Sacrifice of Passion (Deadly Legends) (3 page)

Faced with Vic’s seething glare and Zach’s building confusion, she sucked in a deep breath. Time to get control over herself. No sense in bringing the kid into her painful past. Focus on the patient, she told herself. She flipped the topic back to the piglet. “Sheila looks like she’ll be well cared for. Will she sleep in your room?”

“No. Dad says she’ll have to sleep outside,” Zach said, shooting a quick glance at Vic.

Vic’s fist clenched, but his expression remained impassive. Cold as ice.

Delaney focused on settling her heartbeat. Whatever issues father and son had were none of her business. She picked up the file she’d dropped and opened it up. “What’s Sheila in for, Zach?”

“Zach got her this morning,” Vic said, his voice still gruff. “Doc Clinton said he’d squeeze in a quick exam before the kid goes to school—set the boy’s mind at ease.”

She looked him in the eyes again. He’d grown into a ruggedly handsome man, and despite her anger, her gut twisted as she batted down her physical response. She turned to Zach and smiled. The boy really was a little Vic. He’d grow up to be a lady-killer, just like his dad. But hopefully he wouldn’t betray the woman he supposedly loved.

Delaney took the chart and opened the door. “Doc Clinton will be right in.”

Zach cleared his throat. “Maybe you could come visit her—”

“Zach.” Vic’s voice was tight. “She works here. She doesn’t make house calls.”

“Oh.” The boy’s face fell. He sank onto one of the plastic chairs across from the stainless steel table and looked at his feet.

Her heart went out to him. He seemed like such a nice kid. “You can come back anytime,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll see you around, too. San Julio’s a small town.”

Zach brightened. “Great!”

She smiled at him, but the smile grew strained when she met Vic’s gaze again. His eyes seemed to smolder, but his jaw was still tight. “Yeah, great,” she said, and then slipped outside, closing the door firmly behind her.

She covered her eyes with a hand and tried to rationalize the sudden sting of tears behind them. She was just tired. It didn’t matter that Vic had a son. It didn’t even matter that hatred tinged his gaze as he’d looked at her. She’d gotten over him years ago.

She’d had to. The night he’d betrayed her and left her to the mercy of a monster had been the last time she’d allowed herself to get emotionally close to any man.

She’d never be hurt like that again.

Especially by Vic Vargas.

Chapter Three

So the old woman had been right.

Vic stared at the closed door of the exam room, the walls he’d put up twelve years ago crumbling around him. Seeing Delaney West again after so many years felt like old wounds being torn open, spilling his own blood out, leaving him nothing more than an empty shell, just like the bloodless goat they’d found yesterday.

His past had come back to haunt him.

Delaney looked as delectable as she had when she was eighteen. Her voice reverberated in his head, sending his thoughts spiraling back twelve years. She’d been irresistible to him then, and he’d had to use every ounce of strength he possessed to stop from taking her virginity before they got married, even when she’d offered that last evening they’d been together. He’d respected her. Loved her. Had wanted to make her happy—so much that he’d decided to ask her parents for her hand instead of running off with her in the middle of the night like a pair of criminals. He’d wanted to make love to her so badly he’d ached inside, but more than that was his desire to give her a wedding she’d remember. To give her a perfect memory.

And then she’d left town before he could explain why he hadn’t met her that night. She’d walked out on them all. Her parents. Her friends. Her pregnant mare. Him.

He’d been a raving lunatic for weeks. Had practically stalked her parents until they’d told him that she’d left San Julio because of him. Because Delaney had told them he’d been pressuring her to have sex.

“That’s a lie,” he’d ground out, but Louise West had slammed the door in his face. He’d been lucky Red hadn’t pulled out his shotgun.

He’d drunk himself into a stupor and then picked up the pieces of his betrayed heart and moved on. Screw Delaney West, he’d told himself.

And he had, ever since.

But God dammit, now Delaney was back. And just ten minutes with her had all but destroyed those walls that had kept her memory locked in the recesses of his mind for years. He knew he had to find a way to purge her from his system. Or he was afraid the walls in his mind wouldn’t be the only thing she’d destroy.

If he wasn’t careful, she might do the same to the walls around his heart.

…

Delaney stared at her supper, vaguely aware of her mother’s voice. She didn’t look up until a hand gently grasped her chin and turned her head.

“Bless my soul,” her mother said, a frown tugging at her lips. “What’s got you in such a trance?”

Before she could stop herself, Delaney hugged her close, startling a laugh from her. Her mother stroked her hair when Delaney still refused to let go. “What is it, Del?”

Delaney pulled back. So many times she’d wanted to tell her mother about that awful night twelve years ago, but fear held the secret inside of her. She’d never even told her best friend, Carmen. Only her shrinks had been privy to the horrible truth. “I ran into Vic today.”

Her mother frowned and she pulled away. “Oh?”

“And his
son
.”

“Ah…”

Delaney swallowed her emotions. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Why hadn’t Carmen, or her dad, or anyone for that matter? They’d all kept the vital piece of information from her. If she’d had all the information, she would have made a different decision. Wouldn’t have come back to San Julio, even now.

Her mother met her gaze evenly. “He didn’t do right by you.”

“But a son?”

“You left him, baby. Ran away to Austin. Said he was pressuring you to…to…” She flung her hands up. “Surely you haven’t forgotten that.”

No, Delaney hadn’t forgotten. The lie still weighed heavily on her soul. From the moment she’d stepped out of Vic’s truck the evening they were going to elope, blowing him a kiss, the dominos had fallen in ways she never could have imagined.

“You still should have told me. They came into the clinic! I didn’t…I couldn’t…” She stopped. Calmed down. “I wasn’t prepared.”

“There’s not much to tell. It’s Sheila Ramsey’s boy.” Her mother turned back to the pecan pie dough she was rolling out. “Or so I’ve heard. They never married.”

Delaney felt nauseated. “What, did the whole town keep it a secret from me?”

“It’s not like you’ve been around here much,” her mother snapped. “You came for one visit a year, if we were lucky.” She snatched up a kitchen towel and swiped her floury hands, then slung the cloth over her shoulder. “But the truth is, the boy just showed up here a couple of months ago. Right after Vic went from being the foreman of the old Dougal place to being the owner.”

Delaney started. “What?” She swung her gaze to the window. The old Dougal ranch was the neighboring property. Vic had a son he’d just taken in
and
he was living right next door? How was she ever going to avoid him?

“No one seems to know where the boy was before that, and Vic isn’t saying.” Her mother tsked. “From what I’ve heard, he hasn’t been much of a father to that child.”

Delaney’s head reeled. The Vic she’d known would never have chosen not to be a part of his son’s life. Then again, she clearly hadn’t known him as well as she thought she had. The fact that he even had a son was proof enough of that. “Why does he have the boy now?”

“No idea.” Louise pulled the dishtowel from over her shoulder and snapped it in the air. “All I know is that Vic Vargas is an unmarried father. Good thing you left. It might have been you with a child born out of wedlock if he’d had his way.”

“Yeah,” Delaney said softly. “Good thing.”

Her mother’s jaw tightened. “He doesn’t go to church. He and his brother Ray own a bar, for goodness sake. And…he’s developed quite the reputation around town for…for…” She hesitated. “He’s a lady’s man, let’s leave it at that. We’re all accountable for our actions,” her mother went on. “That’s the bottom line.”

Delaney didn’t agree with the notion that just because a person didn’t go to church or had sex out of wedlock they were a sinner. But she held her tongue. She’d learned long ago that although her mother was a loving, compassionate woman, her religious beliefs were extreme. And narrow-minded. And always unwavering.

She thought of her own sins. Of that horrible night. Had that been some kind of punishment? Had she deserved what had happened to her? What continued to happen? “What about my nightmares?” she asked. “And my sleepwalking? I don’t even know what I do most of the time. Am I going to hell if I do something bad and I don’t even know it? Am I responsible for those actions?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“You’re accountable for things you make a conscious decision to do. Whatever you do when you sleepwalk, baby, it’s not a choice.”

Usually, Delaney agreed with that philosophy. But maybe she did make choices when she sleepwalked. There had been a few occasions when she’d woken up in a situation that she’d longed for. Once she’d found herself outside the vet clinic in Austin where she’d desperately wanted a job. Another time, she’d been dialing Vic’s old phone number on her cell, over and over and over again. Thank God his mother hadn’t answered. Nieves Vargas would have chewed her out.

She took a deep breath. “The nightmare. I sleepwalked again last night.”

“Oh, Del…” Her mother looked at her with worried eyes. “I thought that coming home would cure you.”

So had the shrinks. Facing her past, being back in the environment where it had all started, was supposed to stop her sleepwalking. But that wasn’t happening. What more could she do?

Delaney sighed. Best laid plans. “I thought so, too, but I guess it hasn’t.”

…

Morning had long broken and Delaney had showered, last night blessedly free of nightmares. Instead, she’d been inundated with dreams of a hard, lean cowboy with the smokiest blue eyes she’d ever seen.

But she wasn’t going to think about that.

She was in her parents’ kitchen, inhaling the scent of freshly brewed coffee, when a barrage of male voices filtered in from outside. A second later, the door to the kitchen opened and Delaney’s father, Pastor Locke, and Alan Maldano, her parents’ ranch hand and surrogate son, trailed in.

“That woman is insane,” Pastor Locke said.

“What woman?” Delaney asked. The trio stopped and stared at her.

“Delaney,” Pastor Locke said, nodding his head at her in greeting. “Good to see you.”

Her father came over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Alan gazed at her with needy puppy-dog eyes. She turned away. She couldn’t stomach Alan right now. The man sent chills up her spine and she wanted nothing more than to steer clear of him. She hated that he was in the same house, so near her all the time. If he hadn’t been there for her parents when she’d left town, hadn’t helped with the ranch, she’d beg her parents to fire him.

“Esperanza,” Pastor Locke said, answering her question, his voice dripping with disdain. “She’s been talking nonsense again.”

Delaney hadn’t heard of or seen the old medicine woman since she’d been back in town. “I was afraid maybe she’d passed away.”

“No such luck,” Alan muttered.

Delaney stared at him, shocked. “That’s harsh.”

“She’s a witch,” he continued. “All those carcasses and potions and that skeleton of a cat—”

“I agree,” Pastor Locke said, his hands on the hips of his Levis. He never wore special attire outside of service. No special collar. He might be a minister but looked like any other man in the room. He was a town fixture, a good ol’ boy from a long line of locals, and another person who’d helped her parents after she’d run away from San Julio. Delaney’s mother had constantly urged her to seek his guidance, but she had never turned to him for support, and she wasn’t going to start now. His upbringing had given him harsh views that didn’t have room for gray. And in her world, nothing was black and white.

“It’s bordering on sacrilege, I tell you,” he added.

Her father shrugged, his lips pulling down on either end. “Don’t know about that, but I don’t like what she’s saying.” He shot Delaney a spooked look, like the old healer had been saying something about her. But why?

Silence fell on the room, and Delaney’s heartbeat thudded in her ears. Half the people in San Julio believed Esperanza’s ability to heal and see visions were a gift from God himself. The other half, including most of the people in her mother’s kitchen, believed the exact opposite. From the way her father looked at her, she knew there was more. “What did she say, Dad?”

He shook his head. “It don’t mean nothing.”

“Daddy,” she said. “I can see it does. Tell me.”

Her father opened his mouth, but stopped when her mother slammed her hands over her ears. “No! That woman is a heathen!” she exclaimed. “If it’s sacrilege, I don’t want to know any more.”

“Daddy?” Delaney pressed.

Her father looked at her mother, then the others. Suddenly he looked so drawn and old.

Alan stepped forward. “You want me to tell them?”

Delaney pursed her lips and tried to bury the old resentment that rose in her at Alan’s words. Of course he already knew. Alan had come on board at the ranch when he’d been twenty and she’d been sixteen. He’d become like a son to her parents—the son they’d always wanted. Dutiful, her father had said. Obsequious, she’d thought.

Her father shook his head at Alan, then leaned against the table and looked at Delaney. “She showed up the other morning, spouting nonsense. I didn’t hear it myself, but Pastor Locke here, he says she talked about you.”

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and her spine stiffened. “Me?” She turned to the pastor.

Pastor Locke nodded. “She was talking to Vargas, but I overheard. She told him you were here, in San Julio, and mentioned you by name. Then she said she was sorry.”

The air in the room grew heavy. Stifling. “Sorry about what?” Delaney asked in a harsh whisper. And why was the curandera talking to Vic about her?

Her father squirmed in his chair. “The woman barely speaks English. Who knows what the devil she was talking about.”

“She’s a witch, I tell you.” Her mother wrung the dishtowel between her hands. “She’s crazy. You stay away from her, Del.”

Four pairs of eyes watched her closely, drilling into her, throwing her off-balance. The chill that had swept up her spine deepened. How had Esperanza known she was back home?

And why in the world had the curandera said she was sorry?