Misplaced Hands: 4 (Foreign Affairs) (13 page)

Oh thank God. He’s leaving.

The sound of the lock sliding into place chilled Harper’s blood. “Ronnie?” Her pulse pounding, she took a step back. “What are you doing?”

Ronnie swung to face her again. With a slow rake of his stare over her body, he placed his hat on the stand beside the now closed door. “Told you.” His voice was low. Steady. “Thought I’d see how you’re going.”

He took a step toward her. A step she mirrored backward. “I’m well.” She tried like hell to keep the apprehension out of the words. “Enjoying my time here. Looking forward to going into Cobar tonight. I’ve heard the bar, I mean pub, gets a little crazy at night. Annie says the hot weather will bring out the yobbos. She’s obviously been here too long because she’s using Aussie terms I don’t understand. I guess that’s what happens when you live in the Outback and are surrounded by Australians, don’t you think?”

Harper was babbling. She knew that. But she was scared. She didn’t like the way Ronnie was looking at her, as if he were slowly stripping her dress off with his stare. She didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to hurt her, but she sure as shit didn’t like the way he’d locked the door before walking closer.

She shot a quick look around her, seeking a weapon. Christ, even a vase or candlestick.

Nothing.

“How was work today?” She was desperate to keep the illusion of control and confidence. Andy always told her when you looked scared you became a victim.
Be strong, sis. Be confident. Let your eyes tell them to fuck off or they’ll be in a world of pain.

Whenever she’d asked him—as a painfully shy girl of eleven, then a shy teen—how she was going to put them in a world of pain, he’d always given the same answer.
I’ll put them in it for you, sis.

But Andrew wasn’t here now. And she had no doubt her eyes weren’t telling Ronnie to fuck off. Her eyes were telling him that she was scared.

Scared like she used to feel when her stepfather came into her room.

Scared like she used to feel when he—

“Work was interesting.” Ronnie’s voice, so smooth it was almost a purr, made her already frantic heart slam faster in her throat. She took another step backward, all too aware of the fact she was running out of room to retreat.

His gaze flicked over her again, lingering on her cleavage. Cleavage only half an hour ago she’d imagined Marc and Keith admiring.

“Especially,” he went on, his stare lifting to her face, “when I heard about you and Thomo and Blue.”

Harper’s mouth went dry. Her lips tingled. “W-what…what did you hear?”

He stopped moving. Harper realized it was because she couldn’t go any farther without bumping into the back of the sofa.

“I heard you and Thomo and Blue are fucking each other all over Farpoint.” The statement left him on a flat snarl.

She stared at him, unable to move. Unable to draw breath.

“So I figured,” Ronnie closed the minute space between them, his hot breath fanning her face, his legs pressing to hers, “seeing as you’re already giving it out to two Aussie men at the same time, you’d have no problem giving it out to a third. I promise, my dick is bigger than—”

Her palm smacked against Ronnie’s cheek.

A second before the door to her cottage slammed open with a splintering crash.

Ronnie stumbled away from her, part backward, part sideways, his head swinging toward the black thundercloud charging at him.

No, not a thundercloud. Keith, his blue eyes colder than winter ice, his face etched with deadly menace.

Ronnie’s stumble turned to a scurry, his hands held up, head shaking. “Fucking hit me, Munroe, and I’ll make sure you—”

Keith’s fist smashing into his jaw shut him up.

He staggered backward, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.

“Make sure what, Ronald?” Keith asked, following him, his fist drawing back. “Tell me. Go on.”

Ronald sneered, swiping at the blood on his lips. “Had your dick up her arse yet, Munroe?”

Keith’s punched him again, a blur of brutal speed. His fist cracked against Ronald’s jaw, the sound of splintering bone unmistakable.

Ronald stumbled once more, and again when Keith’s fist slammed into his mouth.

Harper stared at the scene, her mind blank. Her stomach churned, nauseous with stunned horror.

Keith hit the man again, again, driving him backward until Ronald crashed into the wall. He staggered sideways, head down, blood dripping from his mouth and nose, before—with a snarled “Fuck you, Munroe!”—he ran shoulder-first at Keith.

Harper cried out.

Keith’s knee punched up. Connected with Ronald’s nose.

Ronald arced backward, blood spattering from his mashed face.

Keith closed in on him, blood on his knuckles. Whose blood, Harper didn’t know.

“Keith!” she cried. “He’s not—”

“Going to kill you.” Ronald spat out a wad of blood. He stumbled forward, his glare fixed on Keith. “Going to fucking kill you, Munroe!”

Hatred fell over Keith’s face. “Try it.”

Ronald charged him again. Keith smashed his fist into his nose, his jaw.

The stockman fell, ass first, to the ground.

And Keith bore down on him, fist pulled back.

Only to have his arm snatched mid-swing by Marc, the sound of his palm smacking against Keith’s wrist like a crack of thunder. “You’re gonna kill him, Blue.”

Keith’s lip curled. His stare drilled into Ronald, now cowering on the floor at his feet. “That’s the idea.”

Harper let out a whimper, shaking her head. “He’s not worth it, Keith.” She stepped toward them, willing Keith to look at her. “He’s not worth going to jail over.”

The muscles in Keith’s jaw bunched. “He was going to—”

“But he didn’t,” Harper interjected.

“Don’t do it, Blue.” Marc struggled with his friend. Harper could see the tension in his muscles as he fought to keep Keith’s arm motionless. “Harper’s right. He’s not worth it.”

Keith shook his head. And then, his glare locked on Ronald, he opened his fist and stepped backward. “Turn yourself into Hunter, McNamara,” he said, his voice low. “Now. Or I’ll finish what I started.”

“Fucking have her then,” Ronnie snarled from the floor, throwing a glare of sheer contempt in Harper’s direction. He leaned forward and spat a glob of blood at her feet. “Bet she’s a dud root anyways.”

Marc cursed, strong arms grabbing Keith as he tried to lunge forward. “Get out of here, McNamara. Before I let go of Blue and he beats you to—”

Ronnie scrambled off his knees and bolted. Past Keith, past Marc, snatching his hat from the table as he ran out of the cottage.

Harper’s heart restarted. Smashing fast in her throat. She let out a choked breath, slumping against the back of the sofa, her hands clinging to the cushioned edge, her burning stare locked on her feet. “That…that wasn’t fun.”

Marc was at her side in two steps, smoothing his palms up her arms. “You okay, love?”

She flinched, twisting away from his gentle touch. Her stomach rolled, sick with a terror she thought she’d left behind years ago.

It’s okay, baby. You’re my special girl. My special—

“I’m fine,” she muttered, turning her head away as she wrapped her arms around her body. “I just need to be alone.”

“Alone?” Keith’s agitation was clear in the sharp word.

She flinched, hugging herself tighter. “Please.”

Oh God, Andrew. She wanted to call Andrew.

Her heart twisted, guilt and torment a physical pain she thought she’d put behind her.

“Harper,” Marc murmured, his hands smoothing up her arms again. “Big Mac’s gone. You’re o—”

“Don’t say the word okay!” she snapped, jerking her head to glare at him. Tears stung the backs of her eyes, hot acid that stripped away her dignity.

She’d never let her stepfather see her cry. She never cried in front of anyone but Andrew. Ever.

She wasn’t crying now.

Except she was. Hot tears slipped over her cheeks like burning trails of shame.

It’s okay, baby. You’re my special girl. My special sweet thing. This is just for me, okay? Just for me. No one else is allowed. It’s a special thing all daddies do. It’s okay, baby. Just let me touch—

Sickening hate and shame flooded her. She swallowed the bile threatening to choke off her throat.

“Harper,” Keith’s voice was steady. “Tell us what’s going on. What did McNamara do to you?”

She shook her head, refusing to look at him.

Never tell. Too shameful. Too scared. Never tell.

“Harper, I need to know.” The tips of Keith’s boots moved into her line of sight and she squeezed her eyes shut, driving her nails into her arms. “If he…” His voice cracked and he paused. “I’ll kill him. I promise, I’ll fucking rip the bastard apart and Marc won’t stop—”

Harper shook her head. “He didn’t touch me,” she said, her belly churning. The words were sour on her tongue. “He just…”

She couldn’t say any more. It was too shameful.

All daddies do it. Just let me touch you there. See? That didn’t hurt—

“Please go away,” she whispered, unable to look at either of them. “I need you to go away. Both of you.”

Neither man said a word.

Blood roared in her ears. Her head felt tight, as if something were clamping it. Trying to crush it. She blinked, the tears on her cheeks a bitter reminder of how pathetic she was.

“Go away,” she ground out, scraping her nails over her flesh. “I want to be alone.”

She heard a drawn-out breath. She didn’t know whose it was.

“C’mon, mate.” Marc’s mutter barely reached her ears. “We need to respect Harper’s wishes.”

Harper didn’t need to open her eyes to know Keith wasn’t moving. Of the two cowboys, Keith was the most stubborn. The most determined.

“Harper?” He spoke her name in a soft question.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t open her eyes. Didn’t lift her head.

That’s didn’t hurt, did it? That’s ’cause you’re my special girl. Now I’m going to do it again, but I want you to touch—

Shame sliced through her. Hot. Mortifying.

She caught her bottom lip with her teeth, biting hard into the flesh. Pain to numb the pain.

“Please,” she finally croaked, her mouth dry, her throat thick. “Just go. Please.”

The sound of boot heels on the cottage’s wooden floor told her Keith and Marc had left. She raised her head, blinking away the tears blurring her vision to stare at the closed door.

The doorjamb next to the lock was splintered, no doubt where Keith had kicked it open. She frowned, wondering if she could still lock it.

Swallowing the dust coating her mouth, she pushed herself away from the sofa and crossed the floor. A tremble was beginning to take her, deep within her core. She could feel it in her belly, her soul.

Refusing to let her hands shake, she flicked the little toggle that would engage the lock.

A dull click filled the room like a gunshot.

She fixed her stare on the knob, her heart slamming in her throat, and wrapped her fingers around the old brass knob.

She turned it to the right and pulled.

The door didn’t budge.

She was alone.

All alone.

“What the fuck do we do?” Marc stared at Amy’s cottage, his heart a sledgehammer in his chest. “We can’t leave her.”

“I don’t think we have a choice at the moment, mate.”

He glared at Keith, angry. Furious, in fact. Not an emotion he normally experienced. “So we’re heading off? What if Big Mac comes back?”

Keith shook his head, the sinking sun casting his face in dark shadows. “He won’t.”

Marc narrowed his eyes. “Do you think…” His fists balled. “Would McNamara really have…” He couldn’t bring himself to say what he was thinking. The idea was sickening. Ronnie McNamara was a tosser, but he wasn’t a rapist.

Was he?

Keith let out a choppy sigh. “I dunno, mate. Hughsie mentioned yesterday he’s been hitting the grog hard these last few days and he’s pissed off about Hazel putting him in his place on Saturday. I suspect he was hoping to have a shot at Harper himself before we came along and messed up his plans. That would explain him telling her we were gay.”

A scowl twisted Marc’s lip. “Harper and Big Mac? She’s got better taste than that.”

“She’s also scared out of her fucking mind right now.” Keith’s jaw bunched. “And that doesn’t sit well with me.”

Marc scrubbed his hands over his face. “Hell, you almost killed a guy in front of her with your bare hands. She’s bound to be scared. You reckon she needs some space from us?” A dull chill settled in his stomach at the thought. “She said Big Mac didn’t touch her. You reckon this, what we’ve been doing, is all…too much too soon?”

Another ragged breath left Keith. He swiped his hat from his head, worrying his hair with his other hand. “I dunno,” he muttered.