Trouble Maker: A MacKenzie Family Novel (The MacKenzie Family) (4 page)

Her lips felt swollen and tingly. And then she realized the car had come to a stop and they were back at the bottom where they’d started, and the attendant was unhooking the latch to let them out.

Beckett helped her down the steps and she was surprised to realize her legs were unsteady. She didn’t have any words—anything to say to fill the gaps—and she felt completely out of her element. If she were like some other girls she might be able to smile or flirt or laugh, but there was only a soul-quenching knowledge that something had changed irrevocably in her life.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Beckett said solemnly. He took her hand and led her to the other side of the fairgrounds, toward the barricades that had been erected to divide the carnival from the makeshift parking lot they’d set up in another part of the grassy field. The lot was scattered with cars and the area was empty of people.

She couldn’t lie to him. Not with her feelings so close to the surface. “I’ve wanted you to do that for a long time,” she admitted. “Why’d you wait so long?”

He grinned and said, “I could never tell if you liked me. You’re always so serious. But every once in a while, I’d see you out of the corner of my eye—those big brown eyes watching me closely—and then you’d look away if I turned. But the blush across your cheeks let me know that maybe you were thinking of me like I was thinking of you.”

“It just always seemed so impossible,” she said, not denying his observations. “You’re away at school, and I’m—” She was going to say nobody, but she caught herself before the word could leave her mouth.

“It’s Surrender. The separation is only temporary,” he said. “We can make this work. We’ve got the whole summer before I’ve got to go back to school. And next year when you leave for college maybe you’ll find a place where the distance isn’t so bad.”

She could see the excitement in his eyes. Beckett was a planner. It came with ranch life. You always thought ahead to the next season and what needed to be accomplished.

The smile slowly left her face as she realized her future was not one that could include Beckett. Not even for a short while. It wasn’t fair to him. She had to escape her father. And there was no Surrender in her future.

The vision she’d had earlier flashed through her mind once more. The way they lay entangled on a blanket beneath the stars, their naked bodies sliding together with familiarity. Her cry of pleasure and his shout of triumph as the ecstasy built to a peak. And then it fizzled like a candle at the end of its wick.

“Beckett,” she whispered sadly, her hand coming up to touch his face.

And then he leaned down and kissed her again. This time was just as sweet, and the taste of him went straight to her head. His lips became bolder and she felt his tongue slip into her mouth. Her hands moved from his face to the back of his neck and she pressed against him, enjoying the new sensations of his body against hers.

“Marnie!” a familiar voice sounded in the distance.

She jerked back as if she’d been doused with cold water and looked around frantically, searching for that voice that always struck fear into her heart. Her first thought was to push Beckett behind her. Her daddy would kill him.

“You need to go right now,” she said to Beckett. “Go and don’t look back.”

“I’m an adult, Marnie. I can take responsibility for my actions,” he said, trying to soothe her. “He’s got every right to be upset. You’re his daughter.”

She caught sight of him just past the barricade, standing next to his old pickup truck, the red tip of his cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Harley didn’t look upset. He looked murderous.

“Marnie, you fucking slut,” he yelled. “You get over here now. If I have to come get you you’ll regret it.”

Embarrassment heated her cheeks at the way her father spoke. “You don’t understand,” she said to Beckett, pushing him back another step. “He’ll kill you. Just go before you make things worse.”

Beckett stopped and stared at her—a long, slow, dissecting stare that made her feel too exposed.

“Just go, please,” she begged.

“How long has this been going on? Jesus, does Darcy know? Why hasn’t anyone done anything?”

“Because it’s nobody’s business. Besides, who’s going to do anything about it?” she asked, the resentment she’d felt her whole life sneaking out. “My own mother would back him up. Sometimes the only thing to do is survive until you can escape.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone. Is there somewhere you can go? To the MacKenzie’s?”

“There’s no point. He’d just hurt them too.” There was no point being angry at Beckett. He was just trying to help. “I know how to deal with him.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he repeated. “We’ll deal with him together.”

Harley stood in front of his truck and the lights from the carnival cast eerie shadows across his body. He was a big man—you had to be to tackle steers or get bulls to cooperate—and his hair was sandy and thin on top. He flicked his cigarette onto the ground and didn’t bother stamping it out.

Before she could protest further, Beckett took her hand and pulled her straight into the Lion’s Den.

“You’re the Hamilton boy,” Harley said as they approached.

She could smell the whiskey on him from where she stood. It wasn’t like him to be in a crowded place like the fair. Once Duffey kicked him out of the bar he almost always went home to sleep it off. But something about this time was different.

“Yes, sir. I am,” Beckett answered warily. He’d smelled the whiskey too and caution eased into his voice. “I was just about to take Marnie home. My car is just over there.”

“Don’t lie to me, boy,” Harley spat. “You think because she spreads her legs for you that you have some kind of right to her? I’m sure all the boys feel the same way. She’s always been wicked. That girl’s got the devil inside of her. Nothing but trouble and a burden to her mama and me.”

Marnie stayed silent. It never did any good to argue, and it was the same speech she’d heard hundreds of times.

“That seems doubtful, sir,” Beckett said. “Like I said, I was just going to take her home.”

Harley smiled and fear snaked down Marnie’s spine. “Run back to your daddy, boy. She’s not worth the fight, no matter how good the pussy is. They never are.” He chuckled and Marnie felt Beckett go stiff with anger next to her. “Get in the car, girl. I won’t tell you a second time.”

She let go of Beckett’s hand and started to move forward, but he grabbed her wrist. “He’s been drinking,” Beckett said. “It’s not safe to go with him.”

“He’s always drinking. And it’s a lot safer to go with him now and just deal with it than to defy him,” she hissed. “Do what he says. He’ll hurt you, and I can’t have that on my conscience. He’ll sleep it off and won’t remember any of this by morning.”

“And what about you?” Beckett asked. “Will you be fine?”

“Sure,” she said. “I always am.”

“I’m going to get the sheriff. This is fucking insane, Marnie. He can’t get away with this. And I won’t let him hurt you.”

“One year and three days,” she said, pulling out of his grasp.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Freedom.” She took a step forward to face her destiny and the world went black as the vision took over. It was powerful. And violent. Her knees buckled and she went down to the ground in a smooth motion. Everything around her stopped—sight and sound—and all she could see was the scene unfolding before her.

Her father sitting in the backroom at Duffey’s like he had so many times before. The three other men at the table giving each other wary glances as Harley became more intoxicated. He was losing. And he was angry about it. Then Mitch Jones laid down three aces and Harley’s temper exploded. He accused Mitch of cheating and then swiped his arm across the table, clearing cards and poker chips and money. There was no stopping him. Harley was a freight train of rage and injustice. And he picked up the heavy wooden chair and slammed it into Mitch’s face. Then he did it again. And again.

“You killed him,” Marnie sobbed with horror. “The sheriff is looking for you. He’s coming. You thought you could hide in the crowd, but he’s coming for you. They’ll all be looking for you. You’ll be surrounded.”

“Son of a bitch,” Harley said, kicking the front tire of his pickup truck. “Leave it to Mitch to go and die after a little tap on the head. Get in the truck. You’re coming with me. I’ll need a little insurance to get out of here.”

“No, I’m not going,” she said, scrambling to her feet. Beckett helped steady her and pushed her behind him. “They’re coming for you.” Panic tinged her voice. She could see better now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. The spatters of dried blood across his shirt and on the tip of his boot from where he’d kicked Mitch.

She’d forgotten how fast he was for a big man. There was no time to run into the safety of the crowd. Harley was in front of them in the blink of an eye. His fist connected with Beckett’s stomach hard enough to double him over. And then he jerked her by the arm and tossed her over his shoulder in one smooth motion. She felt the liquid pop as her shoulder came out of joint and her scream was muffled against his back.

“Let her go,” she heard Beckett say, his breath wheezing as he stood straight again. Then she heard the familiar sound of her father’s fist hitting flesh. Beckett shared Harley’s height, but at nineteen, he didn’t have the strength or build of the other man.

“Stop it! Don’t hurt him!” she yelled. She tasted the salt of her tears, but crying never did any good. Crying made it worse.

“Shut up, little bitch,” Harley snarled. And then he tightened his grip around the back of her legs and marched toward his truck. She looked up in time to see a small crowd gathering and Beckett sprawled on the grass—unmoving. The door of the truck opened and she was tossed inside, her head hitting the center console with a sharp crack. Her vision went blurry for a split second and when she was able to focus again she saw an open bottle of Jim Beam in the cup holder.

Marnie scrambled to a sitting position as her father got in the cab of the pickup and she scooted as close to the door as she could. He turned the key in the ignition and it started up smoothly, and then he threw the truck in reverse and sped out of the grassy field, fishtailing onto the gravel road that led back into town.

He cut through back roads and across open land, checking the rearview mirror for anyone on his trail. There was no one. Just her.

“I need money,” he said. “I know you’ve got a stash. Tramp like you probably makes decent cash whoring. You’re going to give it to me or I’m going to gut you with my filet knife.”

Marnie closed her eyes and tried to remember to breathe, but the fear was thick and cloying and it crawled across her skin like a toxic ooze. All she knew was she’d rather be dead than give up the one chance she had for freedom.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stuttered.

She didn’t even have time to flinch as the back of his hand connected with her cheek. Pain exploded along her jaw, and she tasted the coppery tang of blood as it filled her mouth. She pushed herself farther in the corner of the cab and looked at the door handle. She’d have to be fast to open the door and roll out into the street.

“Don’t bother lying,” he said. “You managed to tart yourself up with that makeup on your face. You got it and those slutty clothes from somewhere, so I know you got money. No wonder boys like that Hamilton kid are sniffing around. It’s girls like you he’ll fuck on the side while his respectable wife is home where she ought to be.”

Her hand crept up the door until it was just inches from the handle.

“I’ll break every one of those goddamned fingers if you try to open that door. Where’s the money?” he asked again. And then he hit her in the ribs as an afterthought, though the angle was wrong so it wasn’t as big of an impact as it could’ve been.

He laughed and the sound was pure evil. “I forgot I owed you that one. Only the devil could’ve told you about Mitch cheating at cards. I just wanted justice. And look at you, spouting filth and lies instead of defending me. Your mama and I would’ve done better to put you in a bag and drown you when you were born. Least you could do is make us rich. Worthless bitch.”

They were still a couple miles away from the house and he was flying down the one-lane path, so gravel was pinging against the side of the truck. He slammed on the brakes and they skidded several feet before ending up inches shy of the big oak tree that sat in the middle of the fork in the road. The left side of the fork was MacKenzie land, and the little house they rented was along that path. The right side of the fork was Hamilton land.

Her heart thudded in her chest and sweat dampened the back of her shirt and shorts. Her hair had come loose and her mouth was swollen and split from where he’d hit her.

She was just plain tired. There was no winning this game her father played. There was no reason to fight back. To argue. But sometimes she thought about it. Because maybe if she fought back he’d go ahead and kill her.

He was out of the truck in a flash and around to her side, jerking open the passenger door. He pulled her out by the hair and threw her to the ground. She caught herself with her good arm and whimpered as her other shoulder throbbed. And then she heard the sound she’d dreaded almost every day of her life. The swish of leather as it was pulled through his belt loops.

“I don’t like repeating myself, girl. I asked for money. And you’re going to tell me where it is. What’s yours is mine. I’ve provided you with shelter and food. And you owe me. Where is it?”

This first snap of the belt stung against her shoulders and she huddled into herself for protection, her face pressed against the dirt beneath the tree. Through every beating, every disappointment, every hardship, she’d kept her pride. She never begged for him to stop. She just rode it out and went to the place inside her head that kept her from going insane with the pain. Her focus was getting out. Escaping. And her freedom money was the only way to do that. She’d be damned if she’d hand it over to a monster.

She lost track of the number of times the belt whistled down across her back. Or the number of times he yelled, “Tell me, bitch!” But she knew the only way to save herself was to use the gift she’d been given. Even if it was a lie.