Читать книгу Wild Revenge: The Dangerous Jacob Wilde / The Ruthless Caleb Wilde / The Merciless Travis Wilde - Сандра Мартон, Sandra Marton - Страница 10

CLOUDS HAD swallowed the moon and stars, turning the road into an inky ribbon that stretched toward infinity.

Addison had a head start but Jake drove fast, all but flooring the gas pedal. Every now and then, her taillights glowed crimson-bright ahead of him, but whenever the road curved, those lights disappeared.

She was driving fast, too. Dangerously so. Was she accustomed to dirt roads? Her world was surely one of limousines and taxis.

It surprised him that she could handle a car with such authority but then, everything about her surprised him.

He’d never seen such anger in a woman. Such fire.

And his stupidity had fueled it.

Jake frowned.

Talk about a man making fool of himself …

“Hell,” he muttered.

Apologizing wasn’t going to be easy. How did a man look a woman in the eye and say, “Okay, I’m an ass.” Or, better still, exactly what she’d called him, an arrogant jerk.

What kind of justification could he come up with to explain his behavior?

Not the truth.

Not that that second he’d seen her, he’d wanted her, that he’d reacted to her in a way he’d all but given up thinking he’d ever react to a woman again—

That believing she’d put on an act had all but destroyed him.

There wasn’t a way in the world he could admit any of that to her.

Nothing showed ahead of him but the bright tunnel created by the Tundra’s headlights. He goosed the gas, the truck shot forward and his reward was another quick wink of red taillights.

“Wilde,” he said through his teeth, “she’s right. You’re an idiot.”

Maybe he’d be lucky.

Maybe a simple “I’m sorry, I was wrong,” would be enough.

Right.

And she’d tell him, in explicit terms, precisely what he could do with those words.

Jake flexed his hands on the steering wheel.

This was not going to be fun.

He could imagine how she’d look while he stumbled through an apology.

Her cheeks would be pink with anger, her eyes as bright as molten silver. That I-can-take-on-the-world chin would be lifted to an angle that spelled defiance.

She’d be a veritable portrait of rage.

And sexy as hell.

Just thinking about it made his temperature rise and, hell, that was not what he wanted right now.

He had to concentrate on how to approach her. What to say. He worked on that while the truck ate up the miles, but nothing logical came to him.

He’d have to play it by ear.

And she’d make him jump through hoops.

That was the one certainty.

A muscle knotted in his jaw.

There was a time he’d have looked forward to the challenge. A woman, standing up to him? Except for a couple of tough-as-nails nurses who’d taken him on when he’d tried to refuse meds or therapy, women had always tended to say yes to whatever he wanted.

No surprise there.

If a guy had money, some kind of status, if he had the kind of looks women liked, that was the way things went.

He—for that matter, he and his brothers—had all those things.

For starters, they’d been born to money. Their father’s, sure, but beyond that, their mother had left each of them a hefty trust fund.

Jake had let his sit in the bank. Then he’d wised up and invested it with Travis.

Even now, driving through the night in pursuit of a woman who’d probably love nothing more than to kick him where he lived, remembering how he’d done it made him smile.

He’d cornered his brother the night before he shipped out the first time and handed him a check.

Travis, who’d been just starting up his own financial firm, had looked at the sum, then at Jake. He gave a soft whistle.

“You want me to handle it all?”

“Every dollar.”

“Risk … or no risk?”

Jake’s reply had been a grin. Travis had grinned, too, and the deal was made.

Jake had pretty much forgotten about it after that. When you were busy keeping your ass from getting shot off, money wasn’t much on your mind.

He came home on leave, Travis handed him a statement. That time, Jake was the one who’d whistled.

His seven figures had tripled. God only knew what it had grown to by now, despite the tough economic times.

As for status …

He was the son of a general. That was big, but in Texas, being the son of the man who owned El Sueño was even bigger.

Still, Jake had acquired his own kind of status early on.

At sixteen, he’d been a star high school quarterback. At eighteen, half a dozen top schools had offered him scholarships. At nineteen, pro scouts were already looking at him.

And at twenty, he’d walked away from college and football to enlist in the army, where he’d flown into the heart of battle.

As for his looks …

It was that DNA thing again.

He was tall. Lean. Muscular. His nose had a bump in it, courtesy of a burly defensive lineman, but that didn’t work against him at all.

Women went for the entire package.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

He still had the money. The status. The looks …?

He didn’t much care.

He knew his wounds made people uncomfortable. Like tonight. People looked at him, they flinched, they averted their eyes, they showed pity.

Pity was the worst of all.

As for seeing his own face in the mirror every morning—it was still a shock, but not because of vanity. It was a shock because it was a constant reminder of his failure.

“You need to give that up, Captain,” one of the shrinks had told him. “Get a prosthetic eye. Let people—let yourself-—see the real you.”

What reality had to do with popping an artificial eyeball into what was, basically, a hole in his head didn’t make sense even if the shrinks thought it did.

“Have you ever considered that it counteracts the medal you were awarded?” one had said, and Jake had ignored that for the stupid comment it was.

And all of this was pointless to think about, especially—

“Holy hell,” Jake said, and stood on the brakes.

A deer and her yearling stood twenty feet ahead of him, big eyes filled with innocence as they stared at his truck.

He dragged in a breath.

“Go on,” he said. “Get out of the way.”

The animals remained motionless. Then mama flicked her tail and she and the baby ran into the scrub.

Jake started the truck again.

He’d been lucky not to have hit the deer. His fault, entirely. Antelope, deer, coyotes all used the road, especially at night.

His head had been everywhere except where it should have been….

And the glow of Addison McDowell’s taillights was history.

No problem.

She was heading for the Chambers ranch and so was he.

A few minutes later, he bounced over the familiar pothole that signaled the start of Chambers land.

He slowed, took a good look at the gate and saw what he hadn’t seen the first time. It wasn’t locked. Truth was, the thing was barely a gate. Crossbars, posts, a couple of broken hinges. The gate hung open, swaying drunkenly in the breeze, looking more like kindling than anything else.

Jake eased the truck forward, nosed it through the opening, then started up the long gravel drive to the house.

Still no taillights.

If the McDowell woman had already reached the house, what did he do?

Park? Go to the door and knock? Or did he sit in the truck and tap on his horn? He had the feeling turning up, unannounced on her doorstep, might not be the best—

Light blazed through the windshield, blinding him. Jake cursed, flung his arm in front of his face, and for the second time in minutes, stood on the brakes.

The truck came to a hard stop.

What was he looking at? Headlights? The light from a big flashlight? No way could he see past it.

Cautiously, he opened his door.

“Ms. McDowell?”

Nothing. Just the darkness, the silence and the light.

“Addison? Are those your headlights? Turn them off.”

Still nothing. Jake squinted hard. He took a step to the left. The brightest light remained focused on the Tundra but another light followed him.

Headlights and a flashlight. Addison—it had to be her—was using both.

He couldn’t see a thing.

“Hey,” he shouted. “Didn’t you hear me? Turn off those lights.”

Still no response. Jake grunted, moved another few steps from the truck….

The flashlight beam settled on him and held.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He’d had enough of being a living target to last him a lifetime.

“Turn that thing away from me,” he said coldly. “Do it now.”

Survival instinct, honed in a place thousands of miles and many centuries away, kicked in.

This wasn’t Texas anymore.

Jake dropped to the ground and rolled, not toward the truck as the enemy might predict, but away from it, into scrub and darkness.

Everything in him focused on that beam of light.

His heart rate slowed. The sounds of the night faded; he could hear his opponent’s breaths.

The beam of light moved. Swept over the truck. Over the ground. It was searching for him.

Jake rolled again. Pressed himself to the earth ten or twelve feet from the road.

Wait, he told himself. Wait for the right instant, for the opportunity that always presented itself if you were ready….

“Show yourself,” a voice called.

Addison McDowell’s voice.

It shot him back to reality. This wasn’t some hell-begotten dirt track in Afghanistan, it was Texas. And the person with the flashlight wasn’t the enemy, it was simply a woman who’d been frightened by the headlights following her home.

He let out a long breath.

“Addison. Hey. It’s Jake Wilde. You don’t have to—”

The beam of light swept over the road, the truck, the scrub. It would find him soon. Jake started to rise.

“Addison? Listen, I understand why you’re upset—”

“All you need to understand is that I have a gun. And I damn well know how to use it.”

Jake dropped to his belly, fast. A gun? Impossible. Where would she get a …

From the Chambers house, of course. The old man had kept a dozen guns, rifles, shotguns, automatics. He’d been the worst kind of hunter, shooting anything that moved.

Hell.

This wasn’t good.

Jake cleared his throat.

“Addison. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I’m going to start counting, Captain. By the time I get to five, you’d better be on your feet with your hands in the air.”

“Did you hear me? You don’t want to have an accident with that thing—”

“Shooting you won’t be an accident.”

“Goddammit, woman—”

The light swept past him.

“One,” she said. “Two.”

It came to a stop, inches from his head.

“Wait. Listen to me. All I want is—”

“I know exactly what you want.”

He blinked.

There was no mistaking what she meant. The only response he could think of was “uh-oh,” but he had the feeling that wasn’t going to do it.

“You’re wrong,” he said quickly. “I don’t—”

“Three,” she said, no hesitancy in her voice at all.

Jake took a breath, shot to his feet, focused his sight to the left of the light in hopes it wouldn’t blind him and ran to where he figured she was standing.

He hit her, hard, just as he’d planned, his shoulder driving into her with enough force to take them both to the ground.

The flashlight flew from her hand.

Then she was under him, legs spread, arms raised, fingers clawing for his face. He grunted, grabbed for her wrists and struggled to immobilize her.

Her knee came up. She didn’t have a lot of leverage but she jammed it into his groin anyway, hard enough to make him gasp.

He flung himself against her, pinned her with his body, his hands clasping hers, holding them out to the sides.

“Listen to me,” he said roughly. “I’m not here to hurt—”

She struck like a snake, head coming up, teeth sharp as tiny knives sinking into his throat.

He jerked back.

“For God’s sake, woman, will you listen?”

“I’ll kill you,” she gasped. “So help me, I’ll—”

“I came to apologize.”

“You do this to me, I swear—”

“I came here to apologize, dammit!”

She grunted. Wriggled. It was like wrestling with a wildcat….

Except, this was a woman.

Warm.

Lithe.

Silken.

They were two people in deadly combat—and yet, despite that, despite everything, Jake felt his duplicitous body coming alive.

Her hair smelled of flowers. Lily of the valley. Lilacs. He didn’t know enough about flowers to be able to identify the scent, he only knew that its fragrance was delicate and surprisingly old-fashioned.

Her breath was warm. Wine-scented. Her mouth would taste rich and sweet.

Her breasts were soft. God, she was soft. Sweet and soft. He thought what it would be like to sink into her, sink deep, have her wrap her legs around him.

In a heartbeat, he was aroused and erect and hard as a rock against her.

“Crap,” he growled, and he rolled away, shot to his feet, turned his back, stood with his head bent, his hands on his hips, his breathing rough and rapid.

The names she’d called him didn’t half cover the territory.

If Addison McDowell really did have a gun, she might as well shoot him because he was worthless. A man who’d get turned while a woman fought him in terror…

He took a long breath, expelled it and swung toward her.

She’d risen to her feet. She was holding the flashlight, the beam wavering unsteadily over him, over the ground, over everything. There was no gun.

He wanted to say something, but what? Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Are you—are you okay?”

She didn’t answer.

“Addison. Please. Are you—”

“Are you done?”

He winced. “I swear, I didn’t come here to hurt you.”

She made a little sound. He hoped it was a snort of disbelief but it might have been the sound of her swallowing her tears.

“Addison …”

“Go away,” she said wearily. “Just—just climb into your truck and—”

“I came to apologize. To tell you all the stuff I said back at El Sueño was—was just—”

“I don’t want your apology. I don’t want anything but the sight of you and that truck going away from here.”

Okay. She was pushing? Only a saint wouldn’t push back.

“Pretending you had a gun was pretty stupid.”

“Under the circumstances,” she said, “I think it was pretty smart.”

She was standing straighter. Her voice had taken on strength.

The lady had balls.

“Only if you don’t assume I might have had one, too.”

“Why would I think such a thing?”

Jake shrugged. “Hey, this is Texas.”

And, by God, she laughed. He breathed a little easier.

“You sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Only my pride. I took a course in tae kwon do years ago, when I first moved to New York. The instructor said I’d be able to fight off a mugger. Now it turns out I can’t fight off a cowboy.”

She was back. He had to admire her. She was one tough, resilient female.

“Nobody’s called me a cowboy in years.”

“Maybe that’s why I couldn’t fight you off.”

He laughed. And he paused, struggling to find the words that had to be said next. No way could she have missed what had happened when he was on top of her.

“Ah, about what happened. When I, ah, when I had you down …”

He paused again. She didn’t say anything. Heat flooded his face.

“I just want you to know that—that what happened wasn’t, uh, it wasn’t deliberate …”

“Did something happen?” she said coldly. “I’m afraid I didn’t notice.”

Wow. He hadn’t expected that. Okay. She figured it was payback time. He could deal with that.

“Well,” he said briskly, “if you’re sure you’re all right—”

“I’m fine.”

“Would you like me to stay with you until you get to the house?”

She gave a snort of laughter.

He felt his face heat again, but not with embarrassment.

“You know,” he said carefully, “I don’t know what it’s like back East but around here, people accept apologies.”

“They accept them back East, too, but not from jerks.”

The muscle in his jaw fluttered. Enough, he thought grimly, and he turned away from her and strode to the truck.

“Captain?”

Jake looked around.

“Next time you decide to pay me a visit, just remember there are half a dozen real guns inside that house.”

“A little advice,” Jake said coldly. “Don’t threaten a man with a gun, real or otherwise, unless you’re prepared to face the consequences.”

“Advice is the last thing I need from the likes of you, Captain Wilde. You’ve got a nasty disposition, a hair-trigger temper and you’re so full of yourself that—”

Jake marched toward her.

“You want to talk about being full of yourself, lady, try explaining that outfit you wore tonight.”

Addison blinked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Black silk, cut low. Ice-pick heels.” Was he actually saying these things? He sounded like a fool but the words just kept coming. “You might as well have pinned on a sign that said, ‘Hello, Wilde’s Crossing. Ever seen the likes of me before?’“

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you finished?”

Finished? Finished? No. He was not finished, nowhere near finished.

“You know,” he said, “I behaved like a damned fool back at El Sueño.”

“If you’re waiting for me to disagree—”

“But what you did here was worse.”

“Worse? Defending myself against you was worse?”

“I could have killed you.”

His words were flat and cold. Addison felt the chill of them straight into the marrow of her bones.

“Don’t get me wrong. You were scared. A truck, following you on these dark, deserted roads … I understand that. But once you pulled that trick with your car, put your headlights on me, that flashlight, saw who I was—”

“I saw who you were, all right.” For the first time since he’d taken her down, her voice quavered. “A man who wanted to—to—”

Addison shuddered. The wind was chilly; in her rush to leave El Sueño, she’d left her jacket behind.

“I’m not that kind of man,” Jake said flatly. “Despite this face.”

“Goddammit,” she said with hot fury, “do you think that’s what this is about? You and your face? You, feeling sorry for yourself?

Jake took a quick step forward, muscles taut with anger. “Who in hell do you think you are?”

“I’m a woman who’s not afraid to tell you the truth, unlike that—that bunch of sympathy sisters at your ranch.” Her chin rose; she tossed her hair back from her face. “Grow up, Captain. You were wounded. You have scars. People react to seeing them. So what?”

“You’re out of line,” he said coldly.

“I am very much in line. You have a chip on your shoulder the size of a house.”

“You don’t know a damned thing about me.”

“And you don’t know a damned thing about me, but that didn’t stop you from making a snap judgment. And I am sick and tired of snap judgments. You got that?”

Jake hesitated. Then he nodded.

“You’re right,” he said in a low voice. “You want to know the truth of what happened tonight? I saw you. And I wanted you. I haven’t wanted a woman in what seems like forever but one look at you and all that changed. And then—then, my brothers told me you weren’t looking at me, Jacob Wilde, you were looking at me, the guy they’d recommended to check out your ranch and I, hell, and I—”

“I saw you watching me. And I told myself I was just trying to get your attention so we could talk business but—but—”

“Dammit,” he said, and either she moved or he did.

It didn’t matter.

What counted was that an instant later, she was in his arms.