Legacy of Lies

by Jillian David

  “Please, don’t let him see you,” she whispered as she motioned for Garrison to step away.

  God, she was such a coward.

  His burnished eyebrows rose as he moved next to the door. He crossed his arms, hands gripping his biceps as his mouth compressed into a thin, angry line.

  Hail Mary, full of grace. Sara was screwed no matter what she did.

  Panic created sweaty pinpricks on her skin. Her back twitched like a knife was about to be thrust between her shoulder blades.

  Hank pounded on the door again until the windows rattled in the casings.

  She took a deep breath, flicked a glance at the unhappy man standing next to her, and opened the door a few inches, keeping Garrison hidden behind it. Even then, she could still feel his disapproving stare.

  “Hank?”

  “Why didn’t you listen to me?” he growled.

  His voice remained so calm. Too calm.

  “What?”

  “I’m very disappointed, Sarita.” The man fairly vibrated, so well did he hold his emotions in check.

  But his darting eyes and vein pulsing on his forehead told a different story. He was about to blow.

  And behind the door, Garrison was probably fuming.

  Goose bumps rose on her arms.

  Now everyone disapproved of her. She couldn’t catch a break.

  Maybe she could bluff her way out of this mess. “Seriously, what are you talking about?”

  “Can I come in?” His voice was too sweet, too quiet. Not good.

  “No.”

  His smile twisted within his bearded face. “Where’s fairy boy?”

  “Who?”

  “That Taggart asshole. I saw his truck parked nearby. He’s got to be in here.”

  “Please leave, Hank. It’s late. You’ve said your piece.”

  “But you didn’t obey me.” Sick logic, but he clearly believed it. “I am to be obeyed.”

  She resisted the urge to wipe her sweaty palms on her shirt. “You’re not my boss.”

  “Yeah, but my brother is. You don’t do what I say, you’ll be out of a job, maybe forever.”

  Nausea threatened to drive her to her knees, but she maintained a calm demeanor. No need to give him any advantage.

  “My life is none of your business.”

  His eyes bulged as he looked into the house. Then he leaned back and sighed. Flickers of the old, genial Hank interspersed with this new, strange Hank.

  “Taggart is my business, sweets.”

  The old endearment sounded like poison coming from him today.

  “Why?”

  “I’ve been called to destroy them.”

  “Seriously, what in the world are you talking about?”

  “In the world? It’s what’s not in the world that’s important. Get it?” He shook his shaggy head. “You wouldn’t understand. No one does. But the Great One knows.”

  “Who?”

  He clapped a hand over his mouth, then whispered. “Can’t say.”

  Was Hank experiencing some kind of mental breakdown? Maybe he needed professional help.

  He stepped forward again. “Let me look around.”

  Breakdown or not, she’d had enough of his behavior. “No. This isn’t your house, and you’re not welcome here.” She hung on to the door with one hand and put her other hand on the doorjamb, barring his entry.

  He stared at her.

  Sara froze.

  The crack as he slapped her arm away vibrated up to her shoulder, bringing tears to her eyes.

  Garrison flew around her in a split second and went nose to nose with Hank.

  Standing behind Garrison, she had a front-row seat when the back of his neck turned an ungodly shade of red, contradicting his own much-too-calm tone of voice. Only, unlike Hank, Garrison didn’t sound nuts. He sounded dangerous.

  “Don’t touch her. Ever. Again,” he growled.

  Hank rocked back on his heels, as he stood a few inches shorter than Garrison’s six-foot-plus frame. Fury and heat radiated off Garrison. One hand clutched the door while his other hand extended back to keep Sara behind him.

  “Back off, Taggart.” Hank sneered. “This conversation is between Sara and me.”

  “The conversation is over. You will leave the lady alone.”

  “She’s no lady.” Hank’s face contorted.

  Hard to tell which hurt more, her throbbing arm or the character assassination. Goddamn it, she couldn’t control who her parents were, and she’d done her best to rectify her petty crimes. She’d made something of herself and built a respectable life and career. Any meddling was for the sole purpose of helping her students.

  Holy mother of God, give a woman some credit.

  Garrison had the posture of a man whose fuse burned half an inch from the stick of dynamite. “One more time, Hank. Get out, or I will remove you from this property. And I guarantee who will win this round.” He invaded Hank’s personal space. “Leave Sara alone.” The cold control in his voice nearly shattered her own ability to hold her shit together.

  Her heart pounded double time.

  “Whatever. Neither of you losers is worth my time.” Hank turned his head and spat on the porch. “Sarita, you’d better watch your back. And polish up your résumé.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “Taggart, you and your family are all marked.”

  He stormed off the porch, slammed the door of his truck, and sped off in a pissed-sounding vroom that surely drew the neighbors’ attention. How was she going to wave at her neighbor tomorrow morning and act like she didn’t notice his stare, that “so, you can’t get along with men, huh?” assessment? Her cheeks already felt hot.

  Until Garrison spun on his heel, kicked the door closed, and stared her down.

  Chapter 12

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Garrison’s powerful hands clenched and stretched, over and over. A muscle popped in his hard jaw, in time with his hand movements. When he stepped toward her, she flinched away.

  “Son of a bitch, I’m not going to hurt you. Let me see your arm.”

  “It’s fine. Let’s just ... God, I don’t know.”

  He gripped her elbow and hand, and she gasped. Strong but gentle, he eased the sweatshirt fabric up her arm. She couldn’t move, but he wasn’t hurting her. His thumb brushed over the tender, red skin, and like an idiot, she felt a surge of desire settle deep in her belly. Totally inappropriate response to the entire situation.

  “You have ice?”

  “I don’t need anything.” She extricated her arm. Damn it, he stood way too close for comfort. “Let’s just forget this whole unpleasant incident.” Besides, she had a life to plan that didn’t involve sticking around Copper River. That life didn’t include anything more than a passing interest in Garrison. The sooner he left, the sooner she could move that plan forward.

  No chance of entanglement. Maximum chance of the plan succeeding.

  “What?” He rocked back on his heels.

  “Which painful part would you like me to repeat?” The chill in her tone was the only way she could keep from breaking down in front of this man.

  He shook his head like a man waking up from a trance. “What the ... You actually believe you don’t need any help?”

  Sadness needled between her ribs like an icepick. She couldn’t take a deep breath without it hurting. “Doesn’t matter. Please go home to your family, Garrison.”

  “I want to be here.” He lifted his hand as if to touch her again, checked himself, and ran his hand through his short hair. “And you shouldn’t be alone with a guy like that coming by.”

  “I’ve managed so far.”

  “Obviously.” The sarcasm dripped like acid from his tongue. “Look, let’s at least get some ice on this arm.”

  He ignored her protest as he stalked into the kitchen. The sounds of the freezer door and cabinets opening drifted back to her as she stood, stunned, in the living room.

  When he returned with a Ziploc bag full of ice, he grasp
ed her hand and led her to the couch. With infinite tenderness that belied the red color of his face and tension in his frame, he draped the ice over her purpling arm. She gasped at the cold.

  “Sorry.” One side of his mouth quirked upward. “It’s cool.”

  She couldn’t help but smile in return, damn it. “Supposed to be. It’s ice.”

  Uneasy quiet stretched out around them, broken only by the clunk of ice shifting in the bag. Her heart rate had finally returned to normal, though little flutters of excitement skittered through her as she sat hip to hip on the couch with him. He still had her arm resting on his hard thigh, her hand much too close to a certain bulge.

  Adjusting the ice to keep the bruised area covered, his businesslike demeanor gave no indication he knew or even cared about her proximity to any part of his anatomy.

  “Why did you come here tonight, Garrison? Really?” Her voice sounded hollow in the stillness of the room.

  “Because you didn’t return my calls. And then when I stopped by yesterday, you kicked me out.” His self-deprecating smile lifted her spirits a bit. “So, persistence in the face of certain defeat.” He shrugged. “Guess I’m no better than Hank, huh?”

  “You’re a much better man than he is. There’s no comparison.”

  He shifted a quarter turn to face her.

  She tried to ignore the heat from their thighs pressed together.

  His gold-glinting gaze held her in place. “I’m really here because I wanted to check on you. That’s it. Honest. And I’m glad I came back.” Pressing his mouth into a line, he added, “We also didn’t get a chance to regroup on how Zach is doing.”

  “You’re here for another teacher conference?” That certainly slapped a girl out of her mooning.

  “No. Not really.”

  “But you said—”

  “It’s not ... I only want for you to tell me if Zach starts acting strangely. Or something.”

  Never heard that request from a parent. “All right. Well, so far so good. Normal kid behavior.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “Good.”

  “Is that mainly why you came here, then?”

  “No.”

  She was unable to take her eyes off the unforgiving features of his face that had somehow softened. The flannel shirt strained as he brought an arm up to rest on the back of the couch, not quite touching her, but so close she could sense his fingers right behind her.

  His low voice came out like a caress. “Maybe I’m also here ... because I only got a taste.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I can’t stay away from you, Sara.”

  Had he lost his mind?

  Hell, had she? This was so not part of her plan, damn it.

  “What about the stuff Hank said? He told me the ‘Great One’ called him to destroy you. I have no idea what all that was about.”

  “Frankly, Hank can go screw himself for all I care.”

  She giggled. “He’s not that flexible.”

  When he laughed, his entire face reflected a whole different Garrison. Still strong, but gentler, with more layers than the tough rancher most folks probably saw. “I came close to making him that flexible tonight.”

  “Thanks for helping out, by the way. No one’s ever stood up for me like that.”

  “I’m only sorry that it needed to be done and that I didn’t step in until after he hurt you.” The slow movement of his thumb over her fingertips as they rested on his leg created swirls of pleasure, waking up parts of her body that had slept for far too long.

  “Well. Okay, then.”

  He locked eyes with her. “You know what I care about? Who you are as a person. I couldn’t give a shit about anything else. We all have our ancient history. I care about the sexy woman in front of me who believes in my son.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh.” He stared over her shoulder. “Besides, um, I have a sense for when people are lying.”

  “Really?”

  He didn’t meet her eyes. “Kind of have an instinct for it. Hank’s not going to ruin your job. He’s spineless.”

  “How can you know for sure?”

  His warm breath fanned her face. “Like I said, I’m pretty good at telling when people are lying.”

  Squinting at him, she said, “Now you’re teasing.”

  “Nope.”

  “Hmm, what if I tell you my favorite color is yellow?”

  He squinted at her. “Lie. Try again.”

  A stab of pain, like a pinprick on her skin over the temple, came and went. How odd.

  “I love my job.”

  “Truth. I don’t have to try on that one.”

  “And if every day came with chocolate icing, I’d be in heaven.”

  “Oh, that’s true. I don’t even need to use my ... instinct. All your feelings show on your face. You’d make a horrible poker player.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Why too bad?”

  “I could pay off my student loans with the winnings.”

  “Care to share leftover funds?” At his wry smile, her heart skipped a beat. “Okay. Let’s do an experiment.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “You’ve got another few minutes to ice your arm. We need to kill some time. Close your eyes.” He raised his auburn eyebrows. “Unless you’re chicken?”

  Her insides melted right along with the ice in the Ziploc bag. “No way.” She shut her eyes. “What’s the experiment?”

  “This.”

  He rested his fingers on her shoulder and trailed them over her neck.

  When he buried his hand in her hair, she sighed and leaned into the warm palm. Sparks of happiness centered on the back of her head, spread down her neck and chest, and settled in the space between her legs.

  He brought his other hand up and massaged her neck and scalp. Slow sweeps that released her hair from the clip, which he set on the end table.

  The man had a point. They’d only had a taste of each other. The kiss in the parking lot hadn’t been nearly enough. She had wanted so much more. Maybe he’d consider more. After he finished rubbing her neck and scalp, of course.

  “Sara, look at me.” His voice flowed over her like warm caramel.

  When she opened her eyes, his irises glinted with gold flecks. How long had he been staring at her? How had he come so close to her, with his mouth only inches away?

  “Your face gives it away every time.”

  “Gives what away?”

  “The truth.”

  He tugged her head closer and slid one hand under her chin, and she shuddered, not from fear but longing. The only sound was that of her breathing, much too rapid for calm, polite company.

  “God, you’re beautiful.”

  He stilled her protest with his heated mouth, his lips demanding her consideration.

  No problem there. He had her undivided attention.

  The contact took her from toasty to sizzling in the space of a breath. His kiss, insistent and hard, stole her breath. He’d bypassed tender hesitation and gone straight to devouring her whole.

  And she was A-okay with Garrison’s devour mode.

  She gasped, trying to keep up with his shifting, searching, tasting mouth. When her lips parted, he slid his tongue inside, swooping into her mouth and opening her to him.

  The bag of ice dropped to the floor, and she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to her.

  His groan echoed her own as he stroked her neck and slid down to the sweatshirt. His rough fingertips left a trail of heaven as one hand drifted to her breast, warming her skin through the fabric. When he cupped her and rubbed a thumb over her covered nipple, she threw her head back.

  “See what I mean? Open. Book.”

  He pinched the hard tip of her nipple again, and she squealed as her toes curled.

  “You’re too far away from me.” He growled as he pulled her onto his lap, facing him.

  The spread of her legs over his hot denim thighs felt naughty and perf
ect. And left a space that begged to be filled. By him.

  When he snaked his arms under her shirt, she leaned in and kissed him with every ounce of appreciation for his caresses on her back.

  He lifted the hem of her shirt and tugged off the garment.

  In the past, this would be the point where she’d cover herself or turn off the light. Even her curves had curves, and for a hard body like Garrison, she might not be to his taste.

  As he licked his lips and groaned, he palmed her full breasts. “So beautiful,” he breathed.

  Yes, her body was to this rancher’s liking. His hot palm seared the skin of her back until a fingertip reached her bra. He popped the clasp, and he drew the fabric down and away. He licked his lips again like a starving man eyeing a buffet.

  She ran her hands up his arms to his muscled neck and gently raked her nails over the nape. He shuddered.

  Instead of keeping her arms around his neck, he gently positioned her hands behind her, on his knees. With her back arched and breasts pushed forward, she straddled him. Excitement zinged through every inch of her body.

  Without preamble, he raised her breast to his mouth and sucked the nipple in, hard, holding it in place with his teeth and flicking his tongue over the tight nub.

  She gasped as a pulse deep in her pelvis throbbed in time with his tongue’s motion.

  Colors and light began to smear by the time he shifted to the other breast. Leaning back, he squeezed the soft flesh and rolled the nipples between his thumb and finger, drawing her closer to him. Harsh breaths filled the room.

  Turned out, the rough panting was actually her own. Thrusting her chest toward him, she was greedy for him to taste even more, for his hands to roam over her skin. She thanked the Holy Ghost when Garrison obliged with his hot mouth and rough tongue on her breast once again. Who said seconds weren’t healthy? She groaned as he switched his attention back to her other breast.

  “God, I want you, Sara.” He pressed back down onto her mouth and kissed her hard and deep, while kneading her breasts with ever-faster movements.

  Too much sensation, everywhere. Her body threatened to burst into flame.

  “Me too,” she breathed. “Oh God, I so want you.”