Shameless (The Contemporary Collection) (30 page)

She lifted her head. He took her parted lips, tasting them with laps of his tongue, thrusting between them with tender friction that made them tingle with sensitivity. He pressed deeper, invading, retreating in a firm, sure double rhythm that stimulated and promised.

A soft moan sounded in her throat as heated wetness seeped from her, and she lifted her hips, fitting herself more firmly into his hand. He made a rumbling sound of rich satisfaction in his throat. Leaving her mouth, he bent his head to take the nipple of her breast between his teeth, searing it with his hot breath through layers of cotton and silk.

Suddenly, it was too much and not enough. They stripped impeding clothing away, leaving what did not matter. Hot and hard, heated and giving, they came together in fluid, interlocking connection. He twisted his hips, reaching deeper, driving into the beating core of her. She opened to her greatest depth, taking him to the exquisitely tender center of her innermost self.

It was a passionate trial by combat, a fury of competitive ecstasy, of supplicating lust, an anguished craving to make right by might. Flesh against flesh, they drove each other in an unrelenting quest for answers that remained elusive. Yet it was a splendid clash, a fine meshing of mind and spirit with the melding of bodies.

It was glory. It was sensuality incarnate. It was an entanglement from which there was no surcease, no surrender.

And no defeat.

CAMMIE WAS COMFORTED YET DEPRESSED
as
she drove away from the Fort. She had made love to Reid, and accepted the love he made to her, as if there were no tomorrow. But there was always a tomorrow.

Maybe that's what she was afraid of: she didn't want tomorrow to come.

She hadn't wanted to leave. Reid had insisted. He thought it best, for her protection. As if it mattered.

He had done his job of protecting her too well. She no longer felt safe unless he was near.

What did that say for her common sense?

She still hadn't got a straight answer from him about Janet Baylor. Fear, that was what kept her from pressing the issue. What would she do if he confessed to getting the paralegal out of town, either through threat or bribery?

Then there was Keith. She was haunted by images of how terrified he must have been when he knew he was going to die. Courage had never been his long suit; he would have begged to live. Or maybe not; it was impossible to judge, and more than a little presumptuous.

The headlights appeared in her rearview mirror almost immediately after she left the private road leading to Reid's house. Whoever was in the car came on at speed, moving in close behind her. They hung on her back bumper.

Tailgating of that kind was unsafe anywhere, but out here on the dark and winding game reserve road, with its many blind curves and deer crossings, it was downright homicidal. There was no excuse for it; the chances of being able to pass were nil. It had to be a joyriding idiot, or else some teenager showing off for his friends or some girl he had brought out into the woods.

Cammie tried increasing her speed. It didn't help; the other car clung like a burr. She tapped her brake pedal a couple of times. The car behind her fell back for an instant, then came on again.

It was a relief when the main highway to Greenley appeared ahead of her and she turned on it. She expected her tailgater to pull out to pass at the first empty stretch of road. She slowed and pulled over closer to the shoulder to make it easier.

It didn't happen. The other car barreled along behind her, almost touching her back bumper. She speeded up again.

For the first time, fear brushed her. There seemed to be something personal in the high-speed hazing. Who would do such a thing? The possibilities were wide, if she thought about it. It could be the same person who had killed Keith. Or it might be any one of the dozens of people who resented her opposition to mill expansion. She held her speed steady while she tried to decide what to do.

She realized after an instant that there was no need to panic. The outskirts of Greenley, with its streetlights and business signs, would be showing up any second. She would be able to see whoever was back there then. If they did not drop farther behind her, there would be too much chance of being recognized.

Unless the driver decided to fall back from easy view, then follow her home after she passed through Greenley.

The big convenience store and truck stop at the edge of town was lit up like an airport at Christmas. Cammie flipped up her signal blinker, hit the brake, and wheeled into the entranceway. Rocketing between the gas pumps and the front door, she came to a halt.

Behind her there was the shriek of brakes, then the other car shot around the gas pumps on the far side, swung in a tight curve and slammed to a stop. The driver wrenched himself from behind the wheel and swung in her direction.

Cammie was half out of her car on her way toward the store door when she saw who had been driving the other car.

Gordon Hutton.

Anger swept through her with the force of a wildfire in dry woods. She didn't wait for her brother-in-law to reach her, but stalked toward him. “What in the world do you think you're doing? You could have killed us both!”

“I was trying to chase you down,” Gordon said with a sneer on his round face. “I've been needing to talk to you for days, while you've been flying high, all over the country. I saw you leaving Sayers's place just now and decided to stick to your tail till you stopped.”

“You could have called to set up a meeting,” Cammie said in cold distaste.

“I've left a half-dozen messages with your housekeeper, for what good it did me. It's my belief she only passes on what she wants you to know.”

Cammie had not checked with Persephone, though she saw no reason to tell him so. “So what did you want?”

He moved closer, curling his big, too-white hands into fists. The fumes of bourbon wafted toward her along with stale body odor and the sickly, bitter sweetness of some cheap men's cologne. It was all Cammie could do not to take a step back, if only for the fresher air.

“It's about time,” he said, “that we come to an understanding, now that you've got your hands on a piece of the mill. Your meddling with the sale got my goat before, but I was willing to overlook it because I knew it was a silly female way of getting back at Keith over the divorce business. Now I want it stopped.”

The contempt in his voice was enraging; his calm assumption that he could tell her what to do destroyed any hope he might have had of persuading her to listen to him. With chill disdain in her eyes, she said, “This may come as a shock to you, Gordon, but I've never been particularly interested in what you want.”

“Bitch,” he said, and clamped his teeth together so hard his jowls shook. “You always were selfish, never gave a damn about anybody or anything. It's no wonder Keith had to leave home to find the kind of woman he needed.”

Cammie wondered, for a bare instant, if he was right, if her lack of caring had driven Keith away. Then memory and sanity returned. Her smile was grim. “You can turn that around, you know. Maybe I learned to care about myself because no one else ever did.”

“That's a crock. Half the men in this town have been drooling over you for ages. And you know it.”

There was something in his fleshy face that made her skin crawl. It wasn't the first time she'd noticed it, though it was the first that she had acknowledged its source. Gordon Hutton coveted his brother's wife; he always had. She lifted her chin as she answered, “It isn't the same thing.”

He snorted. “You've solved your little problem, though, haven't you? You've got Sayers where you want him — in your favorite position, on his knees.”

Keith had been a sullen drunk. Gordon, it seemed, turned crude when he had too much. Alcohol didn't change character, it only brought out traits usually kept hidden. The results could be instructive.

“I don't have to listen to this,” she said, distaste congealing on her features in the blue-white fluorescent light from inside the convenience store. “If you want to discuss the mill, call Fred Mawley when you're sober. I'll meet with you in his office.”

Gordon's eyes widened in shock. “Why, you—”

Cammie didn't stay to listen. Ducking into her car, she slammed the door and put the Cadillac in gear. She reversed in a wide, fast swing, then pulled away.

The squeal of tires behind her told her Gordon was coming after her again. That he actually thought he could get away with harassing her like this turned her anger into a clear-headed rage she had felt only a few times in her life. She wasn't going to stop again for him. But neither was she going to run away. And if he had the gall to follow her all the way to Evergreen, Keith's brother just might hear a few home truths he would prefer not to know.

Gordon's headlights still glared in her car mirrors when she turned into the drive. Though she parked in the garage, she thought he was going to ram into the Cadillac before she could get out of it.

He piled out of his own vehicle and stood blocking her way as she stalked from the dark garage interior. Gordon's stumplike legs were spread and he had his hands on his hips.

“Nobody talks to me like that, sister,” he began, grating ugliness in his tone.

“Nor would I, if you hadn't pushed it,” she replied, countering him with a sharp refusal to be intimidated. “Since you have, there are a few other things on my mind. To start with, I don't appreciate you sneaking around spying on me, or following me.”

“That's ridiculous. I was just driving by the Fort—”

“Sure you were,” she said in scathing disbelief. He had made a tactical error by defending himself, but she didn't intend to allow him to recover from it. “For another thing, you may have thought it was smart to encourage Keith to force himself on me to stop our divorce, but you came close to getting your brother killed then. Not that you cared. All you wanted was to be sure you got your precious money for the mill. Money, that's what you love, and Keith knew it. That's why he was afraid to tell you he was up to his ears in gambling debts. That's why he was so desperate that he embezzled from the mill instead of coming to you for help!”

All expression vanished from Gordon Hutton's face, leaving it dull and stupid with shock, there in the stabbing brilliance of his car's headlights. His voice was hoarse as he said, “He what?”

“Embezzlement. A half million, at least. And you never missed it, never even guessed it was gone. Reid had to discover the loss.”

He opened his mouth for a gasping breath. “I don't believe it. Keith wouldn't do that. Why, taking money from the mill would be like taking it out of his own brother's pocket.”

“Reid's too, you might remember,” she reminded him.

His eyes blinked as he absorbed the implications of what he had heard. “That's why Sayers went after him—”

“If you mean the day Keith got beat up, that wasn't Reid. The best bet is that it was a reminder from the people he owed.”

“God.” Gordon's face turned pasty and his shoulders sagged. “I'd have helped him find the money if he'd come to me. Why would he — the Huttons don't do things like that. Ah, God, it'll kill Mama when she hears.”

Cammie felt a stir of compunction. He had cared after all, it seemed. He also had his pride: in his family, in the mill, in a long tradition of fair dealing. There had never been any indication that he or his father, or his grandfather before him, had been anything except honest men. To know that his brother had held none of it of value must be a blow.

Abruptly, he straightened. “If Keith took the money, it was because of you, because he hated you having more than he did.”

“I'm not to blame for his ego problems.”

“You made him feel half a man. But I don't believe any of it, not of my brother. You're a lying bitch. It's not enough for you to force him from his home and destroy him — you have to ruin his name, too.”

Cammie gave him back stare for stare. “Keith did a fine job of ruining himself without my help.”

Gordon lifted a fist, shaking it in front of her face. “Shut up! Shut your lying mouth. If I hear you're spreading this story, I'll make you the sorriest woman who ever drew breath. You're just trying to queer the mill deal by making out there's financial problems. I won't stand for it. You hear me? I'll see you dead first!”

“Be very careful,” she said, her voice lethal in its softness. “The last man to threaten me didn't live long.”

His head came up. “You mean — Keith?”

She made no reply, only watched him with an unwavering gaze.

He took a step backward. Swearing under his breath, he whirled and threw himself into his car. He backed down the drive so fast the smell of burning rubber was left hanging in the air. Within seconds his taillights had disappeared and the sound of his engine was dying away.

Cammie let out the shuddering breath she had not known she was holding. She turned away, fumbling with the keys in her hand, though she was shaking so badly that she couldn't seem to untangle the back door key from the rest.

A shadow moved near the steps. She halted with a small scream catching in her throat.

“It's only me,” Reid said.

There was something in his voice, a wariness she had never heard before. There was no smile on his strained features. His chest was rising and falling as if he'd been running. She had left him so short a time ago. He must have started through the woods for Evergreen almost the instant she was out of sight.

When she made no answer, he went on, “I saw the car, heard voices, when I made my usual patrol. I thought you might need help. You didn't.”

His usual patrol. She had known, of course, even if she hadn't admitted it to herself. That consideration was wiped from her mind, however, as she realized what he had heard.

The words she had spoken to Gordon could have sounded more like a threat than the warning she had intended. And he already thought it was possible that she had killed Keith. Or so he had pretended.

“You're wrong,” she said. “I did need you.”

“Why,” he asked, tipping his head to one side. “Would you like me to kill him for you instead. Is that why you're keeping me around, after all?”

It wasn't an offer. Nor was it a joke. He meant to ask if she would like him to murder Gordon instead of doing it herself. He had suggested something similar before in order to provoke a rise from her, and in retaliation for making him admit he was capable of it. This time he was deadly serious; he really thought she wanted Gordon dead.

Cammie flashed him a look of stark and painful disbelief before she whirled from him. She stumbled as she pounded up the steps and across the porch. It took her the third try to put her key into the lock. She pushed inside, slamming the heavy door behind her.