Читать книгу Cowboy to the Max - Rita Herron - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Carter wrapped one hand around Sadie’s neck, trapping her in a chokehold as he pushed the gun to her head.

“Scream and I’ll shoot.”

Her body trembled against his, but he forced himself to ignore the guilt that niggled at him. He’d had plenty of fights with men, but he’d never hurt a woman before.

“Please, don’t kill me,” she whispered.

He shoved her inside the dark apartment, then slammed the door, needing cover in case someone was watching and called the cops.

A faint glow from a streetlight outside bled through the worn curtains across the room, and he pushed her toward it. “I’m going to release you, but if you scream or try to escape, I will hurt you.” He spoke low into her ear. “Do you understand?”

She nodded against him, her fear palpable in the way she dug her fingers into his arm where he gripped her neck.

Carter swung her around and pushed her down onto the threadbare sofa, then aimed the gun at her. The shallow light bathed her face, accentuating the terror in her big, dark eyes. Eyes that had once made him melt.

Eyes that had haunted him since with her cunning lies.

She slid a hand in her purse, and he realized she might be reaching for a weapon. Furious, he straddled her, pinning her down on the sofa as he jerked her purse open. She grunted in pain as his weight bore down on her.

He tried to ignore the feel of her soft, feminine curves beneath his. He hadn’t had sex in five years, and her sultry body had been the last one he’d pounded himself into.

Dammit, he wanted her again.

“Get off me,” Sadie said tightly.

His fingers connected with cold metal, and he removed a derringer from her purse then dangled it in front of her. “You going to shoot me, Sadie? Framing me for murder wasn’t bad enough?”

Emotions flickered across her heart-shaped face, those chocolate eyes brimming with sudden tears. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

What the hell? Were those real tears? Or was she a consummate actress?

For a moment, he studied her, searching for the cold-hearted vixen who had seduced him with her lies, then drugged him and hung him out to dry.

But the woman in front of him looked small, vulnerable, even innocent, as if she wouldn’t hurt a fly. And she was still so damn beautiful that he felt as if he’d been punched in the chest just like he had the first time he’d seen her in that seedy bar fending off the hands of the jerks who thought her waitress services included servicing them.

She also looked terrified.

She should be, dammit.

Sure, she’s terrified. She’s finally been caught at her own game.

Hardening himself, he moved off of her, careful to keep his gun trained on her as he stowed hers in his jacket pocket.

“You know I’ve spent five years in a maximum security prison for a murder I didn’t commit, all because of you,” Carter said in an icy voice. “You drugged me that night, didn’t you?”

She clutched her small-boned hands in her lap, twisting them in the knots of her Navajo print skirt, her face pale and pinched.

“Didn’t you?” Carter growled.

Her labored breath rattled out, then she looked up at him and gave a small nod.

Her confirmation made his chest seize with much-needed relief that he wasn’t crazy, that he hadn’t gone on some drunken rage, killed that man and blacked out and forgotten it.

On the heels of that relief, fury flooded him.

So he had been right. She’d used him.

His hand tightened around the handle of the gun as the memory of waking with all that blood on his hands suffused him. The dingy hotel room, the furniture ripped apart, the tattered clothes strewn about as if an animal had ripped at them.

The jagged hole in the man’s chest, the knife in his hand… “Why?”

Another deep breath, and she averted her eyes. “I’m sorry, Carter. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want an apology,” he bellowed. “I want the damn truth. Why did you do it? Did someone pay you?” He paced in front of her, waving the weapon, his boots hammering the cheap linoleum. “Did you and the killer plan this, then you picked me out of the bar?” He whirled back around to face her, jabbing his chest with his thumb. “Why, Sadie? Why me? Was I just the biggest fool in the room, or was it because I was falling all over you?”

SADIE WILLED HERSELF to be strong.

Carter had every reason to hate her. But she was terrified he’d unleash five years of rage and kill her.

And as much as she despised herself for what she’d done, she didn’t want to die. “You don’t understand,” she whispered.

He glared at her with condemning eyes, eyes so cold that he could practically kill with them. His face was rugged, jaw unshaven, the scars he’d gained in jail deeper and puckered.

But beneath the rage, she sensed a wealth of pain, pain she had helped cause by her betrayal.

Where had he been the last few days? Hiding out in ditches? Barns?

All because of her.

The memory of the night they’d made love flashed back. He’d been a bad-boy hellion back then, full of anger, the strong-and-silent type; maybe that was what had attracted her. In bed, he’d been physically demanding, too, had made her body ache with want and desire and need. Yet he’d also been gentle and loving, determined to please her as much as he’d wanted pleasure for himself. And his sexual prowess had been overwhelming.

The gentleness was gone now, though, replaced by a steely intent to exact revenge.

“I asked you—why me?” Carter demanded.

She startled at the sound of his booming voice, then forced herself to look up at him. She owed him an explanation.

If it endangered her, then so be it. She was tired of being on the run and smothered by guilt.

“I don’t know,” Sadie said, clenching her skirt in her hands. “Maybe because you and Dyer had a run-in two nights before.”

Carter narrowed his eyes. “We did?”

“You don’t remember?” She sighed. “You and he were both drinking, playing pool. It was nothing, just a bar brawl, but I guess the incident made you a patsy.”

Carter scrubbed his hand over his beard stubble. “Who were you working with?” Carter asked gruffly.

Sadie’s heart thumped with shock. “You have it all wrong,” she said, suddenly realizing that Carter thought she had conspired in the murder he’d been arrested for. “I didn’t kill that man or have anything to do with it.”

Disbelief slashed fierce lines around his chiseled mouth. “You expect me to buy that story? You seduced me, drugged me, then set me up.”

“No,” Sadie protested, although her protests sounded weak, even to her own ears. The truth was, she had helped set him up, even though she hadn’t realized it at the time.

He stalked toward her, then jammed the gun in her face again. He was so close she smelled his anger, felt his breath brush her cheek. “Don’t lie to me. You owe me the truth, so spill it or you’re dead.”

Sadie shook her head, her stomach churning. “You’re not a killer, Carter. You won’t—”

He cocked the trigger. “If you don’t think I’m a killer, why the hell didn’t you stand up for me in court and say that? Why did you let them lock me up?”

“Because I was scared.” Sadie’s hand rose to her neck, then unconsciously to the scar on her chest. It ached, the burning sensation triggered by the memory of the man digging a knife in her chest.

Carter’s look flattened. “Scared? Scared of what?”

Sadie closed her eyes, willing the memories away, but they consumed her anyway. The big man’s beefy hands around her neck, choking her. His rancid breath on her face. His gruff, steely voice rasping threats in her ear.

Suddenly Carter jerked her head back, and her eyes flew open. “Tell me what happened,” he growled. “Who set me up?”

Sadie wheezed a breath. “I don’t know his name,” she whispered. “Just that he broke into my house after you left me in bed that first night we made love.”

“The night before the murder?”

She nodded. “He had a knife, he…”

Carter’s eyes flickered over her, cold, icy pits of hell. “He what?”

“He put it to my throat. He almost strangled me, then he threatened to kill my mother and me if I didn’t do what he said.” Her breathing grew ragged. “He knew where I lived, that my mother was sick, and he was going to make her suffer....”

Carter’s eyes narrowed to slits as her voice broke, then he swallowed hard, making the vein in his neck bulge. “What exactly did he tell you to do?”

Sadie’s heart wrenched. “To slip you a roofie when you came in again.” Her voice cracked, tears clogging her throat. “I didn’t want to do it, Carter, but I was terrified.”

A heartbeat of silence stretched between them, the tension palpable. “Did he tell you why he wanted me drugged?”

“No.” Sadie shook her head in denial. “I swear, I had no idea what he was up to. I…thought he planned to rob you or something. It never occurred to me that he was planning a murder.”

Carter made a guttural sound in his throat, then stood, moving away as if he could no longer stand the sight of her. Although his gaze remained pinned on her, his look teeming with disbelief, hate and bitterness. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you come forward once I was arrested?”

The scalding sensation intensified in Sadie’s chest, and she rubbed it again. “I told you…I was afraid.”

“The police could have protected you,” Carter bit out. “And you could have saved me.”

The memories flooded her again, trapping her, choking her. “I did try to go to the police,” Sadie said, gasping for a breath. “But…but he found me.”

Carter gripped her by the arms. “I don’t believe you.”

Sadie shivered. “It’s true.”

For a long, silent moment, his eyes bore into hers, then his fingers loosened slightly. “What happened?”

Fury and fear and her own sense of injustice bubbled over, and she unleashed on him. “Because he cornered me in the alley when I was walking to my car. Then he did this.”

Her hands shook as she ripped open the top two buttons of her shirt, revealing the hideous scar the man had left between her breasts.

“He held me down…then he carved me up so I wouldn’t forget.” Tears flowed freely down her face. The cloying smell of her attacker’s cheap cologne and sweat haunted her. The sound of his low, wheezy voice echoed in her ears. “He told me the next time he’d kill my mother and make me watch, then he’d finish me off.”

CARTER SANK DOWN onto the club chair, his mind struggling to register Sadie’s story.

Part of him wanted to deny her claims. Accuse her of lying. Demand she go to the cops, tell the truth and exonerate him.

But her story…her tone sounded so sincere. Riddled with pain and guilt.

And that scar…on her chest. It hadn’t been there when he’d slept with her the first time. And he barely remembered crawling in bed with her the second. It was deep and puckered and was only inches from her heart. He’d been in enough knife fights himself to know it had been a serious injury.

All because of him.

His hands shook in front of him as he stared at the gun he’d held on her, and shame filled him. Of all the explanations he’d expected to hear, the excuses, the lies, the cunning act he’d thought she’d put on to save her own life, nothing had prepared him for this.

On the heels of shock, rage choked him. Who in the hell had framed him and terrorized Sadie?

He slowly lifted his head and looked up at her. The anguish in her expression robbed his breath. The instinct to go to her and hold her, to protect her, surged through him. But he needed answers, so he remained rooted to the spot. Still, he couldn’t drag his eyes off that X carved on her chest between her breasts.

An X to remind her that the sick bastard was watching and could easily kill her.

Sadie averted her eyes as if she was ashamed, her fingers fumbling clumsily to rebutton her blouse.

Fury that some man had assaulted her and scarred her like that ate at him. The man had obviously wanted to destroy her beauty as well as terrorize her with his threats.

The SOB would not get away with it. If—no, when Carter found him, he’d carve him up just as he had done Sadie.

“Who was he?” Carter asked in a thick voice.

Sadie wiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks. “I told you, I don’t know.”

His gaze shot to hers. “What do you mean, you don’t know? You saw his face, didn’t you?”

Sadie made a pained sound in her throat. “I…yes, but it was dark. So dark, I’m not sure I would recognize him.”

Or maybe she’d blocked it out because of the trauma. “Had you ever seen him before? Maybe in the bar?”

Her small shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I…don’t know. Maybe. But there were men like him in the bar every night. Men pawing at me and watching me. I…tried to ignore them.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “What do you remember?”

She sighed, another sound of pain rumbling from her. Then her eyes glazed over, taking on a distant look, as if she was reliving the nightmare. “He was big, almost as tall as you but heavier. And his head was shaved.” She bunched her skirt in between her fingers. “He smelled like cheap cologne and sweat and beer.”

She was right. That description could fit half the men in Texas, especially at that low-rent bar where she’d been working.

He cleared his throat. “Go on.”

She scrubbed at her cheeks as if annoyed with herself for crying. “At first, I was in shock. I…didn’t know where to go.”

“If you’d called the police, they could have protected you and your mother.” And he would never have gone to jail. “And they might have been able to use DNA to track down the bastard who attacked you.”

Her eyes flared with derision. “I worked in a bar, Carter. I’m Native American, too. I know how the police work. They would have made me out to be some kind of tramp.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “Besides, my mother was dying of cancer. I was all she had. I could barely afford to care for her, much less drag her through a scandal.”

“So you just let him get away?” Carter asked, incredulous.

Sadie folded her hands into fists by her sides. “I wanted to come forward, Carter. Believe me, I did. But I told you I was in shock. In fact, the first few weeks after the attack, I was so weak and disoriented I couldn’t even get out of bed, much less remember the details of what happened.”

A seed of hope burst through the darkness eating Carter’s soul. “But you went to the hospital, right? So they have records—”

“I didn’t go to the hospital,” Sadie said in a low voice.

Disappointment shot through Carter. “No hospital. Why?”

“Because I thought he’d find me there. That he’d kill my mother and then finish me off.” She paced to the adjoining kitchen and glanced out the window, her body shuddering as she wrapped her arms around herself. “I didn’t know where to turn, so I called a friend from the reservation. He came and took me there to recover, and so the shaman could treat my wound.”

Carter cursed, strode to her and swung her around to face him. All this time he’d banked on Sadie having the answers he needed to clear himself. He couldn’t accept the fact that she didn’t. “So you’re telling me we have nothing. No evidence. That you can’t identify this man—”

Her face crumpled. “I’m sorry, Carter. I—”

Something rattled outside, jerking his attention, and he threw up a finger to shush her. She tensed, her eyes widening, as he peered through the window at the alley.

A shadow moved across the glass pane then suddenly something crashed through the window where they were standing.

Sadie screamed. Carter jerked her down to the floor as glass sprayed the counter and carpet.

Suddenly smoke began to billow through the room, stinging his eyes and throat.

Dammit. It was a pipe bomb.

Whoever had set it off wanted to kill them.