Final Scream

by Lisa Jackson

  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.

  “You have no idea. This was your first time, but it wasn’t mine.”

  “Meaning?” She hardly dared to breathe, not sure she wanted to hear.

  His voice was harsh. Relentless. “You’ll have other orgasms, but I won’t be the one giving them to you. This was just sex, Cass, nothing more. It’ll happen with a dozen other guys—”

  Her reaction was instantaneous. She drew back and slapped him. The smack ricocheted through the stable. “Never!”

  “Like hell.” He rubbed his cheek and she saw the pain in his eyes, believed with all her naïve heart that he was trying to be noble.

  “Brig, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Of course you meant it. Just as you did before. Grow up, Cassidy,” he said, striding toward the door. “But don’t count on me to help you.”

  “It’s because you love Angie, isn’t it?” She felt so stupid and young—so naive.

  Every muscle in his body flexed, and his spine was suddenly rigid. When he turned to face her, the lines on his face made him look ten years older. “I don’t love Angie,” he said through clenched teeth. “And I don’t love you. I don’t love anyone, and that’s the way I like it.”

  She felt as if she was the one who’d been slapped. Her throat worked and tears burned in her eyes.

  “You’ll get over this,” he said, though his words lacked conviction.

  “I won’t.”

  “Sure you will. And someday when you’re older, you’ll marry someone with the same dreams you’ve got—someone your parents will approve of, someone who deserves you.”

  “Brig—”

  “I don’t love you, Cassidy. So don’t make me a part of your silly little fantasies. It won’t work.”

  She watched as he walked through the door and out of her life. A part of her—that foolish little girl part—seemed to wither and die as rain splashed and gurgled in the dusty gutters and horses pawed nervously in their stalls. Cassidy felt tears burn behind her eyes and she gathered up her clothes. What had she expected? Claims of undying love? From Brig McKenzie? She was a dreamer. Remember, he was here waiting for Angie.

  She heard the engine of his Harley rev loudly. Gravel spun and the gears whined to an ear-shattering pitch before he shifted and the sound disappeared in the rain.

  “Good riddance,” she said, though she didn’t mean a word of it. If he drove back this very minute, she’d end up kissing him and making love to him again.

  Making love. She’d done it. Instead of her sister, she’d seduced Brig McKenzie. That thought made her stomach
turn sour. She stepped into her panties and thought about Angie. Where was she? Why had she wanted to meet with Brig? As she snapped up her cutoffs, she knew the answer. Angie had planned to seduce him again. Instead, her little sister had done the honors.

  She blinked hard, buttoned her blouse and decided she couldn’t think about it anymore. She loved Brig with all of her heart, but he would never love her.

  However, Derrick was still on the loose. With a gun. Her insides froze.

  She pulled on her shoes, grabbed Remmington’s bridle and, with the colt in tow, ran out of the stable. There was a movement in the shadows near the door, and she nearly screamed just as a car’s engine rumbled closer and the beams of headlights bore down on her from the drive. Like a doe caught in the glare of a pickup’s headlights, she froze. A car she didn’t recognize jolted to a stop and her mother, half-stumbling, climbed out of the car. “Thanks for the ride.” She opened her umbrella as the car tore away, leaving her standing face-to-face with her daughter in the downpour.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She had to lie. “Just checking on Remmington.”

  “Hmm. ’Stha’ so?” Dena was tipsy. “He looks fine to me and you’re not s’pose to ride him. ’Specially not at night in the rain.”

  “I know, but—” She was frantic. She had to save Brig. From Jed. From Derrick. From Angie. From himself.

  “Don’t argue with me.” Dena wagged a finger in front of Cassidy’s nose. “Put that beast ’way and come on out of the rain—” She plucked a piece of straw from Cassidy’s hair and her lips pursed suspiciously.

  Cassidy had no choice but to do as she was bid. But her heart was jackhammering as they headed toward the house.

  “Is your father home?”

  “No—just Derrick, but he left.” To shoot Brig. Please, God, keep him safe.

  “Rex hasn’t shown up?”

  “No.” Who cared about her father at a time like this? Brig was in danger!

  “That lying son of a gun. You know what he did, don’t you? Left me stranded at the Caldwells’ party. Claimed he was going for a smoke and then took off in the car. I’ve never been so mortified in all my life.” She shook the umbrella on the porch, walked into the foyer and nearly tripped on the bottom step. “Well, I know where he is, and believe me, he’ll catch hell in the morning. And you”—she turned to look over her shoulder—“run up to bed and go to sleep. It’s late.”