Dark Paradise (29 page)

We'd love to have you join us. Bring your guitar if you like. There'll

be some music people there. Could be an opportunity for you."

Marilee felt she was straddling the fence metaphorically as well as

physically, caught between two very different factions of acquaintances.

She could feel a dozen pair of eyes on her like spotlights. The one pair

she didn't feel was J.D.'s, and the absence was somehow weightier than

all the other stares combined.

"Thank you for the invitation," she mumbled, her voice little more than

a whisper. "I'd love to."

She ignored the feeling that she was betraying Rafferty.

She didn't owe him any allegiance. She owed Lucy. And the dark-haired

man sitting on a bay horse had once known Lucy MacAdam very well indeed.

Ben Lucas, king turd on the Sacramento shit pile of trial attorneys.

Marilee knew him by sight, and she knew him by reputation. What she

didn't know was what the hell he was doing with Evan Bryce.

"We'll look forward to seeing you tonight, then."

Bryce. started to rein his horse around, pulling up as his gaze fell on

Will. "Mmm, my, this is a little awkward," he said, feigning

embarrassment. "You would be welcome too, of course, Mr. Rafferty, but

as your ex-wife will be there, I think this could be uncomfortable for

Samantha. You understand."

Will said nothing, his gaze fixed on Sam, willing her to look at him.

She turned the other way. Ex-wife. Ex-wife.

The word flashed in his head like a red neon light. They weren't

divorced . . . yet. Was that how Sam thought of him?
 
As her ex-husband?

J.D. sat like a sentinel at the back of Bryce's cadre, showing them the

figurative door. He watched impassively as Bryce led the way, saying

nothing until Samantha started past him. He tipped his head and spoke

her name. She ducked behind the cover of her curtain of hair, avoiding

his eyes. He tightened his jaw and turned to Orvis Slokum, who was

fumbling with the lead of the pack mule, getting himself hopelessly

tangled.

Orvis had been born a loser and gone downhill from there. He was scrawny

and grubby with a ferret's face, thin hair, and bad teeth, and no matter

if he meant well, he always managed to do the wrong thing. He had been a

screw-up as a ranch hand and piss-poor robber. Still, J.D. wished he

had had more dignity than to take up with the likes of Bryce.

"Sad to see you come to this, Orvis," he sighed, as if even prison were

preferable.

Orvis fumbled some more with the lead rope, his horse getting nervous

as the rest of its stablemates headed back for the trail. Not liking the

horse bumping against him, the pack mule pinned its long ears and tried

to bite the brown gelding, narrowly missing Orvis's skinny leg.

Orvis split his attention between the contrary mule and his former

employer, not quite sure which one scared him more. "Sorry you feel that

way, Mr. Rafferty," he mumbled. "Mr. Bryce, he pays real good."

The mule pinned its ears and raised up a little on its hind legs. The

horse hopped up and down. Orvis turned gray, eyes bugging out of his

head. The lead rope seemed like a live tentacle wrapping itself around

him. "Whoa, mule!
 
Whoa!"

Rolling his eyes, J.D. leaned over and jerked the rope away, untangling

it with a flick of his wrist. "There's more important things in this

world than money, Orvis."

As he tossed the rope back to Orvis, the mule bolted and ran after its

pals. Orvis wheeled his horse around, nearly falling off, and galloped

away in hot pursuit, one hand clamped on top of his head to keep his

bedraggled hat from flying off.

J.D. shook his head and turned back to his own people. Lyle and his two

boys and Chaske were halfway to the house. Tucker hung back, looking

uncertain. J.D.'s concern was with the two who remained rooted to their

spots.

Will roused himself and climbed through the bars of the fence. He turned

toward the house, but his gaze was fixed on his shiny red and white

pickup. He wanted to get out, away, go anywhere his wife wasn't and his

brother wasn't and people didn't look at him with pity or contempt. The

Hell and Gone came to mind.

He would go to the Hell and Gone and in a little while he wouldn't be

wondering why the sight of his wife riding around with Evan Bryce and

company made him feel as if he'd been dropped on his head from ten

stories up.

He wanted out of the marriage. He should have been glad to see her out

living it up. What he needed was a drink or two to numb the shock and

then he would be able to think straight again. Maybe he'd go downstairs

to Little Purgatory and play a hand of stud while his mind stewed on

what to do about this latest turn of events.

J.D. cut off his escape route to the truck. "We got a big problem here,

little brother," he said in a soft, dangerous voice.

"Drop it, J.D." In his own head he sounded twelve all over again, a

shaky layer of false bravado over a mess of anger and fear. He didn't

look up. He didn't blink. His eyes were burning. He clenched his fists

at his sides and caught himself wishing, as he had wished back then,

that he were able to beat the tar out of J.D., just for the sake of

doing it. But J.D. had always been bigger, stronger, better, smarter.

"Just drop it. Please." It nearly crushed him to add that last weight to

his humiliation, but he did it. He ground his teeth and waited, not

breathing again until J.D. backed his horse away and let him pass.

J.D. watched him climb into the pickup and tear out of the yard, then

turned his attention to Marilee. She still sat atop the fence, looking

like a waif in her faded jeans and too-big denim shirt, the wind

inciting her wild hair to riot. Her big blue eyes were locked on his

face, and he steeled himself against their effect.

"Bryce a friend of yours?" he asked carefully.

"I wouldn't call him that, no. We've met."

"And you'll go drink his champagne and rub elbows with his famous

friends?"

"For my own reasons."

His gray eyes narrowed. She thought he was probably trying to look

tough, blank, uncaring, but she thought she could feel his

disappointment, and it meant more to her than it should have.

He shook his head. "You need to hang out with a better class of losers,

Marilee."

He picked his reins up and rode off toward the barn, leaving Marilee

sitting on the proverbial fence. She watched him go, cussing herself for

caring What he thought. Behind her, the cattle bawled incessantly, the

noise making it impossible for her to think straight. At least that was

the excuse she chose as she climbed down off the rail and headed to the

barn.

J.D. left the mare in the cross ties and walked out the end of the barn.

From there he could see nothing but wilderness. Mountains, trees, sky,

grass laced with wildflowers.

It was a view that usually soothed him. He looked at it now and felt as

if he were seeing it for the last time.

Something like fear snaked through him, a feeling so unfamiliar, so

unwelcome, he refused to recognize it for what it was. But he couldn't

do anything to stop its catalysts from hurling through his mind. Bryce's

smiling face was branded into the backs of his eyes as surely as the

Rafter T was burned into the hides of his cattle. Bryce, grinning like

the goddamn Cheshire cat, as if he had a fifth ace. And, by Christ, he

did, didn't he?
 
He had Samantha.

He blinked like a man in deep physical pain, rubbed his hands over his

face, and swore a litany of curses under his breath. What the hell could

he do?
 
He couldn't stop Lyle from selling his land. He couldn't stop

Samantha from seeing who she wanted. He couldn't stop Will from running

off half-cocked to do who knew what fool thing next. He couldn't do a

damn thing. The wolves were closing in and he couldn't do a goddamn

thing to stop them. The knowledge shook him right to the core.

Marilee stood in the shadows just inside the barn, holding her breath,

caught between stepping out and sliding away. She had little doubt J.D.

would not appreciate her intrusion on the moment. He stood there with

his hands braced on a section of split rail fence, looking out over an

open meadow. The naked vulnerability in his face struck her like a

physical blow. It was like seeing the Lone Ranger unmasked and realizing

he was just a regular man. She wanted to reach out to him, to offer him

a touch, some comfort. She knew instinctively he wouldn't want it, and

that knowledge made her heart ache.

Oh, Marilee, what are you getting yourself into here?

Trouble with a capital J.D.

She moved backward down the aisle on tiptoe, then coughed loudly and

came ahead, scuffing her feet on the cement as she went. When she

reached the end of the barn again, J.D. was trying to settle his

iron-man mask back in place. He cleared his throat and shot her a scowl.

"Thought you were leaving."

"Can't go anywhere without Clyde," she said, catching herself dropping

her pronouns as if she had lived there her whole life.

"Who-?
 
Oh, the mule." He made no move toward barn, just stood there

leaning against the fence, pretending nothing at all was the matter.

"I'm not much for parties as a rule," Marilee said, stepping up beside

him. She tried to mirror his stance and found herself staring at a fence

rail. Undaunted, she climbed up onto the lowest bar and hooked her arms

over the top, a position that put her eye level with Rafferty. "I don't

like much of anything I have to shave my legs for."

"So don't go."

"I'm just curious about a couple of things, that's all. I had sort of

lost touch with Lucy since she moved here. I'm curious about the crowd

she ran with."

"So go see them," J.D. growled. "Do what you like."

"It's not a matter of what I like. Lucy left me everything she had in

the world. I feel a certain obligation."

J.D. sniffed, dry amusement kicking up one corner of his mouth. He knew

all about obligation. He clung to his while the world came apart around

him.

"Has Bryce asked you about selling yet?" he said.

"Not really."

"He will." He turned and studied her, his eyes narrowed. "Will you sell

it?"

"I don't know."

"He's a ruthless, obnoxious little son of a bitch who doesn't give a

damn about anything but getting what he wants."

Marilee arched a brow. "I could say the same thing about you - except the

little part."

He didn't bat an eye. At that moment it was difficult to reconcile the

image before her with the one she'd seen from the shadows. This man

didn't look as if he had ever been afraid in his life. He looked like

bullets would bounce off his chest.

"Will you sell it to me?" he asked bluntly.

"I told you, I haven't decided to sell it at all."

He stepped over and very deliberately planted a hand on either side of

her on the rail. Marilee twisted around to face him, her heart beating a

little harder as he leaned close. His gaze held hers like a deer in

headlights.

"Don't play games with me, Marilee," he warned.

"I'm not interested in games," she whispered her heart pounding harder

behind her breastbone.

For a moment J.D. looked into those big deep blue eyes, looking for

lies, looking for reasons not to trust.

Then he felt as if he were drowning in them, and lies and Bryce and

everything else went right out of his head. Losing himself seemed a

welcome option at the moment. He pressed his lips over hers and