Sacrifice of Passion (Deadly Legends) (10 page)

Chapter Ten

Delaney woke with a start. She slowly shook the sleep away and was immediately bombarded with the memory of what had happened last night. After nearly wrecking her car, she’d been so unsettled by what had happened with Vic that she’d stood up Carmen and had come home, gone to bed exhausted, and then…

She’d awoken in Vic’s bed, naked, writhing on top of him, the orgasm just cascading over her… She shuddered, remembering the intensity of it. After all these years and the certainty that she’d never be able to have an orgasm with a man, she’d finally climaxed…and Vic Vargas had been responsible.

Her insides folded in on themselves, humiliation filling every one of her cells. She could never face him again. Not after… Oh God, how could this have happened?

Had he figured out that she hadn’t been awake during most of it?

So much for calling the shots in her own life. She couldn’t control what she did in her sleep no matter how hard she tried.

She’d brought this on herself. She’d learned over the years that whatever she felt and knew and wanted when she was awake was always heightened when she slept. She’d wanted him the first moment she’d laid eyes on him at El Charro the other night. His so-called deal. It had been front and center in her mind ever since he’d proposed it. She’d wanted to give in to him. And in her sleep, she’d acted on that desire.

She tried to fill in the blanks, piece together the missing information. All she could summon was the memory of kneeling over him, his tongue furiously licking her, the feel of his hands burned into the flesh of her hips where he’d gripped her, and then the intensity of the orgasm that had slammed through her body.

Groaning, she threw her pillow across the room. Frantically shook her head. On top of everything else, guilt carved its way through her. Vic had made her come with such ferocity and she’d left him with a massive hard-on. God, he was probably furious. Knowing him, he’d come after her, wanting answers.

And to finish what she’d started.

She rolled out of bed, tugged a brush through her hair, and slid on a pair of jeans and a tee. Just in time, too, she realized, when from her window she saw Deputy Braido pull up the driveway, with Alan Maldano in the passenger’s seat. Braido parked under the enormous oak tree, its bare branches creeping up into the vast sky. Alan hopped out and strode toward the barn. Braido slammed the door to his car, then walked to the front door.

She’d grown up with Derek Braido, Carmen and Jo Rios, Vic and Ray Vargas, and Chris and Jasper Locke, but they’d all changed over the years. She tried to imagine what Derek saw—through a lawman’s eyes, not through the eyes of Derek she’d known as a kid. A neat yard. Barren, even. The porch was decorated ranch style. An old wagon wheel, muddy boots, coils of rope. A place she’d once called home. A place she’d been forced to call home once again.

Braido raised his knuckles to the door and rapped against the beveled wood. He was handsome, she thought, and had always been about justice. Too bad he hadn’t been a deputy twelve years ago. Things might have turned out different.

Delaney straggled down the hall to see her mother fling open the front door. Her mother’s jaw seemed to slacken when she saw Braido, her impassive face instantly taking on a heavy frown. Then the frown vanished and she turned into the consummate southern matron.

Seeing Braido probably reminded her mother of the times Delaney had been brought home by the local law, having broken curfew to sneak out and see Vic.

“I’d like to have a word,” Braido said. “Is your husband home, ma’am?”

Delaney put on a sweatshirt and joined her mother, both of them stepping onto the front porch. “Derek,” she said. She had a hard time calling him Deputy. As a teenager, he’d been the hottest boy in school—next to Vic. He was still good-looking and she knew he had no shortage of female attention. Lucky him.

“Delaney,” he said with a nod.

A moment later, her daddy and Alan came toward him. Their gaits were uneven. Her daddy was shorter, his steps slower, while Alan’s strides were long, with solid heel-toe placement that left pockmarks in the ground. Both had on jeans and pale blue shirts. They could have been father and son, except that Alan’s hair still had its ash blond color where Red’s fiery strands had faded to a shimmery gray.

Another sliver of jealousy gripped her. Damn that goody-two-shoes Alan.

“Morning,” her daddy said, his voice carrying to her. “Find out anything?”

Derek tipped his hat in greeting, then said, “Alan found another one of your goats this morning. Drained, just like all the other animals.”

“
Another
goat?” Delaney shot a look at her dad. “I know James McDuff lost one, but you’ve lost two, Daddy?”

Her father gave a brief nod, his lips pressed together tight enough to lose color. “First one was a couple of days ago. We found it out at the four corners, where all the neighboring properties join.”

“People keep saying what’s happening to the animals reminds them of a chupacabra,” Braido said.

Which weren’t real. Still, Esperanza’s warning flashed immediately into Delaney’s mind, and she shivered involuntarily.

Alan stood stock still, and she thought she saw a bead of sweat on his forehead. Her daddy narrowed his green eyes at the deputy.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” her father said. “Those creatures don’t exist.”

“It’s from the devil himself,” Alan said somberly. “It’s a demon creature. If chupacabra has come, all of our animals are doomed.”

Demon creature? Was he serious? There had to be another explanation, just as the doc had said. But Esperanza had told her to be careful. Careful of what? None of this made sense.

“Red, you saw that other goat. Blood drained completely from its body—” The deputy paused when Alan inhaled sharply, muttered something to himself, and then pressed his fingertips to his lips. “Same thing with this one. Jasper Locke’s lost piglets the same way. Same with James McDuff. The sheep Vic Vargas found dead on his property could have been drained, too. It’s a slaughterhouse out there.”

A chill shot up her spine and breath whooshed out of her lungs. The world spun in slow circles. She hadn’t realized how many animals had been killed, or how close to home the animal killings had come. All the ranchers with adjoining properties had lost livestock this way. Exsanguinated.

The sun-drenched color drained from her dad’s face. He planted his feet and let fly a stream of tobacco spit as he looked at Derek. “So what’s your explanation?”

Braido didn’t answer right away, but studied the two men. Alan shuffled his feet. Her father glared. Delaney grew more tense with each passing second. Finally, the deputy shot her a look, then said to her father, “There’s more to this kill. It looks to me like pleasure was taken. Satisfaction from the slow death. Those are human emotions. That means it’s a person—a sick SOB—who did it. Not some mythical vampire creature.”

Delaney felt a chill wash over her. Sick was right.

“You’re sure you’ve never seen anything like this before?” Braido asked.

Alan opened his mouth, but her dad said, “Never. Son”—her daddy nodded to Alan—“go on and check the stock. Make sure they’re all accounted for. The Angoras and the cattle. The horses, too.”

Alan hesitated, throwing a look at her before he nodded and walked off.

“No reason you can think of why someone would collect the blood from an animal?”

Her dad shook his head. “No idea.”

“Why in heaven’s name would—” Her mother snapped her mouth shut.

Delaney watched them, something in her gut on alert.

“Anyone have a grudge against you?” Braido asked.

They shook their heads simultaneously. “Of course not.”

“Right.” Braido’s expression said he wasn’t so sure. He tipped his hat as he headed off the porch. “Well, you let me know if you think of anything. And be safe.”

He headed back to his cruiser, and Delaney was left with an aching head and a growing fear in her gut. The curandera had told her to be careful of the chupacabra. That her life was in danger. Could that be true?

…

Delaney walked back to her room, totally unnerved. A dead goat—make that three dead goats. And Vic’s sheep, Jasper’s pigs, and God knew how many other dead animals by now. All with their blood sucked dry. And by some warped individual who’d been wandering around on her parents’ property.

Oh, God.

The pads of her fingers gently touched the hickey she’d found on her neck this morning, a vivid reminder of her latest nighttime episode. The one that had taken her to Vic in the middle of the night. Through the pastures between their two ranches. Right past the hill where they’d found her father’s first dead goat. She wondered where Alan found the other animal…and whether it had died before or after she’d returned home…

Chupacabra
. Esperanza’s warning ricocheted in her mind again.
It’s after you. Be careful, my child, or you will die…

It—whatever or whomever it was—was on a killing spree.

She should not be wandering around out there at night. God. She’d knocked the screen out of her bedroom window the night before, run across acres of land to be with Vic, all without waking up. The other nights she’d left the house, unlocking deadbolts, without her parents ever even realizing she was gone. With some sick individual out there, she couldn’t risk sleepwalking—what if she stumbled upon the person while they were slaughtering an animal? So far the victims had only been animals. But that could change. Delaney wrapped her arms around her body and fought the shiver that crept up her spine. Was the curandera right? Was she next?

The guest cabin, where she’d thought she’d stay to get away from Alan, stood just under two acres from her parents’ house. There was only one door, and the windows were too high to easily climb out. With a little creativity, maybe she could find a way to stop herself from leaving in the middle of the night. She’d think of something. She couldn’t let herself wander around outside when the chupacabra was still killing.

From the front of the house, she heard voices. Her dad, and another man. Alan? But he couldn’t be back from checking on the livestock.

The sound escalated to arguing, and that’s when she recognized Vic’s low timbre.

Her heart stalled. Oh, no.

She could hide in her room and pretend last night had never happened. She really was dead tired. Wanted only to crawl back into bed. But she knew Vic wouldn’t let her off that easy. He’d want answers about last night, and she was going to have to give them. Reluctantly, she walked out to the den.

Her sun-scorched father stood in the doorway, his frayed cowboy hat pushed back on his head.

Vic, looking tall, dark, gorgeous—and frustrated as hell—stood next to him.

“Oh, boy.” She could see the anger in his face, and felt heat creep up the back of her neck, spreading to her cheeks. She was responsible for that anger. For the frustration in his eyes.

Suddenly, she had second thoughts about facing him. She turned to rush back down the hall.

Before she’d gone three steps, he caught her by the arm. “We need to talk, Delaney. Now.”

She looked at his hand that gripped her arm, but he didn’t release her. “No,” she said, shifting her gaze to his lust-filled eyes. She swallowed. “We don’t.”

“Oh, yeah. We definitely do.”

“You heard her,” her father growled. “Get your hands off my girl.”

But Vic ignored him and pulled her toward the front door. “Simmer down, Red,” he said. “Delaney and I just have some unfinished business to discuss, don’t we darlin’?” Vic moved his hand from her arm to her lower back as he guided her onto the porch.

Options ran through her mind. She could fight. Scream. Tell her father she didn’t want to talk to Vic. But those were all temporary solutions to a bigger problem. Vic was right. They did need to talk. And they might as well get it over with. “I’m fine, Daddy,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

The door closed and Vic immediately launched into her. “You want to fill me in on the game you’re playing, Laney?”

She folded her arms over her chest, acutely aware of the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra under her sweatshirt. And that she could picture his hard, lean body in her mind. Knew exactly what it felt like to be skin to naked skin with it. “I…” She stopped. Closed her eyes. She knew just how he tasted. His scent. She looked at him again. “I’m not playing any games.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “The hell you aren’t,” he said through clenched teeth. He leaned close to her and lowered his voice. “You broke into my house in the middle of the night and woke me up—”

“You don’t need to say it,” she snapped, her hand shooting toward his chest to maintain the space between them.

He gave her a smile that didn’t have an ounce of humor in it and placed his hand on hers, pulling it down to her side as he leaned his shoulder against the wall. “Don’t I?” His lips brushed her earlobe as he whispered, “You woke me up with your kisses and you told me exactly what you wanted me to do to you…”

Oh, God. She didn’t want to hear this.

“It was good, Delaney. We’re good together—”

“Stop!” She slammed her palms to her ears.

Lines curved their way around his mouth as his lips tipped up. “I can’t.”

This couldn’t be happening. Her eyes burned. She dropped her hands back to her sides. “Last night was a mistake…”

“No, it wasn’t,” he said with a succinct shake of his head. “Last night was making up for lost time.”

Slouching against the wall, she shook her head. Her subconscious mind had taken over while she’d slept and made her do everything she’d thought about doing with him when she was awake. Well, almost everything.

She opened her mouth to speak. To tell him that she had no idea what she’d done until she’d woken up on top of him, his mouth on her, her body exploding…

“Next time, Laney, it’s my turn.”

What was he talking about? She looked into his smoky eyes. “Next time?”

“Oh, yeah, next time.” He moved closer to her, his voice a sexy rumble. “And the time after that, and the time after that.”