Ruthless

  “Alison—hey, where’s your suit?” Billy Crawford yelled and shook his head as he climbed out of the lake. He sprayed pellets of water on a couple of girls, who shrieked and nearly dropped their cups of beer.

  “Hey, watch it!” one cried.

  Her friend danced out of the way. “Billlly! For crying out loud, stop!”

  Ignoring the girls’ protests, he ran up to Alison and Dani. He was six foot three and skinny, with a few hairs on his chest and hands big enough to palm a basketball. He twirled Alison off her feet as easily as if she weighed less than a feather. “I wondered if you’d show up.”

  “Said I would,” she teased, flirting outrageously. She and Billy had gone together since eighth grade, and though they fought as often as not, continually breaking up and getting back together, Dani assumed that someday, soon after high school, they would marry. Billy was insanely jealous of any boy who even glanced Alison’s way and she was nearly as bad.

  “Hi, Dani.” Billy was always friendly, except when he drank too much or when another boy gave Alison too much attention. “Wanna beer?”

  “Sure,” Alison said with a wicked grin.

  Dani shook her head. “Later.”

  Billy loped off to the keg and waited his turn in line with some kids Dani didn’t recognize. She looked around and wondered why she’d agreed to come.

  “He’s so damned sexy,” Alison said, eyeing Billy’s buttocks and the way his swim trunks hung beneath his tan line.

  Sexy wasn’t the word Dani would use to describe Billy, but she didn’t say it. He was big and gawky with a crooked grin and a hearty laugh. But sexy? No way. Ah, well, to each his own.

  “I can’t say no to him.” Alison bit her lower lip and for once her smile disappeared. “You know what I mean?”

  Dani knew exactly what she meant, but she didn’t admit to it; if she did, Alison would start asking questions. Billy returned, balancing three plastic cups of beer. His smile was wide. “I thought you needed one,” he explained, handing Dani her drink. Foam, smelling of malt and yeast, slopped over the side. “If you don’t drink it, I will.” His grin was guileless. He’d never been much of a student, but then Dani had that distinction herself. On the basketball court, however, Billy Crawford was pure magic, just as she was on horseback. “Cheers,” he said, touching his cup to hers and slinging his free hand around Alison’s tiny waist.

  “Cheers.”

  Dani took a sip and watched as Billy guzzled his to the bottom. Alison took a gulp and licked the froth from her mouth. “Hey, that’s my job,” Billy said, his eyes already slightly glazed. He bent down and kissed Alison hard on the lips, one big hand still holding his empty cup, the other sliding down to grab one side of Alison’s rump. Alison’s spine curved easily as she arched her body and pressed against him.

  Dani, embarrassed, turned away. She knew what Alison was feeling but believed that lovemaking was a private act between the two people involved. Carrying her unwanted cup, she walked to the edge of the lake, sat down, kicked off her thongs and wiggled her toes in the clear water. Ice-cold, it lapped at the bottom of her feet. An eagle swooped low over the lake as fish rose to the surface. Dani sighed. Listening to the drone of insects coming alive with the night, she propped her drink on a rock, wrapped her arms around her knees and wondered how she could get home. She could walk, she supposed, but it was over five miles to town and she was wearing thongs. Great.

  She really wasn’t much of a party girl, she realized as she scanned the knots of kids talking, laughing, drinking and smoking. Someone turned up the music. A couple of girls began dancing in the empty bed of a pickup parked near the ramshackle old house. Boys hooted.

  She didn’t belong here. That seemed to be the biggest problem in her life—the not belonging. Though she had a mother who loved her and an older sister who would do anything for her, Dani felt out of step with her small family, just as she felt out of place here. She picked up a rock and sent it skimming over the water; it skipped on the glassy surface, sending out ever-expanding ripples.

  Then she heard it, the unmistakable rumble of a motorcycle engine. Scrambling to her feet, she saw the beam of a single headlight flashing behind the thin stands of pines. Brandon! She crossed her fingers and held her breath, realizing for the first time that she’d come here with the express hope of seeing him again.

  Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him stop the bike and take in the party. His stare was hard and sure and landed with heart-stopping intensity directly on her. Climbing off his bike, he ignored greetings from his friends.

  “Hey, Scarlotti, where ya been?”

  “How about a beer?”

  “Hell, I’d given you up for dead.”

  Brand didn’t even glance in the direction of the shouts, swore under his breath and strode over the mashed-down grass to Dani. “What do you think you’re doing here?” he demanded, his voice a harsh whisper.

  “I just—I mean Alison invited me to—” She saw the fury in his eyes and stopped. “Well, what did you expect me to do, Brand, just sit around and wait for you?”

  “No, but I didn’t expect this.”

  “It’s not like we ever go out—”

  He stopped dead in his tracks, whirled and brought his face to within inches of hers. Glaring at her, he growled, “And whose idea was that, hmm?” His lips barely moved. “Who didn’t want anyone to know we were seeing each other?”

  “But—”

  “Come on,” he said, dragging her with him.

  “You’ve been to dozens of parties.”

  Again he swore and his lips thinned. “Yeah, and I’ve been hauled into j.d. court more times than I want to remember. All the trouble I ever got into started out as innocent fun.” His grip tightened around her arm. “Let’s go.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do!”

  “Like hell, Dani. This is for your own good.” Then as if hearing himself, he stopped, placed his hands firmly on his hips and drew in a long, calming breath. When he faced her again, some of his hostility had fled. “You want to stay here or come with me?” he asked, his fingers slowly straightening as he released her. They were standing in what had once been a rose garden. Most of the bushes had died long ago and only a couple of hardy, untrimmed plants had survived to trail thorny vines that clutched at her legs and shorts.

  “I want to go with you . . . you know I do. But I don’t like to be manhandled or told what to do or treated like a child.”

  A tic developed near his eye. “I didn’t mean—oh, damn it all anyway.” He gazed at her then and offered her a sad, knowing smile. “I think we should leave before the cops come and crash this party.”

  “And go where?”

  Sighing, he glanced at the darkening sky. “I wish I knew,” he said under his breath, before rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. “Look . . . I need to talk to you. Alone.” For the first time, she noticed the shadows in his eyes, as if he was hiding something from her, carrying some unspeakable burden.

  “Then let’s not waste any more time,” she said, taking his hand and walking quickly toward his motorcycle. His fingers, usually so warm, felt cold despite the heat of the evening. His jaw was clamped so hard, the bone showed through on his chin. Lines of tension framed his mouth. “What’s wrong?” she asked, dread beginning to drip into her bloodstream.

  “Everything.” In the distance, she heard the distinctive wail of sirens. Brandon spewed out an oath and pulled her hard toward his motorcycle. “Hell,” he grated. “I knew it! Come on!” She didn’t need any further urging and slid onto the bike behind him.

  The sirens screamed closer. Several other kids heard them.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  “Clear out, everybody! Cops!”

  “Leave the damned keg!”

  Footsteps pounded. Engines fired and roared. Tires screeched over the oaths and panicked warnings of the partygoers.

  Brandon wound up the Harley and headed, not back down the lane t
oward the main highway and the approaching police cars, but through the grass past the old house to a strip of beach rimming the lake. “Where are we going?” she yelled, tears blurring her vision as the bike screamed through the night.

  “Anywhere!”

  The cycle skimmed the lake as the sirens drowned out every other sound. Dani wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed her cheek against his broad back, held on tight and wondered why he’d come for her, how he’d known where she was. Not that it mattered.

  Red, blue and white lights strobed the night as Brand twisted hard on the handlebars. The bike turned sharply to the right, headed deep into the forest. The back wheel nearly spun out, dirt spraying, but then they were riding on a dusty trail, overgrown with weeds and barely wide enough for the Harley. Branches slapped at their faces. Dani closed her eyes and clung to him as the path wound ever upward toward Elkhorn Ridge.

  Suddenly he slowed. Nearly at the highway, Brandon stopped, turned off the bike’s headlight and waited. In the distance, a voice crackled over a bullhorn as the police rounded up the kids unlucky enough to have been caught. Tickets for minor in possession would be slapped on the partygoers and they’d all be hauled into jail.

  It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but still, Dani was thankful that she’d avoided the humiliation and embarrassment of calling her mother from the county jail.

  Eventually, the music was turned off, the voice on the bullhorn faded away, and the noise of engines being started carried up to the ridge. Soon, even the sounds of cars leaving the old Mason place gave way to the gentle stillness of the night.

  They didn’t move, but stayed astride the bike, hearts pounding. Dani could barely breathe. A bat flew overhead and an owl hooted softly before Brandon, satisfied that they wouldn’t be overheard, climbed off the bike. He walked to the edge of the ridge and looked at the quiet waters of Elkhorn Lake, shimmering with the reflection of thousands of stars.

  “I thought you were smarter than that,” he finally said as he kicked a pebble over the cliff edge and listened to it tumble ever downward, bouncing along the ledges of rock and dirt.

  “Than what?”

  “Than me.” He closed his eyes a second. “Whatever you do, Dani, don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

  “You survived.”

  “I was lucky.”

  She held back the fear that something horribly wrong was happening, that he was working up to something more devastating than being caught at a party. Though she didn’t want to know, she’d always been a person who faced trouble straight on. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice shaking a little. “Brand?”

  He came to her then and kissed her long and hard, his body flexing against hers in desperation, his hands tangling in her hair. “Dani, Dani, Dani,” he whispered as his lips molded over hers. “Oh, Dani, I love you.”

  She tingled at the words and all her reservations fled. She kissed him back with a renewed hunger, wanting to give, hoping to take, feeling his fingers against her skin, anxious and strong, as they tugged off her clothes. Kissing, touching, caressing, while the night breeze skimmed her bare skin. He kicked off his boots as she tore at his clothes. He pressed hot lips against her neck, her breasts, her legs, and she writhed in anticipation, his fever infecting her as they finally joined, his hard body thrusting into her moistness, penetrating her body and soul, lifting her above the pine trees to the starry night where the constellations seemed to blur and dance behind her eyes. Clinging to him, moving to his wild, desperate rhythm, she felt the world spin off its axis and her body convulse against his. He fell against her, breathing hard, whispering words of love, holding her as if he’d never let go.

  “I love you, Dani. Believe me,” he said, gasping as he rolled over on his back onto a rough bed of pine needles. He cradled her head next to his, his muscles strident, his fingers gently caressing her chin.

  “I love you, too, Brand,” she said, happier than she’d been in all her life. She gazed up at the moon and smiled.

  He hesitated, then his arms around her tightened. “And that’s what makes this so difficult.”

  “Difficult?” she repeated, fear drumming in her heart. “What?”

  He hesitated, then blurted, “I have to leave.”

  “Leave? Now? Where?” she asked, laughing, though her nerves were suddenly stretched thin. She heard the sound of doom in his voice. “You mean go home, right?”

  “I mean leave Oregon. For good.”

  “And go where?” she asked, panic taking over. Surely he was just kidding her, but the pain on his face convinced her that something was very, very wrong.

  “California. L.A. I’ve been offered a job.”

  “But you have a job here—”

  “A dead-end job, Dani. I need to start somewhere new.”

  “No!” She tried to pull away from him, but he held tight, anticipating her reaction. “No! No! No!”

  “Shhh. Just listen.”

  “That’s why you had to come and find me, that’s why you had to drag me up here and . . . and make love to me one last time?”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Bull!” She struggled, writhing like a wounded snake, but the hands around her were steel manacles, holding her fast. “You knew this was going to happen! You knew and you let me fall in love with you!” Anger shot through her and she wanted to scream, to kick, to curse the fates, to pound his chest in frustration.

  “I didn’t count on falling in love with you.”

  “Love? You love me?” She flung her hair out of her eyes. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t leave me!”

  He swallowed hard and his eyes shimmered in the darkness. She was lying atop him, her hair falling around her face in tangled waves, her naked chest heaving with each painful breath. “I don’t have a choice, Dani. What do you expect me to do? Stay here, a bastard known by everyone in the county, work for Red the rest of my life, barely scratch out a decent wage because no one else will give me a break?”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Can’t you understand that I have to start over and make something of myself, something better than being Venitia Scarlotti’s mistake?”

  She gasped. “You’re not a mistake. You’re wonderful. You’re everything—”

  “Stop it, Dani. Don’t,” he begged, and his voice, already hoarse, cracked. “Don’t you know how hard this is for me?”

  “Oh, please, no,” she whispered, trembling, cold from the inside out. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard a voice telling her that if she loved him, really loved him, she would let him go. Love held no one prisoner and she had too much pride to beg—even for Brandon. A roar filled her head, a desperate roar not unlike surf crashing against cliffs. “Then go,” she heard herself saying as she tried to roll off him. “Just leave.”

  “Not this way.”

  “Brand, please, if you have to go, just do it.” Tears were running down her face and she fought against breaking down altogether. “Please. Don’t drag it out.”

  “You’re right,” he said, but kissed her one last time. That was her undoing. Her throat closed in on itself. They made love all night long in the forest above the shores of Elkhorn Lake. Tenderly. Desperately. Knowing that it was over.

  She watched him leave in the gray light of dawn and suffered her mother’s pained expression and lecture for making her worry. And she never told him she was pregnant, nor did she ever breathe his name to another living soul. She would never tie him down, never force him into a life he didn’t want.

  She took extra credits, graduated early, left Rimrock for a while, and with the ever-present help of Jonah McKee, gave up Brand’s baby to a nameless couple who, she was assured, would give him everything he needed or wanted in life—especially a loving mother and father.

  Gifts she could never provide.

  And she never expected to see Brandon Scarlotti again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  So now Brand had returned, acting as if nothi
ng had happened between them, literally planting himself on her doorstep. Dani glanced down at the rental agreement and the check in her hands. She could tear them both up, tell Max she’d changed her mind and Brand to take a hike, but what good would that do?

  He couldn’t hurt her again. Or could he?

  If you let him, Dani. Only if you let him.

  When he’d left Dawson City, she’d been bereft. Heart-broken. Certain that he’d write or call. She’d planned to take off after him, once he settled down. But as the weeks passed and she hadn’t heard a word from him, she’d finally faced the painful fact that it was over, even though she’d been pregnant with his child.

  She’d been scared, her life turned inside out. Her mother had been shocked, her knees nearly giving way when Dani, stuttering, had confided in her.

  “What—oh, God, no,” she’d whispered, tears starring her lashes. “Dani, are you certain?”

  From that point on, Irene had been a pillar of strength, but Dani had been forced to rely on her mother and Jonah McKee to make everything work.

  Giving up her son had been the most difficult task she’d ever faced. No amount of telling herself it was for the best ever chased away the guilt. But from the point that a nurse had taken away her son and left her with suddenly empty arms, Dani had become determined and strong, her own person. She planned to get on with her life and try to close her mind to the past, never letting another man near her. Until Jeff. A good-time cowboy type with an easy smile and a carefree live-for-the-moment attitude, he’d been the antithesis of Brandon, a man who wasn’t the least bit threatening.

  On a whim, they’d married. But their quick elopement to Reno had been the start of the deterioration of their relationship. Jeff hadn’t been suited to married life. The responsibilities were too heavy and Dani’s need for children scared him. He found other women and she divorced him. They left on speaking terms, and once again she promised herself that she’d never get involved with another man. She’d dedicate her life to the ranch, and as soon as she was on her feet, she’d adopt a child, if not a baby, then an older boy or girl. It didn’t matter. And she’d locate her own boy, wherever he was.