Carnal Innocence (28 page)

She was still on her knees when he spoke.

“God led me to you.” The smile seemed to tear his face, like a rip through tattered burlap. “I understood His will. You were with him, I saw you with him, and you’re to be sacrificed.” He turned the knife blade in the sunlight as he approached the porch. “Like Edda Lou. It has to be just like Edda Lou.”

Like a runner coming off the mark, Caroline pushed herself from her knees and slammed through the back door. She shoved it to, turned the bolt. The oven timer went off with a buzz that made her scream. Then Austin’s weight rammed against the wood and set her numb legs free.

She didn’t think. Fueled by instinct, she snatched up her grandfather’s Colt on her flight from the kitchen. She needed to get to the car, but even as she raced through the house, she heard the old kitchen door give way with a splinter of wood.

And she remembered that the gun she held in her slippery hand was empty.

Sobbing, she barreled through the front door, digging in her pocket. Bullets sprayed out of her sweaty fingers and she nearly lost her footing on the steps. She stumbled, righted herself, and saw that all four tires on her car had been slashed.

Austin swung open the screen door. “You can’t run from the will of God. You are His instrument. An eye for an eye, saith the Lord.”

But Caroline was already fleeing toward the swamp. Another bullet squirted out of her fingers like wet soap to be lost in the grass. Her scream was no more than a harsh breath of air.

“Stop it, stop it!” she ordered her shaking hands as she fought to get one bullet, then two into the chamber. “Oh, God, please.” She was nearly to the trees, nearly there, and there was shelter and terror behind them. One desperate look over her shoulder, and he was less
than two armspans behind her. With tears blurring her vision, she turned and fired.

The gun clicked on empty. And he smiled.

“Today you are the lamb of God.” The knife arched up, glistening silver death. Caroline saw more than madness in his eyes. She saw a terrible glory.

Then Useless shot out like a small gold bullet and latched his puppy teeth into Austin’s calf. Austin howled more in fury than pain. It took only one kick to send the dog lying bonelessly on the grass.

“Dear God,” Caroline prayed, and with the gun braced in both hands, fired again. This time the kick knocked her limp body back. She lay stunned staring at the horrible red stain that bloomed over Austin’s dirty white shirt.

His smile was back, a rictus of a grin. He took another step toward her, the knife held high.

“Please, please, please,” Caroline whimpered as the gun jerked in her hand again. With numbed horror she saw his face disappear. His big, brawny body twitched. To her terror-frozen brain, it seemed he was still coming, still walking implacably toward her. She scrambled back, screams hitching in her throat, heels digging furrows in the grass.

The knife fell at her feet, and Austin followed it.

Tucker skidded to a stop on the gravel drive. While his heart slammed in his throat, he watched Caroline weaving across the lawn, carrying the puppy. Beyond her he could see Austin sprawled facedown, and the blood staining the grass.

“He kicked my dog,” was all she said, and moved by him into the house.

“Jesus Christ, Burke.”

“I’ll take care of this out here.” Burke holstered his gun and exchanged it for his walkie-talkie. “Go on in with her. See that she stays inside until this is done.”

Tucker found her in the parlor, sitting in the rocker with the dazed dog across her lap.

“Honey.” He crouched down beside her, stroking her face, her hair. “Honey, did he hurt you?”

“He was going to kill me.” She kept rocking, afraid if she stopped she’d go mad. “With the knife. He could have shot me, but he had to do it with the knife. Like Edda Lou, he said.” The dog began to stir and whine in her lap. Caroline lifted him up against her breast like a baby. “It’s all right now. It’s all right.”

“Caroline, Caroline, look at me, honey.” He waited until she turned her head. Her pupils were so dilated, the irises were hardly more than a green aura around them. “I’m going to take you upstairs. Come on now, I’ll carry you up and call the doctor.”

“No.” She let out a long breath as Useless licked her chin. “I’m not going to be hysterical. I’m not going to fall apart. I fell apart in Toronto. All kinds of pieces. Not again.” She swallowed, pressing her cheek against the dog’s fur. “I was making corn bread. I’d never made corn bread before. Happy gave me her recipe, and I was going to take it over to Susie’s. It feels so good being a part of this place.” Useless licked away a tear that trickled down her cheek. “You see, I thought I was coming here just to be alone, but I didn’t know how much I needed to be a part of something.”

“It’s going to be all right,” he said helplessly. “I promise it’s going to be all right.”

“I was making corn bread in my grandmother’s oven. And I shot Austin Hatinger with my grandfather’s gun. Do you think that’s strange?”

“Caroline.” He cupped her face. She could see the streaks of violence and fury in his eyes that he so carefully filtered out of his voice. “I’m just going to hold you for a while, is that all right?”

“All right.”

She let her head rest on his shoulder when he picked her up. Saying nothing, he carried both her and the pup to the couch and cradled them there. They both ignored the phone when it rang.

“I’m going to stay here tonight,” he told her. “Down here on the couch.”

“I’m not falling apart, Tucker.”

“I know, darlin’.”

She let out a sigh. “The oven timer’s still buzzing.” She bit her lip to try to steady her voice. “I guess I burned the corn bread.”

She turned her face into his shoulder and wept.

C
aroline came downstairs feeling hollowed-out by the aftereffects of shock and sleeping pills. She had no idea what time it was, only that the sun was strong and her house was quiet as a tomb.

It was already sultry. Even the thin cotton robe seemed too heavy and hot against her skin. She thought she’d take her coffee iced—in her car. With the air-conditioning running. She’d killed a man.

That single raw fact had her stopping at the base of the stairs, her fist pressed against her heart like a runner catching her wind after a punishing sprint. And like a runner’s, her legs went rubbery so that she sat on the landing, propping her head in her hands.

She had pumped two bullets into flesh, exchanging her life for another’s. Oh, she knew it was a matter of self-defense. Even without Burke’s gentle questions and quiet support, she knew that. Some circuit in Austin Hatinger’s brain had snapped and caused him to turn on her.

But circumstances didn’t change the result. She’d taken a life. She, whose most violent act had been
throwing a champagne flute against the wall in the Hilton Hotel in Baltimore, had ripped two .45 slugs into a man she’d never even had a conversation with.

It was a big leap, she thought, rubbing her hands over her face. And maybe her legs were a little shaky after landing, but she’d discovered something else about herself.

She could live with it.

She would not search for a way to put the blame on herself. She would not agonize over how she could have avoided, prevented, or changed the outcome. That was the old Caroline’s weakness, that delusion of self-importance that had made her believe she had the right, the responsibility, the
power
to bear all burdens— whether it was a performance, her mother’s needs, a lover’s deceit. Or a madman’s violent death.

No, Caroline Waverly was not going to listen to that sneaky little voice that crept inside her brain to whisper about blame and fault and mistakes.

She rose, turning toward the kitchen before the scratching at the front door had her heart doing a cartwheel. Even as the scream tickled the back of her throat, she recognized Useless’s whimpering. The scream died to a puff of air as she stepped forward to open the door.

Fevered with gratitude, the dog rushed in to make desperate jumps around her, his tail slicing the air in his delight and relief.

“What were you doing out there?” She bent to scratch his ears and accept his loyal licks of affection. “How’d you get outside?”

He yipped, scrambling around her legs, feet skidding in a search for traction on the polished hardwood before he dashed off to the parlor.

“Is this like a Lassie thing?” Caroline asked as she followed him. “I hope you’re not taking me to where Timmy’s fallen down the well or …” She trailed off, spotting Useless sitting smugly on the floor beside the sofa. And Tucker, bare-chested, bare-footed, sprawled over it.

He didn’t look innocent in sleep, she noted. There was simply too much wit and wickedness in his face for that. But he did look decidedly uncomfortable. His feet hung over one end of the two-seater sofa, and his neck was crinked to accommodate the curve between cushion and arm. His arms were folded across his belly, less for dignity, Caroline decided, than for the fact that he hadn’t been able to find any other space for them. Despite the awkward position and the stream of sunlight falling directly in his eyes, his chest rose and fell gently with deep, even breathing.

She’d forgotten he’d stayed, but it came flooding back to her now. How kind he’d been, how tenderly he’d held her while she’d cried out her shock. And the quiet strength he’d offered just by holding her hand while Burke questioned her.

Tucker had been the one to take her up to bed, sliding over her protests as patiently as a father guiding an overtired child. He’d sat with her while the sleeping pill had trickled through her bloodstream. And to chase away those last shadows of fear, he’d remained on the side of the bed, her hand in his, and had told her some silly story about his cousin Ham who ran a used-car dealership in Oxford.

The last thing she remembered was something about a ’72 Pinto that had dropped its transmission five feet out of the lot, and a dissatisfied customer with a five-gauge.

She felt the lock on her heart snick open, and sighed.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Tucker?”

Useless perked up at the name, then leapt up to bathe Tucker’s face. Tucker grunted, shifted. “Okay, honey. In a minute.”

Amused, Caroline stepped closer. “I hope it’s worth the wait.”

Tucker’s lips curved as he reached out to cuddle the dog. “It’s always worth …” His hand slid down the dog’s back to the gleefully swinging tail. Slowly, his lashes fluttered up and he studied the furry face grinning into his. “You’re not quite what I had in mind.”

Undiscouraged, Useless scrambled his hind legs until he’d gained Tucker’s chest. Tucker gave the dog’s head an absent scratch, then closed his eyes again. “Didn’t I put you out once?”

“He wanted back in.”

Tucker’s eyes opened again, and pushing Useless’s face out of his, he focused on Caroline. The sleepy look was gone quickly, she noted, and understood she was being carefully measured.

“Hey.”

“Good morning.” When he shifted his hip, she accepted the invitation and sat. “I’m sorry we woke you.”

“I figured on getting up sometime today anyway.” He reached up to stroke a fingertip down her cheek. “How you doing?”

“I’m all right. Really. I want to thank you for sticking around.”

He winced a little as he straightened his neck. “I can sleep anywhere.”

“So I see.” Touched, she brushed the hair off his brow. “It was sweet of you, Tucker. I’m grateful.”

“I’m supposed to say I was just being neighborly.” He caught her hand when she started to draw it back. “But the fact is you had me worried sick. You didn’t have a lick of color when you finally went off to sleep.”

“I’m steadier now.” She wished she’d checked the mirror to see if she looked steadier. “You could have used the spare bed upstairs.”

“I thought about it.” But when he’d checked on her—for the fourth or fifth time during the night—he’d also thought about slipping into bed with her. Just to hold her, just to keep her close and satisfy himself that she was safe. That had shaken him enough that he’d needed to have the full story laid out between them. Now he needed the simplicity of closeness.

“Come here.”

She hesitated, then gave in to the urge to curl up beside him. With her head pillowed against his shoulder and the dog stretched across their legs, she sighed.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker.”

“No, Tucker.”

He brushed his lips over her head. “I gotta get this out, Caroline. It gave me some hard hours through the night. He wouldn’t have come after you if it weren’t for me. It was me he wanted, and me who put you in the middle.”

She laid a hand over his heart, wondering if she’d ever felt more comforted, more safe. “I used to think that way about things. That I was at the center, and whenever anything went wrong, I was to blame for it. It’s an indulgent kind of arrogance, I think. The kind that carves holes in you that you have to fill up with pills and therapy. Don’t change on me, Tucker. I’m starting to find your day-to-day way of looking at things appealing.”

“It scared me.” When his arms tightened around her, she curved into him to give comfort as well as take it. “Nothing’s ever scared me more than hearing those shots and knowing I was too far away.”

“I’ve been scared before, so many times. As horrible as this is, it’s really the first time I’ve done anything about my fear.” Her hand fisted, and she slowly, deliberately, relaxed it again. “I’m not glad it happened, Tucker, and I guess I’ll always remember what it was like to pull that trigger. But I can deal with it.”

He stared at dust motes dancing in a sunbeam. There were things he’d never forget either. Like the numb terror of racing over a fallow field with shots echoing in his head. Like the glassy-eyed shock on her face when she’d walked by him to carry the limp dog into the house.

“I’m no hero, Caroline. Christ knows, I don’t want to be one, but I’m going to see to it that nothing bad happens to you again.”

She smiled. “That’s a broad and daring ambition,” she began, and tilted her head back to look at him. There was no answering smile in his eyes, and when he took her chin, his fingers were tense.

“You’re important to me.” He said the words slowly,
as if explaining them to himself. “Nobody’s ever been as important, and that’s hard.”

The air was clogging in her lungs, the way it often did when she stood on a darkened stage, the moment before the spotlight found her. “I know. I guess it’s hard for both of us.”

He saw the shadow of fear in her eyes, though she kept them steady and level on his. And because she was important, because everything about her had suddenly become vitally important, he struggled to lighten his tone.

“It sure is a new one for me.” His tensed fingers relaxed to stroke her jaw. “Here I am all wrapped up in a woman and I haven’t even managed to get her clothes off yet. This gets around, my reputation’s going to suffer.”

“Why don’t you try it now?”

His finger froze on her cheek. “What’s that?”

“I said, why don’t you try it now.” With her eyes still full of fears and needs and doubts, she lifted her lips to his.

He felt himself sink into her, and that, too, was a change. That slow, lovely drift into sweetness. There was no hot punch of lust that he had always accepted so easily. Instead, there was a gentle shift of sensation, as subtle as a sky lightening toward dawn.

As her body yielded against his, as her breathy sigh slipped intimately from her mouth to his, he understood that she was offering him more than passion. She was giving him her trust. It humbled him. It disturbed him. She was not the kind of woman to offer anything to a man casually. And he—he had always taken whatever a woman chose to give with an easy grin and no backward looks.

“Caroline.” He brushed his fingers over her cheeks, combed them through her hair. “I want you.”

His heart drummed fast and hard against hers. The quiet seriousness of his statement made her smile even as his lips cruised over her face. “I know.”

“No, I mean I really want you.” The robe had slipped off her shoulder, and he let his lips wander to
that warm, sweet curve. “I guess I’ve been waiting for you to give me the go-ahead since about thirty seconds after I met you.”

Her body trembled and arched under his. Why were they talking? Why were there words when she wanted only to feel? “I know that, too.”

“It’s just that …” Her throat was so white, so smooth. It wasn’t in him to resist it. “I haven’t been exactly discreet when it comes to women.”

She skimmed her hands over his bare back, exploring that intriguing ripple of muscle. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I don’t want you to regret this.” He rubbed his cheek against hers before he drew away. His eyes were dark with emotions she was afraid to consider. “I don’t think I could stand it if you did.”

“You’re the last person I expected to complicate this.”

“It surprises the hell out of me, too.” His fingers curled tight in her hair. “It’s not simple with you, Caroline. I figured I ought to try to explain that.”

He didn’t have to explain what she could see so clearly in his eyes. And seeing it had the little licks of fear leaping higher. “I don’t want any explanations.” Desperate, she dragged his mouth back to hers. “I’m alive. I just need to feel alive.”

Her needs swallowed him, pulled him under, sucked him in. She wanted from him what he had always looked for in other women—simple, mutual pleasure. If there was a twinge of regret, he ignored it. Responding to her urgency, he tugged open her robe and feasted on flesh. She was slim and pale and soft as velvet. And if she was not just any woman, not just another woman, he blocked off those troubling thoughts and let himself take.

She streaked mindlessly into heat, gobbling up his desire like a starving woman might devour a crust of bread. Hers was only a body seeking pleasure from another body. No thoughts, she swore. No emotions. She needed the sensations, the liberation of good,
cleansing sex. Her cry of release when he drove her to a hard, knife-edged orgasm left her trembling.

She could hear his harsh, strained breathing even as his hands began to slow, to gentle. He murmured something to her, and though she didn’t understand the words, the sweetness of the tone had her battling back an urge to wrap herself around him and weep.

The emotions sneaking through terrified her. She wanted none of them and moved quickly, even ruthlessly, to block them off. Even as his lips whispered over hers, she was dragging his jeans-down over his hips. His body went rigid as she touched him, fisted him in a hot, greedy hand. The room tilted, and while he struggled to right it again, she locked herself around him.

“Caroline. Wait.”

But she was already surrounding him, already drawing him deep into that glorious velvet sheath, already urging him to match her frantic rhythm.

He was trapped in her, in his own body’s demands. So he raced with her toward a release he already realized would be empty.

She lay very still, her robe rucked up under her hips. She did feel alive. Sore and swollen and trembly and alive. If only she didn’t feel so hollow with it.

If only he would say something. If only he would lift his head and grin and make some silly joke to put this awkwardness behind them.

But the silence dragged on. His heartbeat slowed to normal against hers, and the silence dragged on.

He knew he was heavy, but he put off shifting his body from hers, put off the moment when he would have to face her. And himself.

Good sex, he thought. Yes, it had been good, basic sex, minus all those insidious and baffling emotions. Smart sex, he thought with some disgust. There was no reason for him to feel … used was the word, he realized, and wished he could laugh it off.

Was this why Edda Lou had been so bitter at the
end? he wondered. With a sigh he opened his eyes and stared out at the empty room. No, Edda Lou hadn’t cared about him. About his money, his name, his position, but not about him. Sex had been a means to an end for her.