Buried Secrets (New Adult Dark Suspense Romance) (20 page)

Except she hadn’t planned on a lot of things. Things like falling in love with Shane. Oh, no, falling in love had been the last thing on her mind. That wasn’t part of the plan at all.

She’d been sitting there, she didn’t know how long, watching Shane sleep.

What if I’m wrong?

What if he doesn't know?

Whatifwhatif...

Now, with the gun in her hand and the threats forming on the tip of her tongue, she felt afraid—afraid he would call her bluff and, if he did, anything might happen.

She was trapped by her own burning need to know. She’d set out to trap him, and it had been easy, using his desire for her. And the trap she’d set had trapped them both. He wasn’t going to tell her, she was sure of it. She had finally come right out and asked him and he had refused her. What else did she have to hold him now, to get him to tell her, except the piece of metal in her hand?

Did she need to know so badly? Why?

She didn’t even understand it herself. She just
needed
to know. And the man who could tell her was sleeping in the bed where they’d made love—four times—snoring quietly in the moonlight.

The man she loved.

When she’d first imagined this scenario, she could have easily pulled the trigger, but now?

Never.

Swallowing hard, watching him stir, she knew she was going to have to give the performance of her life.

“Dusty?” Shane sat up. Her heart fluttered in her chest as he stood and stretched. “Whatcha doing?”

“It's snowing.” She touched the gun and looked out the window.

“You're wearing my t-shirt again.” He sounded amused. It came to mid-thigh on her.

“I was cold.”

“I hope it doesn't storm.” He put his hands on her shoulders and bent to look out the window.

“Shane.” Dusty picked up the gun. He hadn’t seen it yet and it was now or never. He moved away from the window so he could see her face. “Who killed Nick?”

He took a startled step back. “Wha—what?”

“I know you know.” She turned and leveled the gun at him, straight-armed like she’d been taught, finger not on the trigger. She wouldn’t put it there, but he didn’t need to know that. Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces at the betrayed, hurt look on his face and still she kept the gun leveled at him, trying to think of her brother.

What happened, Nick? What happened that night?

Shane looked from the gun to her and back again, just his eyes. There was so much pain in them it took everything she had to hang onto the weapon in her hand, cool metal, trying her best not to show him how much her hands were trembling.

“Who killed him?” She knew she couldn’t back down now. It was too late for that. She had to go through with this.
She had to know.
It was time for her Academy Award winning performance. “If you don't tell me, I swear to God, I'm going to kill you.”

“Dusty, he was my best friend.” His voice never wavered but his eyes remained fixed on the gun. “You know I didn't kill him.”

“But you know something.” Dusty paused. Swallowed. “And you're going to tell me.”

“Listen, princess, you don’t have to be so dramatic.” He took a step toward her, a smile starting to turn up, and she gritted her teeth, trying to hang onto her resolve. “Come on… put it down and we'll—”

“
Stop!
”

She couldn’t let him anywhere near her or it would be all over.

She used the most commanding voice she could and saw him hesitate.

Uncertainty wavered in his eyes. Did he believe it? He had to believe it.

“If you move one more inch, I’ll blow your head off.”

He stilled. Only his eyes moved, from the gun, to her and back. She prayed he wouldn’t call her bluff—she only wanted to know. She
needed
to know.

And then he did just what she’d feared.

“Okay.” Shane gave up and threw his arms wide. “Go ahead, Dusty. Shoot me.”

Her mind-scissors had grown dull from use and memories flooded in, the thousands of times Nick had gone out with Shane and “the gang” instead of her, the
first
time Nick had gone off with Shane instead of her. She tried to hang onto that anger, that rage, that hate. But it was gone. She didn’t hate this man, not anymore, if she ever really had.

She loved him.

And she’d found the line between love and hate wasn’t just thin—it was razor sharp.

“Kill me.” Shane let his arms drop to his sides, defenseless. “If it solves anything for you, go ahead and do it.”

She hesitated in the pale light from the window and then he took a step toward her.

“Stop!” She couldn’t stand him coming close, knew it would break her.

Finally. Completely.

Memories flooded in but the current ones overtook the past—Shane in the closet at the funeral home, his tears, the way he wiped ketchup from her cheek, the image of him on the hood of the Mustang in the firelight, how gently he’d moved with her tonight…

Shane took another step toward her.

“Stop.” Dusty’s voice wavered. Every organ in her body fluttered—her heart, her belly, as if she was trying to take flight, escape from the inside out. “I mean it.”

“
Do
it.” He took the barrel of the gun and placed it against the hollow of his throat. That did it. She couldn’t stand it, seeing his eyes blazing, determined, almost as if he wanted her to do it, maybe had even expected this. “Shoot me.”

Dusty's eyes widened in horror as she looked at the pulse beating there beneath his skin, a place she had kissed and caressed and licked. What was she doing? What had she been thinking, bringing her brother’s gun, pointing it at Shane, demanding answers? What had she really hoped to accomplish?

Her madness broke like a fever and she gave a long, shuddering sob, but Shane had her hand, and he was forcing her finger toward the trigger.

“
Do it!”

And his eyes
pleaded with her to pull it.

“Shane, don't.” Dusty’s words were mere whispers. Her lips were cold. The words wouldn’t form.  His hand covered hers, the gun. “Stop it.”

“
DO IT!
” His finger moved over hers, there on the trigger, squeezing gently. “
DO IT!
”

“
STOP!
” Dusty pushed him away, pulling her own hands away from the gun at the same time. Shane caught it easily. Dusty covered her mouth with shaking hands, breath coming in short gasps, horrified as she looked at him hefting the gun.

She stared at it, resting in the palm of his hand, the barrel pointed toward her. She looked at him and his eyes glinted in the light.

“Nick's,” Shane noted. He clicked the safety and placed it on the dresser beside him, noticing his was gone. “Where’s mine?”

“My purse. I...” She was unable to say any more and she turned away. In the mirror mounted over the little dresser in the corner, she saw her own reflection, the moonlight throwing shadows, creating a dichotomy—light and dark.

Who was she? She didn’t know. The girl in the mirror wasn’t her, couldn’t be.

“Are you okay?” Shane’s soft, simple concern elicited her sobs.

“Hey.” He pulled her in to him. Dusty pressed herself against him fiercely, unable to fully comprehend the magnitude of what had happened—or had almost happened. He pulled her down onto the bed, rocking.

“I—” Dusty choked over her words, moving away from him on the bed. “I'm sorry. I’m so sorry… I never… I wouldn’t have…” 

“I know.” Shane's hand was on her hair, and that was all he said. It was all he had to say. Dusty's hands fell away. He did know. The understanding was in his eyes, his touch.

Finally, he said, “I knew what it came down to when I got involved with you. I don't even think you knew for sure yourself, but I knew. Either I was going to tell you or I was going to lose you. It was that simple.”

“You couldn't... you couldn't have known,” she breathed.

“I knew.” He lay back on the bed with a small groan, throwing an arm over his eyes. Dusty reached out and touched him with trembling hands. He peeked out at her and then let his arm drop away.

“Okay.” Shane drew a shaky breath. “Okay, you're right. I was with Nick that night. I know. I know who... what... killed him.”

She drew her knees up, pulling his t-shirt over them.

Shane sat and leaned back against the wall. “Sure you want to hear this?”

Dusty nodded, but she wasn’t sure now. Looking into his eyes, reading his expression, she wasn’t sure at all.

“I'll tell you.” He sighed. “But let's straighten something out first. I'm not telling you because of Nick, and I'm not telling you because you pulled a fucking gun on me.” He looked at it for a moment sitting on the dresser and shook his head, almost smiling.

Then he looked back at Dusty, reaching out, touching her arm, running his hand down to hers. “I'll tell you because I love you and it's eating you up inside.”

Dusty blinked at him but didn’t reply. He loved her? She realized, tears in her eyes, that revelation was far more important to her than anything he was about to say.

“And because it's eating me up too.” He swallowed. “You aren't going to believe me anyway—I wouldn't believe me if I were you. But I'll tell you.”

He took a deep breath, and then began.

Part Three

Redemption

✝
Chapter Seventee
n
✝

Shane kept the cabin a secret and for good reason. He didn’t want all his hard work destroyed by friends who liked to start phrases with, “Hey, watch this!” every time the
y got a little drunk. He’d put too much time and money into making it into the perfect getaway—and ultimately, he wanted to move out there. He wanted to live there. He’d just been waiting until he was done with school and it was ready. And, he admitted, until Nick went off to college.

Nick was the only one who knew it existed. He hadn’t even told his brother or his father—although the title was now in his name, thanks to a deal he’d made with his dad. Taxes on the property were cheap—no one thought it was livable. None of the gang knew about it. But Nick was different—Nick was his best friend.

When Shane picked Nick up to take him out to the path for his farewell party, he wasn’t even thinking about the cabin. He was thinking about how much he was going to miss Nick. He was thinking about how tired he was—he’d spent four days in the woods serving as a guide in the cold and rain with very little sleep.

And he was thinking about Dusty.

But he was always thinking about Dusty.

It was Nick who brought up the cabin, but in a sort of roundabout way.

“Shane, can you pull over?”

They weren’t even all the way down Jarvis yet. Mr. Cooper’s Irish Setter, Red, was lunging at the end of his chain barking madly at them. It made him remember Dusty and Casey Reardon’s Doberman and how she’d saved his skin that sunny afternoon. He remembered how he’d repaid her—by slinging an arm across her brother’s shoulder and turning away. In his confusion, he’d believed he was saving her reputation by changing the subject.

It turned out to be the worst thing he could have done.

“Where’s the beer?” Nick reached onto the floor of the Mustang, grabbing a six-pack and pulling a can off the tab. “I need a fucking drink.”

“You made me pull over for that?”

“No.” Nick popped open the can, taking a long swig. He took another can off, handing it to Shane. “Here. Join me. It will make everything better.”

Shane opened his beer, watching Nick finish his in several long gulps. Nick burped loudly, tossing the empty can on the floor and reaching for another one.

“God, you're one lucky son-of-a-bitch, Shane.” Nick opened his second beer. “You don't have to do anything but stay in this town and party for the rest of your life.”

“Spare me that fate.” Shane took a swig of his beer. The Irish Setter had calmed down. He was just sitting in the grass watching them. The sun was setting, making its fur look even redder.

“Hell, this little town isn't so bad,” Nick said softly.

Shane snorted. “Not if you're Nick Chandler, I guess. But if you're Shane Curtis, this little town makes Dante’s ninth circle look like Barnum and Bailey’s.”

“Life sucks sometimes, doesn't it?”

Shane agreed with him, finishing his beer. “So what’s this about?”

“I have something to tell you.” Nick groaned, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the seat. “I don’t think I can do this. I thought I could do this…”

“Do you want me to make it easy on you?”

Nick’s eyes opened and he looked over at his friend, blinking in surprise. “You know?”

“I know.”

“How long have you known?” Nick sounded like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him.

“Since we were kids, I guess.” Shane shrugged. What need was there to pretend? He’d suspected as much for a long, long time. “Did you tell anyone else?”

“No.” Nick shook his head. “This town…”

“Tell me about it.” Shane nodded, smiling grimly. “I’m glad you finally told me.”

“But…” Nick hesitated, frowning. “You never felt the same way?”

“Man, you know I love you.” Shane smiled and nudged his friend. “But I don’t pitch for that team.”

“I thought…” Nick laughed, shaking his head. “I thought you’d hate me if I told you. I thought everyone would hate me.”

Shane nodded. “Some might,” he agreed. “I don’t.”

“Well… thanks.” Nick sighed deeply, leaning back against the seat.

“She wouldn’t hate you either, you know,” Shane said after a moment.

“Who?”

Shane nudged him again. “You know who.”

“Oh hell.” Nick shook his head, frowning. “I fucked that up so bad. I love my sister, Shane… you know I do. But I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand seeing her with you.”

“Well, now she hates me.” Shane’s voice only caught the slightest bit. “And she doesn’t know the truth about her own brother. I’d say… yeah, I’d say it’s pretty fucked up.”

“I’m sorry.” Nick sighed. “I’m gonna do my best to try and fix it.”

“So you’re gonna tell her you’re gay?”

“Yeah.” Nick tipped up his beer. “I am.”

Shane crumpled his can and tossed it at their feet. “You can’t protect her forever. She’s not something you can lock up in some cage.”

Nick was silent and, to Shane, he seemed sad, tired and even a little bit ashamed.

Shane watched these emotions cross his friend’s face.

Finally Nick said, “I know... and I'm sorry. I wish now I
had
told her. I wish I’d just let things happen between you two, because I think I've hurt her more than anyone will ever hurt her in her life, and God knows I never meant to. But you have to understand how much...”

Nick looked down at the ground, shaking his head. “I was a kid. I didn’t even understand what I was feeling at first. And I thought, maybe, some day… you would…” He shrugged, meeting Shane’s eyes. “I loved you. I won’t apologize for that. I wanted you to love me back. I wanted you to love
me
, not
her
.”

“I know.” Shane kicked at the can at his feet, nudging it over to the passenger side. “Man, I’m sorry. You’re like a brother to me. You know that.”

“So… you’re not into incest either?” Nick grinned.

Shane laughed. “I’m into women, I’m afraid. And one in particular, even after all these years, sad as that is.”

“She’s in love with you too.” Nick’s voice cracked. “Always has been. Still is, Shane. That’s the truth.”

“She has a hell of a way of showing it,” Shane scoffed.

“I won’t be in the way anymore.” Nick leaned his head back and looked at the setting sun. “I promise you that.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late.” Shane glanced at him, swallowing hard.

“Maybe not. You won’t know if you don’t try.” Nick grabbed another beer.

“Water under the bridge.” Shane shrugged. “And she’ll be a little far away to be testing the waters.”

“She won’t be heading to U of M until January.”

“Quit playing matchmaker, all right?” Shane laughed, clapping Nick on the shoulder.

Nick grinned. “I can’t help it. I’m in love.”

Shane stared at him. “Uh…”

“Not you.” Nick laughed. “Well. It was you, for a long time. But not anymore. Funny how sometimes the person you were meant to be with was right in front of you the whole time and you never even noticed.”

“Who are we talking about?”

“Ryan,” Nick told him.

“Ryan.” Shane let this sink in.

“Listen, I have a favor to ask. A huge, huge favor.” Nick turned toward him, arm across the back of the seat. “Can I borrow the cabin tonight?”

Shane couldn’t speak.

“Please, man, you know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” he urged. “It’s our last chance to be together. We’re rooming at MSU together, I know, but we’ve got two other roommates and things are going to be… difficult. At least until we can get our own place.”

“When?”

“Tonight.” Nick grinned. “We’ll park out at the cemetery and take the ATV back. You still keep one under camo in the woods don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Shane agreed. He’d known about Nick, had known for a long time. But Ryan? He’d had no idea.

“Is that a yes?”

“Sure. Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll give you guys a ride out if you want.” Shane gave a slow nod. He didn’t like the idea of the rest of the gang knowing about the cabin—and if Ryan knew, everyone would know. But he couldn’t say no to Nick. He’d never seen him look so happy.

“No, Ryan’s bringing his car. I’m meeting him at the path.”

And that’s just how it happened. Shane pulled up to the bonfire at the path and Nick gave him a one-armed hug, heading off with Ryan, leaving Shane to make excuses. The guys were already out of beer and he suggested they all go to the Starlite. And that would have been the end of it. He would have gone to the bar, gotten drunker and continued to brood about what Nick had told him—not about being gay but about Dusty. He would spend the night thinking about her, knowing Nick was wrong about one thing—Dusty would never love him now. Nick had definitely put a stop to that.

That’s what would have happened, if he hadn’t forgotten about the key.

He’d stopped leaving it in the ATV several months ago when he discovered someone had been messing with it. He kept it well-hidden, but clearly leaving it there, even camouflaged with the key under the seat, was too tempting for the kids who took the shortcut behind the cemetery. No one had stolen it, but the tracks made it obvious someone had been around.

So he’d put the key on his ring.

It was twenty-five minutes on the ATV back to the cabin. It would take Nick and Ryan over an hour to make it on foot. He couldn’t let them walk in the dark. So he drove out to the cemetery where he knew Nick would tell Ryan to park, sure he could catch them in time to give them the key.

It turned out, he was too late.

It was over—or almost over—by the time he got there.

And if Nick hadn’t dared Ryan—or Ryan hadn’t dared Nick—it never would have happened at all. They would have skirted the cemetery like they were supposed to. Ryan said he couldn’t remember who dared who, but they were laughing, acting like little kids anyway—and going through the cemetery was shorter than going all the way around the wrought-iron fence that surrounded it.

They used to dare each other when they were kids—it was the best dare. Or worst, depending on your perspective. Cutting through the cemetery at night.

It was cool but not cold. Shane pulled the Mustang in next to Ryan’s little Honda, cutting the engine and quickly opening the door. He didn’t hear it, not at first. The wind was blowing the wrong direction. When it shifted, he first smelled something rotted, decaying—maybe a dead coon or opossum in the woods. Shane made a face, shutting the car door.

And then he heard it, carried on the down draft, over the crest of the first hill, a rising, strangled scream. He drew his weapon without even thinking about it, thankful the moon was full, reflecting off the rise of headstones. Shane reached the gate which, of course, was locked at night, trying to see what was happening, but whatever it was, it was out of the line of his sight. He put one foot on the first crossbar, eyeing the fence. It was only chest-high, but the spikes running across the top were pointed and sharp.

That’s when Ryan appeared at the top of the hill and Shane realized the strangled, high scream was coming from him. He only knew it was Ryan from a distance because he saw the glint of his glasses in the moonlight as he stumbled down the hill. He must have missed running into headstones by accident alone, rolling to a stop near the gate where Shane stood.

“It’s got him!” Ryan croaked, grabbing the fence and beginning to climb. “Fuck! Shane! It’s got him! It’s got him!”

“What’s—?” Shane couldn’t finish his sentence. Something appeared at the top of the hill. At first his mind simply couldn’t grasp what he was seeing. A man—once, perhaps—dressed comically in a three-piece suit. He got brief, split-second impressions.

Razor sharp teeth.

Claws.

Wild, white matted hair.

Then it gave a cry, like a war-whoop, something Shane would hear in his nightmares for the rest of his life, raising something in the air and waving it. He thought, at first, the thing was just waving, and then Shane realized it was, indeed, an arm.

It was Nick’s.

The man—thing—had Nick in its grip, dragging his disemboweled corpse behind him by the hair. The moon was bright, too bright—Shane saw everything. He saw the thing’s face open up—a mouth gaping wider than anything Shane had ever seen, pointed teeth dripping with saliva as it bared them.

“Mine!” That’s what it said. Shane knew he’d heard that clotted voice say, “Mine!” as it flipped Nick to the ground, just before its face opened up again and it buried its teeth into Nick’s mid-section. The bright moonlight showed the starkness of Nick's ribs as the thing stuffed innards into its mouth, swallowing. With one long claw, Nick's eyeball was popped out and tossed into its mouth. It chewed, eyes closed, savoring it as if it were a delicacy.

“Shane!” Ryan teetered at the top of the fence and he saw what was going to happen. He was poised precariously and was going to spear himself on one of those spikes. And then Shane would have two dead friends.