the ignition. For all his efforts he heard a series of clicks, nothing more. He instructed her to try to start the car while he watched the engine. In the end he shrugged. “My guess is still the battery,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “This car’s not going anywhere.”

  Her heart sank. Not that she hadn’t expected the news, but she’d hoped someone with a little more mechanical know-how than she could get it started.

  “We can get another car or truck, come back here and jump-start it with cables, but that’ll take time. Otherwise you’ll have to call and have it towed.”

  “How much will that cost?” she asked, mentally counting the money in her pocket. She had her tips for the night and nothing more—probably less than twenty dollars.

  “Couldn’t guess.”

  She bit her lower lip and thought as he slid a glance her way. For a second, she imagined she saw a flicker of pity in his eyes, but it was dark and she couldn’t be sure. Her vertebrae snapped to attention. She didn’t want his sympathy.

  “You said you were going home to Rimrock, right?”

  She nodded miserably. She didn’t want to leave the car. Nor was she happy at the prospect of leaving him, and that seemed to be where his questions were leading.

  “Listen, the best I can do is give you a ride.” Still wiping his hands, he started toward his bike.

  “But you were going the other way.” She didn’t want to inconvenience him any more than she already had and she wasn’t comfortable jumping on a huge motorcycle in the middle of the night with someone she didn’t know. True, so far he’d been nothing but helpful but she didn’t even know his name.

  “Rimrock’s not that far,” he reasoned, flashing her a smile that slashed white against the dark night.

  Sweat was gathering on her palms. She told herself that she was being silly, but the guy made her nervous. “Maybe someone will come along who’s heading that way.”

  “And maybe they won’t stop.”

  “Maybe they will.” Why he brought out the argumentative side in her, she didn’t understand. “You did.”

  “Yeah, but I’m just that kind of guy,” he said, turning on his thousand-watt smile again. She could hardly resist. “This time of night the next guy might have stopped off at a bar and had a few too many.”

  No argument there. She’d seen too many well-meaning guys who, after working all day, spent the next few hours unwinding with several drinks, only to nearly lose their balance when they stood up from their stools. Oftentimes, Smitty, the owner of the diner, caught them and called a cab, but a few slipped past his watchful gaze.

  “Or the guy could be worse than a drunk,” he added, echoing her very own thoughts. “There are all sorts of nuts out at night. Even here, in the middle of nowhere. I wouldn’t trust anyone if I were you.”

  “I might not have a choice.”

  His lips clamped together and he muttered something about hardheaded females under his breath. “Come on.”

  She planted her heels in the gravel. If there was anything she hated, it was playing the part of the helpless woman. It galled her to think that she had to rely on this guy or anyone else for that matter. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  A hard-edged smile stretched across his face and he glanced up at the stars as if seeking divine intervention. “As you so aptly put it, you don’t have much of a choice.” Reaching forward, he took her hand. His fingers were warm and strong. “Okay. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot and
should start over. I’m Brandon Scarlotti.”

  Her heart plummeted. Brandon Scarlotti? Her throat turned to sand. Though Scarlotti lived in Dawson City, she’d heard of him, whispers from her girlfriends about a boy—a very sexy boy—who was nothing but trouble. Rumor had it that he was a bastard who’d never met his father and wore a chip on his shoulder like a badge of honor. He’d been caught drunk and thrown into juvenile detention more than once. He’d been accused of stealing everything from cars to stereo equipment to motorcycle parts. He’d been found in bed with the police chief’s underage daughter but then he’d been underage himself, so no charges had been pressed.

  Somehow he’d survived every scrape, avoided doing serious jail time, but was the scourge of Dawson City, the cocksure, I-don’t-give-a-damn boy who sent chills into every father’s heart and caused most girls to want to tame him. Even Dani’s mother knew of him. She’d heard about him from Bess Jamison, a friend who lived near the Scarlottis. Brandon had been blamed for everything from stealing money and liquor to breaking Bess’s daughter’s heart.

  And now he was here. Waiting. Staring at her with eyes so intense she felt her skin heat. “Well?”

  “I’m . . . I’m Dani Donahue.”

  “Okay, Dani Donahue, hop on the bike.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t have time to argue, okay? You need help, I’m offering and—” his gaze found hers in the pale light from the stars “—you can trust me.”

  Considering all the rumors surrounding him, she doubted it. But then, they were just rumors. Idle gossip.

  “I don’t think ... I mean . . .”

  His lips twisted downward as if he’d read her mind. “Despite what you’ve heard about me, I don’t bite. Nor do I make it a practice of kidnapping girls I’ve never met before. You’re safe with me, darlin’, and from the looks of it, you’re lucky I came along.” When she still hesitated, he swore under his breath, revved the engine of the bike and shook his head. “Damn it, Dani, climb on the bike, and do it now. I’ve had a helluva day, I’m dead tired and I’m sick of arguing with you. Got it?”

  She ground her back teeth together, but nodded tersely. He had a point. She didn’t have many options.

  “Good. For crying out loud, I’m not going to hurt you!”

  Biting her lip, she swung a leg over the seat, wrapped her arms around his waist and scooted close enough so that her breasts were crushed against his broad back. He flexed, let out the clutch, and the motorcycle took off with a screech of tires and burst of gravel. The back end shimmied a bit. With a roar the metal beast leaped forward. Involuntarily, her arms tightened around him and she rested her head between his shoulders. He smelled of old leather and tobacco, soap and smoke. The air whistled in her ears and tore at her hair as the pavement slid beneath them at a dizzying speed.

  She’d always loved speed, ridden horses all her life, thrilled to the feel of a swift beast racing as if the devil himself were on its tail. The motorcycle was different, a powerful machine that whined loudly as it ripped through each gear, wheels spinning smoothly over the road.

  Dani hung on tight as they skimmed along the asphalt, weaving through the valleys and hills until the lights of Rimrock shone in the night sky. Her heart was a snare drum, but she couldn’t help but smile. She was riding through the mountains with Brandon Scarlotti, the wild one himself. The rebellious part of her reveled in the excitement of it all; the cautious side of her nature was scared spitless.

  “Where to?” he asked as they passed the city limits. He slowed at an intersection where a service station was already locked up for the night.

  “Home, I guess. Pine Street.” She directed him down the avenue lined with trees and vintage houses that were beginning to show signs of aging—peeling paint and weathered steps. “There—third house on the left,” she said, pointing to her mother’s yellow bungalow with its never-need-paint aluminum siding, the only house Dani had ever lived in. A porch light was blazing, attracting moths and casting harsh illumination over the old swing near the front door. Brandon pulled into the driveway and Dani swung off the bike. “Thanks,” she said, feeling suddenly awkward. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  “Your car’s still out there.” The engine of his Harley idled, throbbing in the warm night air.

  “I know, but I’ll find a way to get it in the morning.” She slid her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and rocked back on the worn heels of her boots. If only there was some way to prolong the evening, she thought, surprising herself. She didn’t want him to leave, at least not yet. She was beginning to trust him and found him fascinating and disturbing. Her arms still tingled from holding tight to him and feeling, beneath the soft, worn leather, hard, lean muscles. He was staring at her with those deep-set, intense eyes that cut into the depths of her soul.

  “Would . . . would you like to come in for some soda or something?” she blurted, then felt like a foolish schoolgirl.

  He hesitated, his gaze touching hers for just a second more before he looked away. For a silly little instant, she thought he might agree. He stared at the pulse point thundering in her throat. “Another time. It’s late. I’d better get going.” His voice sounded rougher than she remembered and he twisted on the accelerator, revving the engine.

  Disappointment drilled a hole in her heart. “Oh. Well. Sure. Uh, thanks again.” She sounded like a blathering idiot. She, Dani Donahue, the master of the quick comeback was reduced to a mumbling, blushing girl of twelve.

  “Anytime,” he said before favoring her with one last smile and rolling the motorcycle out of the driveway.

  “If I can ever return the favor . . .” Jeez, did she really say that? How stupid!

  “I’ll call,” he promised as the big machine roared away. She stood with the dry weeds brushing her ankles, her gaze glued to the plume of blue exhaust left in his wake.

  “Dani?” Her mother’s sharp voice caught her off guard.

  Dani froze. Did her mother recognize Brandon?

  “What happened? Where’s the car?” She stepped from the open doorway and onto the porch and Dani wondered how much of the conversation she’d overheard. Irene Donahue’s hair was hidden beneath a pink hair net and a cigarette burned in her hand.

  “The beast broke down.”

  “What? What do you mean ‘broke down’?”

  “One minute I was driving and the car was going along just fine, the next minute it quit on me. Wouldn’t start no matter what I did. I got a ride home.”

  “From a boy on a motorcycle?” her mother asked, unable to hide the suspicion in her voice as she stared after the retreating taillight.

  “Yes.”

  “Someone you know, I hope.” Her brow creased in worry.

  “No—I, um, didn’t even get his name.” She felt horrible lying about him and yet if her mother even suspected her of having anything to do with Brandon Scarlotti, she’d flip. Guilt riddled, Dani held her tongue.

  Taking a deep drag from her cigarette, Irene turned her attention back to her younger daughter and Dani knew what she was thinking—that Dani had always been more of a problem than her older sister, Skye and that if she could, Irene would try to rein in Dani and mold her into Skye’s pristine image. “So where exactly is ‘the beast’?” she asked.

  “About halfway to Dawson City at the final hill in the mountains.” Dani’s words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other, as if by speaking rapidly she could stem the sense of disappointment that seemed to be settling on her mother’s thin shoulders. “I didn’t have a choice, Mom. I had to leave it. But it’s parked off the road far enough on the shoulder where it shouldn’t get hit. I tried to start it about a million times and then the guy on the motorcycle looked under the hood and tried, but it just wouldn’t do anything. I—I think it’ll be all right.” She crossed her fingers.

  “I hope so.” Irene took a drag on her cigarette. The tip glowed brightly—orange coals in a black night. “Lordy, what next?” she said on a
long-suffering sigh. Smoke filtered from her nostrils. “I suppose I can walk to work in the morning.” She seemed older in the harsh glare of the porch light.

  “I’ll call and have it towed.”

  Irene shook her head. “That would cost a fortune. You just come on in the house and go to bed. I’ll worry about the car.”

  Dani was too tired to argue. She entered the house and walked down a short hallway to the bedroom she’d shared with her sister until Skye had moved out. Kicking off her jeans, Dani closed her eyes and heard her mother lock the front door and sigh wearily.

  Still thinking about Brandon, wondering if all the scandalous tales about him could be believed, Dani peeled off the rest of her clothes, threw a nightgown over her head and tossed back the covers of her twin bed.

  “I know it’s late and I hate to bother you . . .” Irene’s voice, barely a whisper, drifted through the bedroom door Dani had left ajar. “I wouldn’t have called, but I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

  Jonah McKee. Dani’s heart seemed to nosedive through the mattress to the floor. She didn’t have to hear his name to know who was on the other end of the line. As always, whenever there was a problem, Irene Donahue called the old bastard even though it was the middle of the night and he was probably in bed with his wife.

  Dani squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to listen, but bits of the one-sided conversation drifted into the room on a cloud of smoke from Irene’s cigarette. “I know. I know,” she was saying. “Well, it’s old and it needs new brakes and battery ... Yes, while she was driving home . . . I don’t know really—someone happened by on a motorcycle and brought her home . . . What? . . . I don’t know. She didn’t know him, either, though. I don’t think she even asked him his name. I know, I know, it’s dangerous, but she didn’t have much of a choice ... Yes, some stranger. Thank God it wasn’t someone who would kidnap her or . . . well, you know.”

  There was a soft, sad laugh. “Yep, she’s always been a handful, ever since she was a little girl ... A lot like her father ... I hated to call, but I knew you’d understand. I hope I didn’t wake Virginia ... Thanks. I will ... Really ... I don’t know how to thank you—you’ve been so kind already . . .” The words were soft, filled with adoration. They made Dani sick.