Final Scream (18 page)

“What? Now
you’re
going to shoot
me
when all I’m trying to do is save our sister’s honor. Give me a break!”

“Let Angie save herself.”

“Jesus, Cassidy, you cry when I shoot a squirrel or a raccoon or even a damned bird. You’re not going to put a bullet through me.”

“I will! I swear it, Derrick.” Her heart drummed in her chest. Sweat soaked her palms. Her fingers tightened over the trigger. “I will if you think you’re going to take after Brig with this shotgun and—ooh!”

He grabbed the barrel of the gun and wrenched it from her unwilling fingers. “You’re as bad as she is,” he growled. “Always sticking up for that low-life half-breed bastard. Now, just leave me alone.”

“You can’t—”

“Watch me!” He stalked out of the room and down the hall, but Cassidy was right on his heels. “The way I figure it, getting rid of McKenzie should make me some kind of hero around here. I’m doing you, me, Angie and the whole damned town a favor!”

“I’ll call Mom and Dad.”

“Go ahead.”

“And the police. If anything happens to Brig, I swear I’ll turn you in and—”

He whirled around and glared down at her with furious, red-rimmed eyes. His breath was a sour mixture of stale liquor and smoke. “You don’t seem to understand, do you? Brig Buchanan raped Angie.”

“Raped?” she said.

“You bet. You think she would want it with him?” Derrick’s face twisted in disgust.

“But she—”

“She flirted with him. She flirts with everybody. But she didn’t want to make it with Brig. He forced the issue.”

“I—I think it was the other way around,” Cassidy said. “I heard her and Felicity talking, and Angie told Felicity she planned on seducing Brig.”

“You’re lying,” he snarled, towering over her in all his fury.

“No, I’m not. If you don’t believe me ask Felicity.”

Derrick’s eyes thinned to angry slits. “She’s the last person I’d ask.”

“Then talk to Angie! She’d tell you.”

His nostrils trembled in rage. “She’d lie to protect him, too. But it’s too late. It’s time Brig McKenzie paid his dues!” He hitched the shotgun upward and unlocked the door.

Leaving Cassidy sagging against the wall, he strode into the night. Her legs threatened to crumple. Her threats were useless; neither her parents nor the police would take her seriously. Brig had a history of being in trouble with the law, and Derrick was just considered a boy who hadn’t quite grown up. So he drank a little. So he wrecked a few cars. So he was in a brawl or two. So he slept with everyone he could—nobody had ever been hurt except Felicity Caldwell, who had made the mistake of loving him forever. And there was never any real damage because Rex Buchanan had willingly paid off anyone who made claims against his son.

But Brig McKenzie drew trouble like a lightning rod enticed jagged streaks of electricity. The authorities would take Brig’s story and turn it around.

She heard the roar of Derrick’s truck. “Oh, God,” she whispered and silently prayed that her brother didn’t find Brig and Angie together.

Cassidy’s stomach knotted painfully. She’d witnessed Derrick’s cruel streak all too often, and it seemed that in the past few years, it had grown worse. He’d whipped horses until they’d bled, shot squirrels and stray cats for target practice and burned Willie with cigarettes in some kind of sick game. Willie had never said a word, but Cassidy had guessed the truth and had confronted her brother, claiming that if he ever did it again, she’d tell their father.

Derrick had laughed.

“Are you kiddin’?” he’d thrown back at her when she’d threatened him. “It’ll be your word against mine. Even the idiot won’t back you up.”

“Of course he will. He knows what you’ve done to him.”

Derrick’s slow-spreading grin had been positively evil. “He knows, but he won’t say.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause he’s a pervert, that’s why. And if he rats on me, I’ll rat on him and he doesn’t want our sweet, trusting daddy to know how sick he really is. Otherwise he might end up in a mental institution weaving baskets where he belongs.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“One of my finer qualities.”

“Willie’s not a pervert!”

“No?” Derrick had asked, his eyebrows rising. “Well, if I were you, little sister, I’d keep my blinds closed and my windows shut. You never know when Willie might quit staring and start acting. He watches, you know. Sees everything that goes on here. He’s seen you wearing nothin’ but your birthday suit and that St. Christopher’s medal, and he’s seen Angie, too. I think he likes that red bra she parades around in. I’ve caught him watching.”

Cassidy had recoiled. The thought of anyone, including Derrick, observing her made her skin crawl.

“So Willie won’t be divulging any secrets anytime soon unless he wants to end up in the loony bin.”

“You threatened him, didn’t you?” she said, seeing the depths of her brother’s perfidy for the first time.

“Just pointed out a few facts to him. But he’s not as dumb as he looks. He figured out right away that he has to keep his mouth shut to keep livin’ here, and believe you me, he wants to stay, seems to think that a mental hospital is some kind of twentieth-century torture chamber. He believes he might end up with a lobotomy or electric shock treatments with a cattle prod. It could be painful. Real painful. Scares the piss right out of him.”

“That’s what you told him,” she guessed.

“Just pointed his options out to the boy.”

“But that’s all a lie! They don’t do lobotomies or any of that stuff anymore! So help me, Derrick, if you ever do anything to Willie again…If you tease him, taunt him or hurt him in any way, I’ll let Dad know about it and he’ll believe me.”

“Dad doesn’t even know you’re alive, Cassidy. I hate to hurt your feelings, but Dad only really cares about Angie—because she reminds him of Mom. Talk about sick. You know, sometimes the way he looks at her worries me. You don’t think he wants to get it on with his own daughter, do you?”

“No!” Cassidy cried, covering her ears.

“I hope not, because the idea’s pretty damned ugly.” Beneath Derrick’s cocky need to shock, there was another emotion, something murky and dangerous and evil. “But if he touches her, I swear to God, I’ll kill him.”

And now he was after Brig. For the love of God, she couldn’t let him get away with it. She ran to the phone in the den and dialed Brig’s number. The telephone rang and rang. Ten times. Twelve. Fifteen. Twenty. In desperation she slammed the receiver into the cradle and started searching through the drawers for an extra set of keys. There were trucks parked near the stable, and if she found the right key…she didn’t have her license yet, but she knew how to drive…
come on, come on
. Her fingers slid over pencils, pens, staples and rubber bands. No keys. Then she remembered. Derrick still had the key ring.

Desperate, she ran outside, felt the rising wind, searched in each truck but found no extra key, no way to start the damned rigs. She couldn’t let Brig down; she had to warn him. Where the hell was he?

With Angie.

Her heart settled like lead, but she couldn’t let her own feelings stop her from trying to alert him. But how? She couldn’t get very far on foot. Teeth sinking into her lip, she scanned the parking lot and garages before landing on the stable and the answer to her prayers.
Remmington.
She could get anywhere on the colt. But how could she possibly find Brig?

With no answers, she started running, her legs moving swiftly, her heart drumming in fear. She had no idea where she was going, but she knew that she had to get there fast.

She didn’t bother with the lights, just yanked a bridle from the peg near Remmington’s stall. No one, not even Willie, could know that she’d left. Several horses snorted and rustled the straw of their boxes. “It’s all right,” she whispered.

A hand from out of the darkness shot over her mouth.

A scream died in her throat and she knew in that instant she was doomed.

“Shh. Cass. It’s me.” Brig’s voice only caused her racing heart to beat more wildly, in counterpoint to the rain pounding on the roof of the stable.

“Brig?” she whispered as he lowered his hand and let it rest against her shoulder. She tried to ignore the feel of his fingers, warm pads that burned through her shirt. “What—What are you doing here?”

“I was supposed to meet Angie.”

Cassidy’s heart dropped like a stone. “But she was with you—at the party.”

“I dropped her off a couple of hours ago. Downtown where she’d parked her car. She and I met earlier—I don’t think she wanted me rollin’ in here on the Harley to pick her up or bring her home.”

“Why not?”

“She said she got in a fight with Derrick. Seems as if your brother has some bone to pick with me. Threatened Angie and even your old man agreed that she shouldn’t be with me.”

“But she went anyway.”

“Yep. Snuck out of the house with some flimsy excuse about going over to the Caldwells’ early, then met me downtown.”

“And you went along with it.” She noticed a muscle work in the corner of his jaw.

“Your sister…she can be pretty convincing.”

“So you’re not immune after all.”

“I just like to get the best of the rich boy.”

Cassidy felt as if a ball of lead had settled deep in her stomach. She tried to pull away from him, but his fingers, still holding fast to her shoulder, only dug in deeper.

She tried to hide the pain in her voice. “Angie’s not home yet and Derrick’s on the warpath.”

“Against me?”

She heard the smile in his voice.

“It’s no joke, Brig. He’s got a gun and he’s convinced himself that he’s doing everyone, including Angie and the rest of the town, a favor by…by—”

“What?”

“By killing you.”

“Spoiled-boy theatrics,” Brig predicted. “Don’t worry about him.”

“He was serious,” she said, her heart hammering in fear. “Believe me, he’ll kill you.”

“Just let him try.” He sighed. “So where’s Angie?”

“You need her for something?”

“Hell, no,” he said, then caught himself short. “She told me to meet her here.”

“In the stable?”

“That’s what she said. Trouble is I’m a little late ’cause Jed Baker wanted a piece of my hide. Seems like I’m a popular guy tonight.”

“Derrick means business.”

“So did Jed.”

He didn’t seem to understand. From what little she could see of him, the contours of his face illuminated by the pale light filtering through the windows, he wasn’t too concerned about her brother, though there were still traces of blood on his forehead from his fight with Jed. “Look, Brig,” she said, still aware that he was touching her. “Derrick’s been drinking and he can be real mean when he’s drunk. You should stay away from him.”

“Maybe someone needs to teach him a lesson.”

“No. It won’t work. Other people have tried.” She shook her head violently and wished there was some way to convince him that he was in danger. “Derrick is more than mean. Sometimes…sometimes I think he
likes
to hurt other people. He gets off on it.”

“Time to change that.”

“No. Not you. Not tonight.” Desperate, she grabbed him by both arms. “Go home—or no, go somewhere safe, somewhere far away. Let Derrick sober up.”

“So that he can nail me the next time he has a few too many?”

“Until he finds someone else to pick on.”

“Like who? You?” he asked, and her head jerked up.

“I can handle myself.”

“But I can’t?” Mockery invaded his words and she felt foolish and young, a girl caught up in adult emotions.

“Derrick…he cares about me. He wouldn’t hurt me. Even if he didn’t like me, he’s afraid of Dad, of what he would do if he found out that Derrick was bothering me.”

“Or Angie?” Brig asked, his voice low.

“Or Angie. Dad…he would protect us.” It hurt the way he talked about Angie. “Why did you agree to meet her here?”

“I shouldn’t have,” he said on a sigh. “But she was…” His voice faded. “…scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe she was faking it,” Cassidy said. She knew her older sister pretty well, and though she didn’t completely understand what made Angie tick these days, Cassidy was certain that Angela Marie Buchanan hadn’t been really frightened of anything in her life.

“Maybe.” Brig didn’t sound convinced, and the silence stretched between them with the rain pattering on the roof and the warm smell of horses filling the air. “What’re you doing out here?”

“I—I thought I’d go for a ride.”

“In the middle of the night? In the rain?” He didn’t bother hiding his skepticism. “That’s crazy. Even for you.”

“I—”

“You what?” he asked, and his face was so close that his breath, smoky and hot, caressed her face.

“I was going to go looking for you,” she admitted, realizing that she was still touching him, her hands were still around his arms, and he’d stepped closer, bridging the small distance between them.

“For me?”

“To warn you. About Derrick.”

“I can handle Derrick.”

“I told you—he’s…he’s got a gun.” His hand moved closer to her neck, and her bare skin tingled where the tips of his fingers grazed her throat.

“So you were going to try and protect me.” His voice was low. Sexy.

“He’s dangerous.” He was so close, she could barely breathe. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

“So am I.” Tilting up her chin with one long finger, he kissed her, and in that second’s time she seemed to melt inside. His tongue invaded her mouth, and she willingly opened to him, like a flower to the sun. His arms surrounded her and her knees buckled; her bones turned liquid. His mouth was hard and hungry and eager.

She was hot, so hot, and his hands only fueled the fire that burned beneath her skin.
Love me
, she silently cried,
please Brig, love me
. She pressed hard against him, wanting more, knowing that only his touch would salve the desire that brought sweat to her spine. Anxiously he peeled away her shirt, and she fumbled with the buttons of his. The tops of her breasts bulged over her bra, to rub against the springy hairs on his chest.

“Cassidy,” he whispered, his voice strangled, as if he wanted to stop but couldn’t find the strength. He unlatched her bra and her breasts spilled into his waiting, callused hands. “Cassidy, sweet, sweet Cassidy.”

His thumbs caressed her nipples, and they swelled for him, puckering as liquid heat raced through her blood. Lowering himself to his knees, he pressed wet kisses against her skin and buried his face between her breasts, pushing the supple flesh against his cheeks.

Deep inside, she began to ache.

A moan sprang from her lips. She tangled her hands through his hair and held him close to her. His breath fanned her nipple before he took her into his mouth and her legs turned to water. He kissed her, touched her, and his fingers cupped her buttocks.

The ache became a dusky want that throbbed between her legs.

She felt the button on her cutoffs give way and heard the series of pops as her fly opened willingly in his hands. The ragged shorts dropped to the floor, and Brig buried his face in her abdomen, his breath searing her skin, his hands curling around the backs of her thighs to tickle and tease. “God, I want you,” he said, his voice throaty, his lips wet and filled with promise as they brushed so intimately against her skin, against the silk. His hot breath invaded the frail barrier of her panties and she quivered inside.

Her heart soared. “I—I want you, Brig.”

“No!” he rasped. “You don’t even know what you want; you’re…you’re…God, you’re only sixteen!”

“Just love me.”

“I…I…can’t.” He dropped his hands and threw back his head, squeezing his eyes shut. Shuddering, he took deep gulps of air, as if in so doing he could tamp down the desire thundering through his blood.

“Because of Angie,” she said.

“What? Angie?” His eyes flew open. “No—” Then he caught himself.

“No?” she asked, hardly daring to believe that he would deny her. She was offering herself, her virginity, her love, and Angie stood in the way. Tears of shame threatened her eyes.

“She has nothing to do with this.”

“But you said you and she—”

“I lied,” he admitted, shoving his hair away from his face impatiently. “I lied. So that you’d leave me alone.”

“But I saw you together, by the pool—”

“You saw what you wanted to see.”

Desperately she yearned to believe him. With all her heart, she needed to trust those words. She slid to her knees, and taking his face between her hands, she kissed him, long and hard.

“Don’t do this, Cass,” he warned.

But she didn’t stop. Her fingers ran down the sinewy muscles in his arms, pushing off his shirt before exploring the taut washboard of his ribs. He groaned, swore under his breath and then he gathered her into his arms and kissed her as if his life depended upon it. They tumbled to the hay-strewn floor. No more holding back, no more tremors of denial. He took what she so willingly offered. His hands were on her breasts, touching, kneading, making silent promises as his mouth skimmed her skin. He traced her navel with his tongue, pushing her onto her back. She quivered, liquid heat swirling inside her. Her skin was on fire, and she couldn’t think of anything save the urgent need of his body melding with hers.

He ripped off her panties and tossed them into the corner, then kicked off his boots and jeans. His mouth kissed her thighs, her buttocks, then moved upward, breath hot, tongue wet, lips persistent. Closing her eyes she felt the earth begin to move as he kissed her in the most forbidden of places. Warm, moist need yawned between her legs. Her blood pumped wild as he moved and she writhed, anxious for more, wanting something she couldn’t name, breathing his name in short quick gasps.

Suddenly he was above her, naked, hot, hard and sweating.

She looked straight into his night-darkened eyes.

“Tell me no,” he begged, his breath uneven, his lips drawn back against his teeth in frustration.

“I can’t.”

“For God’s sake, Cassidy—”

“Brig, I love you.”

“Don’t—”

“I’ll always love you.”

His face twisted in torment. “Cass…I can’t make any promises. Oh, hell. I should be shot for this.” And then, sweeping her legs apart with his knees, he gave in to the desire she saw in the bulge of veins in his neck. “No—” he ground out as his body reacted and he delved deep into her, breaking past the barriers of her childhood, making her a woman. “No! No! No!”

Her breath caught in a split second of pain and she felt a rending, not of flesh, but of the adolescence she so willingly gave up. She clung to him as he moved, slowly at first, making her dizzy, causing her breath to catch at the back of her throat, creating a kaleidoscope of colors whirling through her mind. She felt her hips leave the floor as she caught his rhythm. Perspiration fused their bodies, moans of pleasure passed her lips. Faster and faster the world seemed to spin, and suddenly the moon and sun and the stars above the stable shattered in a flash of light that electrified the night.

She convulsed and he caught her. “Brig! Oh, Brig!” she cried, clutching him and whispering in a voice she didn’t recognize as her own before falling damp and spent against the floor.

“Cass—” he cried as he shuddered and fell against her. He lay there, breathing deeply, his sweat mingling with hers, his arms protectively around her. His heart was still knocking wildly, his breathing not yet slowed when he rose up on his elbows and stared down at her with tortured eyes. Swallowing hard, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

For a few seconds all she heard was the sigh of the wind, the rapid drumming of her heart and the rain pelting against the roof and walls. She snuggled against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

His muscles flexed. “Oh, Jesus, what have I done?” His voice was harsh with self-loathing and he sighed bitterly.

As if seeing her for the first time, he squeezed his eyes shut. “Damn, damn, damn!” He pounded the floor with his free fist.

“Brig—?” He acted as if something was wrong, as if he was disgusted with himself. With her.

Rolling to his feet, he grabbed his jeans and glared down at her so harshly that she wanted to shrink away. “Nope,” he said, disgust tainting his words as he yanked on his clothes. “I was wrong. Shooting’s too good for me. I should be hung up by my balls.” He kicked furiously at a split bale of hay. “Shit, what was I thinking?”

“Brig—”

“You were a virgin,” he accused, as if it were a sin.

“I—of course—I never. You knew—”

“Yes, but I didn’t care. Sweet Jesus! A sixteen-year-old virgin!” Throwing back his head, he stared at the rafters. “I’m just a fool, Cass. A damned fool!” Again he kicked, this time at an empty water pail, and it went reeling, noisily bouncing off the walls. Horses neighed nervously. “Hell, what a mistake!”

“Mistake?” she said, reeling, afterglow fading and humiliation burning through her brain. She found her shirt and covered herself. She needn’t have bothered, because he wasn’t paying her any attention. Instead he was scowling out the window, frowning fiercely at the storm outside. “You know, Cass, I didn’t want this.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“I mean—I mean I did and I didn’t.”

“That makes it clear,” she snapped, wounded.

“It was a mistake.”

“You keep saying that,” she said, anger and shame surging through her veins.

“That’s because I know.”

“Know what?”

His smile was cold as he whipped his shirt from the hay and stuffed his arms through the sleeves. “What kind of a mess sex can lead to.”

“It was more than sex.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. It wasn’t—”

She dropped her clothes and walked up to him stark naked. Placing a finger over his lips, she said, “Don’t lie to me, Brig. I don’t care whatever else you do, but don’t lie.”

“I’m not—”

“Bull!” She jerked her thumb toward her breastbone. “I was there, damn it. I
know
what I felt, what
you
felt.” To her mortification, her voice broke.