See How She Dies (19 page)

When she was gone he flopped back on the weathered cedar shakes, angrily gazed up at the stars, and wondered why he was such a fool. He could have had her; she was there for the taking and he, because of some latent sense of nobility, had shrugged off her advances. He could still smell her perfume mingled with the lingering smoke from her cigarettes and he remembered her touch—that warm, bone-melting touch.

Jesus, you're an idiot!

 

For the next few days, Zach managed to keep his distance. Up hours before Katherine ever thought about rising, he worked long hours in the fields and returned at sundown. Kat, invariably, was locked in her room, the television blasting. He never ran into her. As for his siblings, they all bothered him. Jason kept crowding him, offering to take him into Bend to meet women, but Zach declined and Jason went off prowling on his own. Trisha was pining for Mario and probably plotting her escape from the family compound. Sometimes she reeked of marijuana smoke and her eyes were often glassy. Zach had less trouble dealing with her stoned than when she was straight and plotting ways to escape. As for Nelson, the kid was still in the throes of hero worship, tagging after Zach as he went about his chores, trying to find ways to talk about his night with the prostitute. It didn't seem to matter how many ways Zach explained that nothing really had happened except that he'd managed to get a few new scars; Nelson was still enthralled, certain that Zach had really “scored” with the whore but was protecting her honor, or some such crap.

The kid was sick, Zach thought as he stepped out of the shower and threw on a pair of cutoffs. Nelson's fascination with all things sexual seemed bent. He wanted to know all about bondage and S&M and all that shit that Zach didn't really know about and didn't want to know. Men and women in leather and chains—like some kinky group of Hell's Angels or something. It kind of made his skin crawl.

Pushing all thoughts of Nelson aside, Zach found leftovers in the kitchen, and since the maid had already retired for the night, he heated up the pork chops in the microwave, snatched himself a beer out of the fridge, and took his meal onto the back porch where the old collie was curled near the swing. Shep perked up at the smell of the meat and whined as Zach sat down and started in on the chops.

“Don't give me that,” he said to the dog. “You're too fat as it is.” Shep thumped his tail on the floorboards. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted softly and the sounds of bats' wings disturbed the silence. The air smelled of horses, dust, and sagebrush. Zach thought he could find peace out here in the middle of nowhere. If it weren't for his family.

Zach finished his dinner, tossed the bones to the dog, and wiped his fingers on the frayed edges of his cutoff Levi's. He finished his Budweiser in two swallows, then walked back to the kitchen for another. Downing the second can quickly, he began to feel a slight buzz as he crushed the aluminum in his fist. He made his way back to his room, where he flipped on his stereo and flopped onto this bed. The song was an old one by the Doors.

“…Come on baby, light my fire…”

Like Kat. Boy, could she light dangerous fires. Zach closed his eyes and let the music surround him.

“…Try and set the night on
fire!
”

The French doors were cracked and the hint of a breeze stirred the curtains. His eyes opened and he stared up at the ceiling. He was hard, as hard as he'd been when Kat had kissed him on the roof of the tack room. Just thinking about being with her had given him wet dreams for three nights running. The ache in his loins was so bad that he'd even considered driving into Bend with his brother and looking for some woman who would ease his pain, but the memory of his last visit to a whore had kept him at the ranch. He didn't need any more trouble but, Lord, did he need some release. The pressure. Pounding, pounding…

Deep down, in the darkest oblivion of his soul, he knew that he didn't want just any woman, that though he would go through the motions with any willing female, he was certain that anyone but Kat wouldn't do and Kat, his
stepmother
, was the worst choice of all. He rolled over to his side and considered jacking off. It sure as hell wouldn't be the first time, but it left him so…empty or lonely or feeling stupid.
Face it, Danvers, you want her. All you have to do is walk down the hall, turn the corner, and tap on her bedroom door and the sweetest bit of pussy this side of the Rockies will be waiting to give you any fantasy you can dream up!

His throat was so dry he couldn't draw up any spit and he squeezed his eyes shut, resigned to his fate as he reached for the fly of his pants.

He heard the creak of the door, felt the wind turn, and his heart jolted. His eyes flew open. At first he thought she was a vision, the beautiful woman on the other side of the glass. Moonlight spangled Kat's black hair silver and her silk pajama top shimmered. His heart began to pump so loudly that he was certain she could hear it.

The doors opened further and dry leaves blew into the room. The wind tossed her hair away from her face and as she entered the room, he saw the tears glistening in her eyes. Her lips trembled and her nose ran.

“What—what are you—?”

“Just hold me, Zach,” she whispered in a voice strangled by grief.

“What is it?”

Walking numbly to the edge of his bed, she sniffed loudly, then stood in front of him, as if hesitating.

He drew himself into a sitting position. “You shouldn't be here, Kat—”

“I know, but…Oh, God…” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and tears trickled down her cheeks. Between the broken sobs she said, “Witt just called and the police have run out of leads…the investigation is still open but they all think, the police and the FBI, that London…that London is dead.” The last word was barely a squeak and Zach couldn't help himself. He stood and took her into his arms, trying to comfort her as sob after heart-wrenching sob shook her body.

“Oh, God. Oh, God.” Burying his face in the crook of her neck, holding her close, he willed himself to think of her not as a woman, but as a person to whom fate had handed a crushing blow. She clung to him and cried like a child, her tears raining down his chest. He told her it would be all right, that of course London was alive, that someday they would all see her again, but even as he said the words, he believed them to be lies.

When at last the racking sobs quieted, he lifted his head. “You should go back to the room, take some sleeping pills—”

“I can't. I don't want to be alone. Please, Zach, don't make me go. Let me stay with you. Just hold me. Please.” Her words held the echo of doom, but he couldn't deny her and when she turned her face up to his, he kissed her trembling lips, knowing that he was about to cross a threshold from which there was no return. Life would never be the same. The truth would be blurred with lies, but he kissed her and she responded, her body quivering in fear and desire.

His brain thundered and his blood turned to liquid heat as she let her fingers slide down his scarred back, along the slope of his spine and lower still to his buttocks. He felt his already stiff cock rise to the occasion, knew there was no turning back as she tugged and the buttons holding his cutoffs together popped in a ripple and her hands were upon him. Warm and soft, her fingers brought a magic that he never dreamed existed.

They tumbled on the bed together, lips searching, tongues eager and before he could consider all the consequences of his actions, Zachary stripped her of her nightshirt, ripping the buttons from their holes as the seams of the soft fabric gave way. Then he gazed at her breasts, felt the gentle pressure of her fingers on his spine, and watched as she licked her lips. He could barely breathe when she ran her tongue across his nipples and anxiously parted her legs, lifting her hips to rub her dewy nest of curls to his crotch.

He thought he might come all over her. “Kat—”

“Just do it, Zach. Please.” Her fingers dug deep into his muscles.

Closing his eyes, he entered into that moist, dark warmth. A primal cry rumbled from his throat and he couldn't stop himself. In three long strokes it was over; Zachary came fast and hot and fell against her, realizing dimly that he'd just doomed himself to a living hell. No son dared lose his virginity to his father's wife and expect to survive.

But he didn't care. He wrapped himself in her warmth and kissed her again, more sure of himself. He'd take it slower with her this time, learn from her and be the best damned lover she ever had.

 

Zach couldn't remember when he'd slept so soundly. He moved slightly and felt another body, warm and soft and naked. With a smile, he remembered the night of lovemaking and he rolled over to find Kat, her eyes half open, staring at him. Dawn was breaking over the horizon and soon the ranch hands would be up; she had to leave.

“I wondered how it would be with you,” she said as she slid a finger along the scar that was still visible near his hairline. Though she smiled, a sadness lingered in her eyes.

“How was it?” He nuzzled her check. Though it was dangerous to be with her, he couldn't give up. He'd made love to her three times last night, and he'd woken up with a hard-on. Maybe there was still enough time for a quick…

“It was the best, Zach,” she said, though her face remained troubled and he knew she was lying.

He touched her hair, brushing soft curls off her face and wished he could stop the agony that pinched the corners of her mouth. As if reading his thoughts, she began to weep; tears suddenly starred her lashes and he pulled her closer to him, holding her naked body next to his. “Don't worry.”

“I can't help it, I—”

“Shh. We'll find London.” He felt suddenly strong, as if he could change the world. “I'll find her.”

“Oh, Zach, what can you do—”

“You'd be surprised.” His hands found her breasts and he toyed with a nipple that stiffened expectantly under the gentle teasing of his fingers. “Let me show you—”

She broke off suddenly, her eyes wide. “Do you hear anything?”

“No—”

“I do.” She scrambled away from him. “I hear something—”

Zach listened and groaned at the sound of an engine whining as some kind of vehicle—most likely a truck—approached.

“Probably Pete coming early. He does that sometimes,” Zach said, already aroused again. God, he couldn't get enough of her. He let one hand rest on the curve of her waist.

“You sure?” she asked.

“Mmm.” He listened again and felt his heart knock a bit. The engine wasn't the deep rumble of a truck, but the smooth purr of an expensive car's engine as it sped down the lane. An expensive car like a Lincoln Continental. “Oh, God.”

Gravel crunched and brakes squealed.

“Witt,” Katherine mouthed.

“No—” But even as he denied it, he heard the car door open and brisk footsteps sound on the path. Footsteps he'd recognize anywhere. Authoritative footsteps belonging to his father. Footsteps of doom. “Damn it, Kat! You've got to get out of here.”

But it was too late. The front door opened and the footsteps continued the short distance to the master bedroom. Kat froze at the muted rap of fingers against wood.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Oh, God, oh, God.”

“Leave. Through here.” He was pushing her now, toward the open French doors. She rolled out of bed, grabbed her torn nightshirt and was stepping outside when Witt's voice reverberated through the rooms. “Katherine? Are you here?” There was a worried edge to his voice.

“Go!” Zach reached for his cutoffs as he heard the first door in the hallway open, then close. Only a few more seconds.

The door to his room opened just as Kat disappeared through the doors.

His father looked gigantic. Zach didn't bother feigning sleep and Witt didn't say a word, just looked at the rumpled sheets and sniffed at the lingering odor of Katherine's perfume. His mouth flattened to a white line of fury and an ugly tic developed under his eye. “Get out,” he said under his breath. Zach rolled off the bed as his father's fist collided with his face. Pain exploded in his jaw. “You no-good bastard!”

“Witt!” Kat stood in the doorway, her fingers curling over the brass door handle. “Don't. It…was my fault.”

“Your fault? You forced him to screw you?” He slammed Zach against the wall. Zach's head smacked against the plaster and pieces of stucco crumbled to the floor. Pain ripped all the way down his spine. “You fucking son of a bitch!” Witt snarled, shaking the life from him as the mirror over the bureau rattled. “I always suspected you were no son of mine and now I'm sure of it. Get out before I kill you!”

Zach staggered toward the door. His eyes barely focused and he felt something sticky and wet running down the back of his head.

“You can't do this!” Katherine cried and Zach heard a slap that made his stomach turn over. He turned and saw the welt forming on Katherine's cheek and Witt's stunned expression, as if he couldn't believe that he'd struck her.