Sacrifice of Passion (Deadly Legends) (17 page)

She’d fallen for Vic again, but she wasn’t at all sure that he’d fallen for her in the same way. How could he? She might be dangerous—certainly dangerous to be around. She was unstable, unpredictable, with her sleepwalking affliction. What if she really had something to do with the animals being killed? Her stomach turned over at the very idea.

Logically, she didn’t think she could be involved. But either way, she shouldn’t be here, putting Vic and Zach at risk, and intruding as they tried to form a little family of two.

“Hi,” she said, entering the kitchen. Zach sat at the kitchen table doing his homework, and Vic leaned against the counter. He looked at her, the smoky blue of his eyes darkening, his gaze penetrating. A lump formed in her throat. She felt as if he could read her mind. As if he could plainly see how her body ached for him.

Was he really just finishing up old business between them? His kindness to her now simply a way to assuage his guilt at standing her up, now that he knew the awful truth about that night? Neither thought eased her mind.

“How’s the foal?” Zach blurted, oblivious to the tension, his schoolbook forgotten. “Is she growing?”

He suddenly seemed lit up from the inside out and she couldn’t help but laugh. She eased down on a chair across from him, favoring her painful ribs. “I heard from Chris. He’s Jasper’s brother. He quit his job at the hardware store and is looking after the Locke ranch now. He says the foal is doing great.”

“A name’s really important.” Zach’s brows came together seriously. “Did Jasper name her before he…you know…?”

She felt her eyes well up. Zach had named his piglet Sheila, after his mother. “You’re so right. A name is super important.” She leaned toward him and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I bet if Jasper were here, he’d ask you to name the foal.”

Zach blinked quickly and looked down at his book. “Oh…”

Vic shifted, crossing one leg over the other. “She’s right. That’s exactly what Jasper would want.”

His voice had broken slightly, the barest hint of emotion slipping through his words. Delaney could see the pain on his face. He’d lost a good friend.

And the loss of Jasper was somehow connected to her. “You should name her, Zach,” she said, pushing away the depressing thought.

The boy glanced shyly at her, a hint of adoration in his gray-blue eyes. Eyes that looked so much like his father’s. She swallowed. She wished his father would look at her with that same kind of honesty.

But then, she hadn’t exactly been honest with him, had she? Not until she’d had no choice. Who could blame him for being guarded?

Vic clapped his hands together. “You think about it, Zach. You’ll come up with a great name. Now, how about a snack?”

Zach sat there, still staring at his book, not acknowledging that his father had even spoken.

She stretched her hand across the table toward Zach’s, wincing at the pain that racked her body with even such a small movement. “I bet your dad makes a mean PB&J. I could go for one.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “How about you?”

Zach nodded, not quite smiling. His frown, at least, was not so pronounced. “I bet yours is better.”

She waved away the comment. “No way. Not as good as your dad’s.”

Zach shifted in his chair until his back was turned to Vic. A silent commentary about Vic being his father, she thought. Her heart ached for them both.

Vic pushed away from the counter. He gathered up the schoolwork that was spread across the table and picked up Zach’s backpack. Delaney watched him walk out of the kitchen, the strength of his body evident as he moved down the hall. It was his insides that were being ripped apart, she thought sadly. She knew the feeling.

The click of his cowboy boots slowly faded.

She busied herself making a sandwich, then handed it over to Zach. He took a big bite, then a swig from the glass of milk she placed in front of him.

She sat down across from him again, absently pulling the crust off her own sandwich. “How do you like your new school?”

He took another drink of milk, answering her with peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth. “Ish okay.”

“I just moved back here, you know. From Austin.”

“You used to live here?”

“Yep. I grew up here. I’ve known your dad for a long time.” Not that she knew what any of that history meant to him, if anything. He’d suggested that deal as a way to purge her from his life. But after they’d made love, he’d started to seem…different. Probably wishful thinking on her part. All she knew was that their relationship, uncertain as it was, had come to mean the world to her.

Zach finished off his sandwich, washing it down with the last of his milk. “Did you know my mom, too? Before she died in the car crash?”

She kept her face neutral. Sheila had been bossy and sexy and full of life. But they were treading in dangerous waters now, and she was afraid one false move could take Zach under and away from her. “Yes. I knew her.”

His lips tightened into a thin, trembling line but he stayed quiet, just watching her.

“Zach,” she said, forcing any residual anger she had toward Sheila out of her mind. “Your mom loved you. You know that, right?”

He shook his head, his face contorting as his eyes brimmed and a fat tear slid down one cheek. “Do you want to know what she said?” He studied his hands.

When he looked up, she nodded encouragingly. He was talking to her. Opening up. If she could find a way to help him connect with Vic…

“My dad,” he blurted. “She said he left us both. Before I was born.” His tears flowed freely now. “How could he do that? And now he acts like he wants me. I hate him!”

She reached across the table and gently laid her hand on top of his. She’d left Vic and he seemed to have forgiven her. Zach would grow to forgive his father, too. “Zach, I’ve seen in your dad’s eyes exactly how he feels about you. He loves you very much.”

He hung his head, pulled his hand out from under hers. His shoulders lifted, slowly at first, then in a full-on heave. “She left me, too.”

“It was an accident. She didn’t want to go away.”

“My dad never wanted me. I shouldn’t be here.”

She drew in a quiet breath. “Yes, you should. He does want you.” She believed that with all her heart. No matter why Vic hadn’t been there for Zach at the beginning, she knew he was here for his son now. “No matter what, never doubt that.”

Zach looked up at her, his icy blue eyes rimmed red. “Does he love you?”

She tucked her hands under her thighs, her breath suddenly constricting. To be loved by Vic Vargas—the mere idea of it sent a thrill of longing through her body. She yearned for it, wished it would happen, wanted to fill his heart as much as he’d filled hers.

“I think he used to.”

Zach’s tears dried up, his trembling lip gaining control again. “But not anymore?” That had earned his instant sympathy. Comrades in rejection.

“It’s complicated.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m eleven.”

“Yes, you are.”

“So why doesn’t he love you anymore?”

She ran her fingers through her hair, desperately wishing she could change the direction of this conversation. “People can fall out of love,” she said finally.

But she’d never fallen out of love with Vic, she realized with pure clarity. She’d fought it. Had been distracted by life. By nightmares. But deep down, she’d always loved him. A thrilling combination of heat and longing surged through her, taking her breath away. She loved Vic Vargas. Always had, always would.

Through hazy eyes, she saw the puzzled expectation on Zach’s face. He was waiting for an answer that he could understand.

“People can find love, too, Zach. Even when they aren’t looking, or don’t think they wanted to find it, they can discover that love fills a hole in them”—she put her fingers to her chest—“right here, in their heart. A hole they didn’t even know they had.” Her voice broke. She took Zach’s hand again. “Like how your dad feels about you now. You’re a part of him, Zach. You’re his son.”

“She’s right, you know.” Vic’s deep voice came from behind her.

Delaney’s heart lodged in her throat. She and Zach both spun around. How long had he been standing there?

He walked to the table, slow and purposeful. He took his cowboy hat off and hung it on the back of a chair, sitting on the one next to it. “Sometimes the truth is hard to hear.”

“Mom says…said…lies are bad.”

“I agree. I won’t ever lie to you, son. Which is why you can believe me when I tell you, I didn’t leave you.” He hesitated before continuing. “I’ve never told anyone but your Uncle Ray about this, but maybe it’s time.” He leaned forward, looking pointedly in the boy’s eyes. “Zach, I didn’t
know
about you.”

Delaney froze. Vic hadn’t known about Zach?

Zach’s eyes brimmed. “I don’t believe you.”

Delaney focused on the boy. Obviously he was shocked at hearing something about his mother that painted her in a different light. She willed Vic to have the strength and compassion not to say too much. Zach was just a kid.

“Your mom thought she could give you a great life on her own. And she did, just as long as she was able.” Vic’s smoky eyes grew shiny, his carefully controlled emotions shimmering in them. “Now it’s my turn. If you’ll give me a chance.”

“She kept me a secret from you?” Zach asked uncertainly, wavering between disbelief…and a grain of hope.

Vic nodded. “From everyone in San Julio.” His eyes flicked to Delaney. “Everyone has secrets. Right, Laney?”

She forced herself not to throw herself into his arms and tell him how sorry she was for all the useless secrets they’d held from each other. “Yeah, they do.”

Disbelief won out. Zach shoved his plate across the table and flung back his chair. “You’re lying!”

Vic’s jaw clenched, the only outward sign of his agitation. “I’m telling you the truth, buddy. I didn’t know about you until after she died.”

Zach stood there speechless, and then he suddenly took off, rushing through the kitchen door and jumping off the steps.

Vic shoved out of his chair, but stopped himself at the door. As he turned back to her, Delaney saw him take a few deep breaths, saw control slowly sink back into him, saw his face soften slightly. “Guess it’s best to let him cool off,” he finally said.

“I think you’re right. Give him time.” She told herself to take her own advice. Give Vic time. She’d forgiven him for standing her up. He seemed to have forgiven her for leaving. Maybe in time he’d really start to care for her again. Truly care, not just—

“Delaney…” His tone of voice, the fact that he called her by her full name, the determination that suddenly filled his face, crawled through her brain. “You need to be straight with me.”

Her head grew spongy. What now? “O-okay.”

“I heard what you said to Zach,” he said, leaning forward.

She stilled, her heart hiccupping. “Oh.” She scrambled to remember…

“Laney…” He paused. “You left so long ago. There have been other women, other distractions—” He motioned around them. “This ranch. Now Zach. But—”

She felt her heart start again, knew what she wanted him to say. And knew he wouldn’t. “I know,” she whispered.

“He’s my family now.”

She sat motionless, fighting her instinct to run. She was always running, but it had never helped. She still sleepwalked. Her life still fell apart. The one man who made her feel like her future wasn’t hopeless had done the right thing.

He’d chosen to be a father to his son.

He was trying to tell her he didn’t have room for her in his life. Her insides felt hollow, and she didn’t know what to say. So she fell back on instinct, and rose. She had to leave—okay, had to
run
—before she fell apart.

The back door blew open and Zach stood there, his face chapped from the cold wind outside, tears leaving track marks as they streamed down his face. “Sheila’s gone,” he wailed. “The gate to her pen is open and she’s gone.”

Chapter Sixteen

The rain had stopped and the sky had cleared, but after a two-hour search, dusk had come and Vic, Delaney, and Zach still hadn’t found Sheila. The piglet really was missing. Vic slammed his fist against the wall, anger flooding him. All he’d had to do was keep the pig safe, and he hadn’t even been able to do that much for his son. So much for being a good father.

Zach had finally gone to bed, and by the time Vic had gone in search of Laney, she’d been stretched out on his bed, still fully clothed but fast asleep. Exhausted and wrung out because she’d insisted on helping to search, even though he could tell her ribs hurt like hell.

He stood in the doorway, listening to the peaceful sound of her breathing, smelling the scent of her. She invaded every pore of his body. He’d tried to tell her earlier that she filled the hole that had been in him since she’d left San Julio. That he’d never stopped loving her. But fatherhood had interrupted, and now she’d fallen asleep.

Later. He’d tell Delaney West he loved her later.

Vic stepped into the room, just to pull the covers up over her, he told himself. But that was a complete lie. He wanted to see her again. Her coppery hair spilled across his beige pillowcase. He could see the curves of her breasts underneath her wrap-around shirt, the faint outline of her nipples tormenting him. His erection hit him hard and fast. The feeling was all too familiar now that Delaney was back in his life. He needed her. Every bit of her,

But now was not the time or the place.

He pulled the blanket to her shoulders and hurried out of the bedroom. Help her first, give in to his feelings for her after she was safe.

He spent the next hour on the couch in the den with the computer on his lap, searching the Internet about sacrifices. He eventually even pulled out a dusty copy of the Bible. The goats, the steer, Jasper… Could the rapist be repenting for his sin in his own twisted way? The idea was ludicrous, but it was possible.

Vic wouldn’t rest until he found out the truth. Delaney West was inside of him like no other woman had ever been. Like no one would ever be again. He had to protect her. And punish the bastard that had taken her innocence and ruined her life.

The darkness outside his windows deepened and still Laney slept. She hadn’t sleepwalked tonight. He was sure of that, at least.

His thoughts settled back onto his theory. If her rapist was seeking absolution, had they found it? Was the killing over, or would there be another mutilation? The one thing that didn’t fit was Jasper. Why kill him? Murder was a bigger sin than rape. Hardly absolution.

As he leaned back on the couch, his mind sifting through ideas, weariness enveloped him.

His mind softened as he thought about the goals he’d set for himself. He’d bought Tierra del Oro and become the rancher he’d always wanted to be. He was a father. Even if that part of his life hadn’t been planned, he was thankful for it. For Zach. And now, with Delaney, his life could be complete.

His breathing grew steady. Soft. Content.

An image of Laney came to him. Beside her was Zach. The boy held a shimmering gold star. It was the three of them at Christmas time, decorating the tree. A family.

Another sound filtered through his dream. Louder. Then a movement next to him on the couch. He opened his eyes. Saw Laney curled up next to him.

Having her in his house, so close to him, made him sweat. Made his heart stutter. Made him want to do whatever it took to make her safe.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said softly.

Suddenly, he couldn’t either.

…

Delaney waited for Vic to say something. She’d woken up in his bed, alone. All she could think was that he should be there with her. That without him, she felt a helpless longing. She’d come down and awoken him. But did he want her?

A shiver of anticipation shot through her as Vic slid across the couch. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t utter a sound as he pressed his lips to her neck. Moved his hands to her neck, his fingers snaking into her hair. She stifled the shooting pain in her ribs when he gently pulled her closer.

“Laney,” he whispered.

She felt his fiery breath on her skin, ached to feel the length of him against her. He’d witnessed so much. Had seen firsthand her complete lack of control. And he was still here with her. Holding her. Joy and relief spilled through her.

She slid her hands to the sides of his face, held him so she could nip softly along his jaw. Her erratic, aroused heartbeat thrummed in her ears. His eyes were slumberous. But suddenly his hands were around her wrists, pulling her arms down. “Delaney.”

Just like that, her mind skidded to a stop, jarred by his use of her full name. Hating how disconnected it made her feel. She tried to pull her wrists free. To kiss him.

If she blinked, she was so afraid he might disappear. The warmth of being in his house, of being wrapped up in his blanket, bolstered her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He leaned back, looking exhausted. Spent.

She buried her face in her hands for a beat. “For everything. For leaving San Julio. For doubting you. For thinking you’d abandon your child…” She looked up at him, expecting to see satisfaction in his expression. With her apology, surely his purging of her from his life would be complete.

But his expression softened. “Sweetheart, you should have told me.”

“Told you what?” she asked, her whole body tensing.

“About the rape,” he said quietly.

There was no horror in his voice. It was simply a sad statement. Maybe he didn’t blame her… “After I realized what happened, I—” She looked away, focusing on the blanket of darkness outside the window. “I couldn’t tell anyone. I was too ashamed.”

“Not even your parents?” When she shook her head, he said, “You have to know it wasn’t your fault.”

She said in a pained whisper, “I know.”

Sorrow etched the lines in his face. He took her hand, clasping it with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes. “Laney. I’m so sorry.” He started to say something else, but stopped, his expression radiating pain and regret. “Would you…” He paused, swallowing as if trying to collect himself. “Can you tell me how it happened?”

She twisted the blanket in her hands until her fingers hurt. Old memories stabbed through her. She didn’t want to relive them again. But the look in his eyes said he needed to hear this as much as she needed to tell him. Maybe this would help both of them move on.

She nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I, um—”

He waited, still allowing her to tell the story in her own time. She’d been so wrong about him back then. He wouldn’t have abandoned her. He would have listened, and helped her. She knew that now.
Too late
.

She took a deep, calming breath. “Earlier that evening we’d been making out in your truck, do you remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he said solemnly.

She’d never forgotten those precious hours, how dizzy with happiness she’d been as they planned their elopement, how the love she’d felt for him…from him…that night had sustained her through twelve lonely years.

“You dropped me off at my home,” she continued. “I was late. Some neighbors had been invited over for dinner. James McDuff and his wife. Jasper and Chris and their parents and Pastor Locke. Daddy and Alan barbequed, and after dinner, I got so sleepy. I was afraid I’d sleep through my alarm and not wake up in time to meet you. Three forty-five. Whenever I see that time on the clock, I still stop.” She fell deeper into her memory. “I went to bed early. I remember my mother being upset.”

Gently, he let his hand trail down to her shoulder. “Why?”

She still recalled how annoyed she’d been with her mother. “She was playing matchmaker. She never told me if she preferred me to be with Jasper or Chris, but it didn’t matter. I loved you. I’ve always loved you.” Her heart skipped a beat the second the words slipped out. She darted a glance at him.

Either he hadn’t heard her declaration, or he was ignoring it. An unbearable ache squeezed her heart. “I don’t know who raped me. But I know he came in through my window.”

Vic stared hard at her. “Wait. Earlier, you said ‘after I realized what had happened.’”

She could see a muscle work furiously in Vic’s jaw. His eyes were cold as ice, but he stayed silent as he watched her.

“I must have fallen asleep…or—I don’t know. I woke up in the middle of the rape.” She shuddered, and shook off the terror she still felt. “It was like…I was out of my body. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. My mind was fuzzy.”

“He drugged you somehow,” Vic gritted out between clenched teeth.

She nodded. “That’s what my first therapist said, too. I had no idea about…well, I guess I was pretty sheltered. It wasn’t until after he was gone that I really understood what had happened.”

Vic’s expression was carved in granite. “You didn’t see his face? Did he wear a mask?”

“I don’t know. It was dark. Everything’s a fog. I remember my eyelids feeling so heavy, like I couldn’t open them to see. It was…awful.”

Vic’s eyes closed, a swear word tore from his lips, and for a few moments he just sat and breathed. She could see him struggle to rein in whatever emotions he was feeling. It was impossible to tell what they were.

Strangely, she hadn’t started crying as she told him. She’d been able to hold the stinging tears back. This was the first time she’d ever been able to get through the story—even with her therapists—without bursting into torrents of tears. She felt good about that. Lighter. Less burdened. Maybe it really had helped.

She risked another glance at him. She wished he’d hold her.

She craved his touch. Wanted nothing more than to feel connected to him. She blinked as he gently slid his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. It was as if he’d heard her thoughts.

The contact between them sent a jolt through her, straight to her toes.

“I want to hold you tight,” he said hoarsely. “But I’m afraid I’ll hurt your ribs.”

“This is good. Really nice.” She reached up as far as she could and laid her hand on his chest. Tipped her head just a little, so her cheek rested against his neck as he breathed in and out into her hair. Relaxed into the strength of him.

He moved his head, tucking her under his chin, let his fingers caress her. “So you’ve seen therapists? Doctors?”

“Too many to count,” she admitted.

“And what do they say?”

“Nothing helpful.” Being with Vic—just talking to him—had helped her more than all of them put together.

His hand caressed her shoulder. The warmth of his broad chest against her side seeped into her skin, heating her from the core out. Slowly, as if he knew exactly what she wanted, he shifted until his arm was behind her back and his fingers were slipping under the hem of her shirt, the pads lightly touching her skin.

“Is it okay when I touch you?” he asked.

The low, sexy tenor of his voice heated her inside. “Mmm,” she whispered.

“You’re sure?”

In response, she pulled herself up and gingerly straddled him. He caressed her, his hands gliding from her hips to her back, moving to her sides. His thumbs brushed the swells of her breasts and without thinking, she pressed herself against him. Instantly, heat seeped through her, swelling between her legs. Damn her ribs.

“Positive.”

He gave her a half smile, the first genuine one of the night. “I don’t want to force you into anything. No more ropes. No more games.”

“Never?” She trailed a finger over his wrist. Slanted him a teasing look.

She felt his tight muscles relax as his body responded. His smile curved. “Well…maybe sometimes.”

She kissed him then, slow and tentative at first, then deeper. She was careful to move slowly. To protect her ribs. But the feeling of being so close to Vic overrode any pain she felt.

“Can we be done talking?” she breathed as she moved against him, still cradling his face. She let her tongue explore his mouth, then pulled back to nibble along his jaw. He tasted masculine, fresh, and she wanted nothing more than to devour him, right now. She could slip out of her sweat pants, free him from his jeans, and sink onto him. It would be so easy, so fulfilling, to give in to the overwhelming closeness she felt for him right now. The perfect ending to the wrenchingly emotional night.

She rubbed against him, her pulse escalating until she thought she’d burst. He’d given her orgasms like she’d never experienced. All she could think was that she wanted another, and she wanted to be able to give him the same unbelievable feeling.

He looked at her with hooded eyes, strained from self-control.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured as he tugged down one side of her shirt and latched onto her breast, sucking until she arched her back and shut out the pain in her ribs. She pressed her pelvis hard against him, squirming as he freed her other breast and moved his mouth to it.

She gasped as he nipped her with his teeth. He slipped his fingers between her legs, rubbing her with his thumb through her clothing until she was ready to burst right then and there.

She writhed against him, moaning softly.

“Are you close, Laney?” he asked, his voice low, seductive.

God, yes. “So close, Vic…” she managed, her eyes drifting closed.

He slipped his hand under her waistband, the backs of his fingers sliding through the curls until they hit her in just the right spot. His pressure was light. Rhythmic. Pure, undiluted blissful torture.

“Please…” She arched her back, increasing the pressure of his fingers against her.

“Tell me you love me.”

She managed to crack open her eyes in disbelief. Was he toying with her? His fingers moved and she squirmed in frustration. “Vic, what…”

“You said it before. I want to hear you say it again.”

She opened her eyes wider and saw the determined expression on his face. But the words snagged. “I’m so close, Vic. Please,” she begged.

His jaw tightened. “Say it, Laney,” he said, his voice sounding as close to the brink of ecstasy as she felt.

“I love you,” she breathed, the words slipping out of her mouth, no longer under her control.

“You won’t leave again?”