He slung his bedroom door open and stalked inside, knelt beside the bed and groped underneath for the bundle that held his secrets safe from prying eyes.
And there was nothing there.
"You wouldn't be looking for this, now, would you, big brother?"
He came to his feet and whirled to see Jessi standing in the doorway with his satchel dangling from one hand. His temper heated up. "What are you doing with that?" He surged forward and snatched it from her hand. "Dammit, Jess, you know better than—"
"Than what? Huh? To worry about my brother and try to find out what's wrong?"
"To snoop." He tucked the bag under his arm, hoping to heaven she hadn't gone through it.
She stared at him hard, crossing her arms over her chest. "How could you do it to her, Wes?"
Hell, she had gone through the bag, then. "Look, you don't have a clue what's going on, so just—"
"The heck I don't! You're the one who scared that woman half out of her wits in that godawful getup. What I don't have a clue about is why. And I'm not leaving this room until you tell me."
"I'm not telling you anything. This isn't your business, Jessi." He tried to keep his temper in check. He adored his little sister, but her meddlesome ways could make a saint see red. "Leave it alone, Jess."
She thrust her chin out, and he knew damned well she wasn't going to oblige him. "You can talk to me, or you can talk to Garrett," she said. "But I can tell you now, he won't be too pleased to have to arrest his own brother for trespassing and whatever else you've been up to out there at Emerald Flat. So what's going on? Why are you trying so hard to ruin the best thing that's ever happened to you, Wes?"
Sighing hard, Wes sank onto the edge of his bed, closed his eyes. "I'm not tryin' to ruin it. I'm tryin' to save it." He peered up at Jessi, but she was still standing there with that stubborn look in her eye, so he told her. He told her everything, and it actually felt good to get it off his chest. When he finished, she came to sit down beside him, and she looked up at him, shaking her head.
"You're going at this all wrong," she told him. "What you gotta do is throw this dang costume away and tell Taylor the truth."
"Hell, I can't do that."
"She'd understand, Wes. Just tell her the way you told me. Tell her about old Turtle and his illness and all. Tell her—"
"You don't get it. She likes the guy."
Jessi cocked her head. "Turtle?"
"No. Wolf Shadow. She … she's attracted to him."
His sister made a fist and knocked lightly on the top of his head. "Hello? Anybody home in there? The guy is you, Wes."
"Yeah, but she doesn't know that."
Frowning hard, Jessi said, "I wouldn't be so sure about that theory. The woman isn't stupid."
"She doesn't know. I'm sure of it, and dammit, Jess, I have to keep it that way. She wants to see him one more time, and by God, I'm gonna see to it she does. Let her get the damned ghost out of her system so we can get on with things."
"And you think that's what's gonna happen?"
He lowered his head. "I hope that's what's gonna happen."
Jessi shook her head. "I never realized just how clueless the Brand men were. Lord, but you all need keepers."
"I have to go." He got to his feet, satchel still tucked under his arm.
"Don't do this, Wes. It's bound to blow up in your face, I'm telling you."
He shook his head. "I got no choice." And he headed out without waiting for her arguments, because they made too much sense and he was already scared witless about what he was going to do. She was wrong, no matter how logical she sounded. Dead wrong.
He hoped.
Taylor waited until Wes was out of sight, and then she followed him. On foot. She cut through the woods to watch as he walked down to his car and took the long way around, the only way on and off the flat by car. And then she stationed herself there, where she'd be sure to see him when he came back.
It was over an hour. But he did return. He pulled the truck off the trail into a copse of brush almost as if he wanted it hidden, and then he got out, slung a pack of some kind over his shoulder and began hiking toward the woods where she crouched.
Catching her breath, Taylor ducked behind some deadfall, and waited for him to pass. He hadn't seen her. Good. His steps never faltered. And he walked like a man who knew exactly where he was going. She gave him a few seconds, and then she crept out of her hiding place and followed.
Once she stepped on a twig, and it snapped. She lunged for a tree, flattening herself to its bark for cover, and when she peered out, she saw Wes standing in the distance, looking back, listening. She all but held her breath as she waited, and waited. But eventually he gave his head a shake and turned away again.
Relief made her almost too limp to move, but she was determined to know the truth. For sure. Tonight.
And in a few more minutes she did. Wes clambered up a shallow slope not far from the pond, and then disappeared. Taylor crept closer, pushing tangled undergrowth aside to find the entrance to a cave. And there was a light coming from within. Narrowing her eyes, she peered around the corner to see Wes sitting cross-legged on the stone floor, a kerosene lamp glowing in front of him, a mirror propped up against a rock. As she looked on, he pulled his hair free of its usual thong. Then he dipped his fingers into a jar of color, and smeared stripes of bright yellow over his face. Before her very eyes, Wes turned into Wolf Shadow. And it was good that she'd seen it because she never would have believed it otherwise.
She withdrew in silence, lowered her head, felt the burn of tears in her eyes, but only for a moment. Seconds later anger surged up to overwhelm the disappointment. Damn him. He obviously had some ulterior motive here, some hidden reason for wanting to sabotage the dig. And she couldn't help but wonder if his alleged feelings for her were as phony as the costume he was wearing tonight. Just another part of his scheme. A way of putting himself right in the middle of the dig, maybe getting in position to resort to some other means of stopping the project in case his scare tactics didn't work.
Why? She couldn't for the life of her imagine why.
But maybe the why of it didn't even matter. He'd lied to her. He'd betrayed her, when she'd trusted him in a way she hadn't trusted anyone in a very long time. And it hurt to feel this disillusioned yet again. But she'd deal with the hurt later. Right now the man needed to be taught a lesson he wouldn't soon forget. How could she ever have thought she could be falling in love with him?
She slipped down to the edge of the pond, brushed the tears from her eyes, and she waited. And within a short while, his footsteps came softly on the dried leaves and bristly grass behind her. Drawing a breath, telling herself she could play at this game of charades as well as he could—better than he could—she got to her feet and turned to face him.
She had never looked more beautiful, Wes thought, or more vulnerable, than she did right now. He felt like slime. Lower than that. But dammit, what choice had she given him? He was doing this for her … for them.
She looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time, and he thought she set her jaw. "I was hoping you'd come tonight," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"For the last time," he told her. "I can't come to you again after this." He didn't move closer. God forbid she should recognize him now, when he was about to put this stupid scam to rest forever.
"Why?" Taylor came closer, but stopped two feet from him, those piercing dark eyes of hers skimming his face.
"I am not real, Taylor. I'm a phantom. A myth. I don't even exist."
"We both know that's a lie." She came still closer, and this time she touched him, her palm skimming lightly up his outer arm. "You're as real as I am."
He drew slightly away, because her touch rekindled memories of the last time he'd been with her here. What had nearly happened between them. And he wanted her so much he ached with it. But not as some ghostly apparition. Not like that.
"You're wrong.
I only came tonight to say goodbye," he said, and his voice had gone hoarse. "You deserve more. A real man, who can give you all that I can't. I'm going, Taylor, and you won't see me again."
She swallowed hard, met his eyes. "If that's the way it has to be."
He nodded. "It is."
"Will you do one thing for me before you go?"
So close. So close to ending this charade. Wes felt a shiver dance up his spine. "If I can."
"You can," she said, and she averted her eyes. "I need to know that what I … feel for you … is as nonexistent as you claim to be."
"It is, Taylor. It's only a fantasy."
"Prove it to me, Wolf Shadow." She lifted her head, met his eyes and came closer, until her toes touched his. And he realized for the first time that she was barefoot, as he was, and damned near moaned at the erotic thrill that rushed through him at that simple contact. Skin to skin. Warmth and softness. "Kiss me," she said. "Just kiss me once more. A goodbye kiss."
He shook his head from side to side, told himself to move away from her, and remained standing right where he was. "It would prove nothing," he whispered, even as her hands crept up around his neck and her fingers threaded into his hair.
"Maybe not." She pressed her body to his. "Maybe I just want to make sure you know what you'll be missing." She fit her mouth to his, and she kissed him, gently, softly. Too softly. She drew away to stare into his eyes, and then she kissed him again. Drew away again. Kissed him again. Drew away. "C'mon," she whispered. "You know you want to."
When her lips danced over his yet again, Wes lost whatever willpower he'd had. And most of his sanity, as well. His arms locked around her waist, and he bowed over her, covering her mouth with his. Her taste drove him mad, and he pulled her tighter to him, his tongue diving inside her mouth, his hands anchoring her hips to his.
Her hands rose between them to push him away, but he ignored their gentle pressure, and kept kissing her. And finally she pulled her head to the side, muttered, "Stop. Enough, it's enough."
But Wes didn't think it would ever be enough. Still he let his hands fall to his sides. She was breathless, wide-eyed, and if she wanted him as much as she seemed to, he'd probably just blown his plan all to hell.
She took a step away from him. "Goodbye, Wolf Shadow," she said.
And he was left to frown after her, puzzled, confused, disgusted with himself for ruining everything and with her for letting him. Didn't she have any sense of loyalty at all?
She turned once more to look back at him. "Maybe some night when you're so lonely you can hardly bear it, you'll realize what you gave up tonight."
"I already do," he muttered, but she was already hurrying back through the woods out of sight. Damn. He'd lost her. He'd…
No, wait a minute. Wolf Shadow had lost her. Maybe that meant there was still a chance … for Wes.
Taylor slammed into her dome tent, yanked the zipper closed and fumbled in the darkness for a gas lamp until she finally got the thing lit.
Damn him!
And damn her. How could she still feel so crazy in his arms when she knew full well how he'd tricked her and lied to her? How could she have lost herself in his kiss the way she had? God, she still wanted the bastard. Even knowing the truth.
She was sick. She was seriously sick to feel anything for him now.
But she did. Leaving him behind in the forest had been the hardest thing she'd ever done. She should have been repulsed and disgusted to have to carry out her act. Instead she was more turned on this time than she had been before. And maybe that was because she knew the man she was kissing was really Wes Brand. So that now all the things she'd felt for him, and all the things she'd felt for Wolf Shadow, had combined into a burning desire for them both—for one man who had for some reason tricked her into believing he was really two.
Dammit, she hated feeling this way.
But she could control it. She could get past it. She'd dealt with lies and betrayals before and survived it, hadn't she? She could do it again. But nothing, nothing infuriated her more than being made a fool of. And this time she was going to get a pound of flesh in return. Wes was going to live to regret the day he'd tried to pull one over on Taylor McCoy.
Damn. Why did it hurt so much?
She cried herself to sleep. And she dreamed a very strange dream. In which she saw a woman who looked like her, lying very still on the cold ground. Eyes open, but unseeing. And a man—a man who looked like Wolf Shadow—kneeling beside her, crying. The dream wrenched at her on a deep level she didn't understand, and she woke with a start, sitting up fast and wide-eyed.
"Just a dream," she muttered, pushing her hair out of her eyes. She sat still, consciously calming her breathing, waiting for her heart to slow down to a normal rate again. But there was a smell. Wood smoke, pungent and soothing somehow. A fire's glow painted the front of her tent from without. The yellow flicker managed to permeate the fabric, and she could feel the warmth making its way inside, as well. And the invitation was too much to resist. A glance at her watch told her there were only a couple of hours until morning. No one would be out there. Hard to believe the kids would have built up a campfire and left it burning, but apparently someone had.
She slid out of her sleeping bag, and slowly pushed the tent flap open to peer outside. No one was there, so she stepped out, drawn closer to the fire's warmth and the snapping and crackling that was like a night song. She stood close, her back chilled while the front of her soaked up the heat.
And then a woolen blanket was gently draped over her shoulders, and she caught her breath, looking up quickly.
Wes smiled down at her, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. Her heart started to melt. She hardened it. He'd lied to her, deceived her, probably hadn't felt a thing for her at all. She couldn't forget that. No matter how the firelight painted the angles of his face or lit up his eyes.
He lifted a hand to her face, ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek. "You've been crying," he said.
She shrugged and averted her eyes. "The dig's been a big disappointment. I haven't found anything but what I'd expect to find in a normal Comanche village. It's … frustrating."
"But that's not what's bothering you."
Taylor stared into the flames, because it was easier than looking into his eyes and wishing he'd just tell her the truth. "No."
He pressed a palm to her cheek, turning her head toward him, probing her eyes with his. "Tell me."
Taylor drew a breath, fought to keep her chin high, to make her voice firm and emotionless. "I saw him tonight. Wolf Shadow. He said he wouldn't be coming back again, and I believe him." In spite of herself, her gaze lowered to the ground. "So there's no reason for you to stay on the site any longer."
He was quiet for a long moment. Not touching her. Just standing there, so close she wished he would. Then he said, "I would have said there was a damned good reason for me to stay." He bent a little, dipping his head so he could get a look at her lowered eyes. "But maybe I was wrong about that."
"Maybe you were." The breath rushed out of him. Taylor looked up to see him standing there, eyes closed tight as if he were in pain.
Without opening them, he whispered, "Is it because of him? Are you—?"
"Am I what? In love with him?"
Wes's eyes flashed open, and she saw the jealousy flash in their depths so plainly it was unmistakable. She frowned in confusion. How could he be jealous of her feelings for a man who was … who was him?
"Are you?" he asked, and he held her gaze, his own burning.
"How could I be? I've told you how important honesty is to me, Wes. How could I possibly fall in love with a man who won't tell me who he really is, or why he wants me to leave this place? A man who claims to be a ghost when I know perfectly well he's as real as … as real as you are."
It was Wes's turn to look away. Was he ashamed, then? She hoped so. He ought to be.
"If it isn't him," he said, his voice low and measured, "then what, Taylor? I
thought … I thought we had something."
She shook her head slowly. "Maybe we did. Or maybe it was wishful thinking. I don't really know what I believe anymore. This whole thing with Wolf Shadow has me questioning everything I think is real."
"I don't—"
"I'm the only one who saw him, Wes. He says he isn't real, so what if it's true? What if he isn't real? What if nothing I think of as reality is real? How can I trust my own feelings? And if I don't trust mine, how can I trust yours?"
"You aren't making any sense."
"I'm making perfect sense and you know it."
He went still, silent, searching her face.
"I think you've been keeping as many secrets from me as Wolf Shadow has, Wes." She lowered her head. "So there it is. I won't be lied to. I won't. I can't."
Silence. Long, tense silence, and she waited. His hand came to her shoulder, but she shrugged it away, took a step to put distance between them, turned to look at him. "So are you ready to tell me the truth yet?"
And he was starting to get it. She could see it in his eyes, a slowly dawning horror. "What do you want to know?"
She shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe you can start by explaining why you felt it necessary to make a complete fool of me. To make me believe I was falling for two men, when they were actually one and the same."
It was as if all the life went out of him. His shoulders slumped, his head lowered. "You know." It was a flat, toneless statement.
"Yeah," she said. "I know." She turned toward her tent.
Wes caught her shoulders and turned her to face him again. "I don't know what you're thinking, Taylor, but it's wrong. I can explain all this. Once you understand, you—"
"It's too late for that."
"It's not."
She put her hands on his, removing them from her shoulders, and dropped them at his sides. "The time to explain all this, Wes, was the first time you kissed me and made me think it was real. Or when you took me up to that ranch and convinced me we shared the same dreams. Or when—"
"Dammit, Taylor, all of that was real."
Maggie Shayne - Badland's Bad Boy Page 12