Branded (10 page)

“Don't act like you don't know where I'm going and why.” He fixed her with a harsh stare. “What the hell were you doing with Deacon Cavanaugh today?”

Anxiety rushed up from her toes and kept going until it settled real heavy and annoying-like inside her skull. She shrugged as casually as she could manage. “Fixing fences, having lunch.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “That it?”

“'Course.”

“Come on, Mac,” he said on a forced laugh. “I mean, it's been a while since I met a girl who made my insides explode.” He grinned. “Who made me look at her like I wanted to lick every inch of her skin lollipop-style—”

“Jesus, Blue!”

He laughed again. “But I know what it looks like. And Mr. Billionaire Cavanaugh had that look all over his face, in his eyes, and in that growl he fixed on me when I interrupted things down at the lake.”

“You didn't interrupt things.”

He pushed his chair back and stood up. “Why are you denying this?”

She didn't know. Maybe because she wanted to pretend it wasn't there. Maybe because whatever it was that Deacon felt where she was concerned was going to be short-lived and painful. If she kept pursuing it, that is.

“He wants you,” Blue said flatly.

“No.” She said the word like it actually meant something, like it could combat the truth, maybe even the desire raging in her heart. “That's just him. He's a player.”

“Well, I've no doubt about that. I'm just telling you to be careful. He wants you and he wants the Triple C. Now, depending on what this test says, his destruction of the one may turn out to be none of my business.” His eyes darkened. “But the other . . . I'll bury him if he tries.”

Before Mac could say another word, she heard a commotion out in the hallway. She expected several people to walk through the door, but the only person who did was the very one she unfortunately ached to see. The one Blue had just basically threatened to knock out if he hurt her.

Gone was his Stetson, leaving his thick black hair molded slightly to his head. His tan skin was dirty, his boots, jeans, and T-shirt, too. His black eyes were as cold as a snake's, but even so he fairly radiated heat.

Mac had never seen anything so sexy in her life. And yet as he came to stand in front of Blue, his jaw set and his imperious attitude turned up to high, she wished he'd never come back home at all.

He avoided her gaze and trained it solely on Blue. “How much?”

“How much for what?” Blue asked.

“For your share in the Cavanaugh Cattle Company.”

Mac's heart dropped into her belly, and she felt simultaneously furious at both Deacon and Everett. One for making this into a grand and ugly display, and the other for cheating on his family and lying to all of them about it.

“So it's true,” Blue said, his tone as even as Deacon's.

“DNA doesn't lie,” Deacon replied.

Blue glanced over at Mac, then shook his head. “This is unbelievable.”

She went to him at once, grabbed his hand and stood by his side.

Deacon's jaw tightened, but his gaze remained on Blue. “I'll give you five million right now.”

Mac gasped, instant anger firing her blood. “He's not selling.”

“Mac—” Blue began, but she cut him off quick.

“Stop it, Deacon.”

“Not your business, Mackenzie.” Though Deacon spoke to her, his eyes never left Blue. “You can do a lot with five million dollars, Mr. Perez.”

“Don't call him that,” Mac warned.

“Start your own ranch,” Deacon continued. “Your own life.”

Mac felt as if her heart would explode inside her chest. “You're being a manipulative jackass—you know that?”

Blue's eyes cut her way again. “Actually, he's being the most honest one here.”

Mac glared at him, shocked. “What?”

“He's the only one who has his cards on the table, open and honest, about what he plans to do.”

She released his hand. “He wants to bulldoze this fucking ranch, Blue!” She knew she sounded out of control, but she didn't care.

“I don't know if I blame him, Mac.”

She stared at him, disbelieving, then uttered, “Oh my God.” She turned and caught sight of Elena coming into the kitchen.

The woman stopped dead when she saw them.

Blue saw her, too, and he sniffed. “See, lies and betrayal have a way of souring your feelings about a place, Mac.”

Elena blanched, and Mac considered knocking him upside the head for purposely baiting her. He was angry at her. Had a right to be. But he wasn't going to be cruel. She wouldn't allow it.

“You wouldn't understand that, Mac,” Blue continued. “But I believe my brother here does.”

Deacon's eyes lit with the fire of impending triumph. “That a yes, Mr. Cavanaugh?”

“Naw. You were right before,” Blue said. “It's Perez. But I'm going to have to think about it.”

The answer clearly displeased Deacon, and his nostrils flared with impatience. Mac knew he probably wasn't used to hearing no from anyone.

“Offer's good for twenty-four hours,” Deacon said tightly. “Then it's off the table.”

“Look,” Blue said in a cold yet calm voice. “I took your test because I wanted to know for certain and because I'm not a complete jackass. But I won't be pushed into making the decision of a lifetime. Twenty-four hours ain't gonna do it.”

Something close to respect flickered in Deacon's sharp green eyes, and after a moment, he nodded. “All right.”

Blue looked surprised. “All right?”

Deacon shrugged. “Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a complete jackass either,” he said, his gaze shifting momentarily to Mac and then back again. “But I won't wait longer than a week.”

Blue nodded and then stuck out his hand. “Fair enough.”

As they shook hands, Mac watched, knowing that if she allowed it, if she didn't fight it, these two men had the power to dictate not only
her
future—but the future of everyone who counted on and loved the Triple C.

So fight it, she would.

“And you didn't invite him? To our Cavanaugh brothers' happy hour?”

Beer in hand, Deacon tossed his little brother a wry grin. “I would've, Cole, but when I offered, he tossed the Cavanaugh name right back in my face.”

“Shit, can you blame him?” James said, his gaze moving around the bar.

Celebrating its fifth anniversary, the Bull's Eye was a pretty recent addition to downtown River Black. And obviously a welcome one, Deacon mused, if the lively Wednesday-night crowd was any indication.

After the revelation that Blue was indeed their brother, Deacon, James, and Cole had all decided to meet up, have a few beers, some food, and, if Deacon could manage it, another opportunity to discuss selling off their shares of the ranch to him.

“He found out his mother's lied to him all these
years, and Everett, too,” James continued, his grip easy around the neck of his beer. “I hear they were pretty close.”

Deacon's head came up. “Who told you that?”

James's gaze shuttered, and he looked away, inhaled sharply. “Think it was Sam.”

Deacon snorted. “That old man talks too much.”

“You think he's lying?” Cole asked, then drained the rest of his beer.

“No,” Deacon said, reaching for a hot wing. “I'm sure they were as close as father and son. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Blue had suspected something.”

“Well, he was the son none of us were—that's for sure,” Cole said with a bitter edge to his voice. “Stuck around. Worked Daddy's land.”

“Our land now,” Deacon said.

“That's right. The four of us.” James's gaze locked with his, and the stubborn coolness behind his eyes concerned Deacon.

But he only nodded. He didn't see any reason to tell his brothers about his offer to Blue. Not yet. Not until he had a firm answer.

As if reading his mind, Cole turned to him and asked, “So, did Blue give any clue as to what he wants for the ranch? What he plans to do with his share?”

“Come on, Cole,” James said just as someone switched on the jukebox and an old Whitesnake
song filled the bar. “He's going to want to stay. He lives here. His mama lives here. His work is here.”

“And Mackenzie's here,” Cole added.

Deacon felt a rumble in his chest at the mention of her name and tore into the hot wing with supreme relish.

“Well, can't believe I'm saying it,” James began. “Especially about Mac. But damn, that woman could keep a man locked into this place. Forget about the money; she's turned into every cowboy's dream.”

Deacon tossed the small chicken bones onto his plate, his expression as tight as his gut now. “Blue isn't interested in Mackenzie.”
Not if he wants to keep that nice white smile intact
. “They're friends.”

Cole snorted. “Sure they are.”

“I wish I could find a friend like that,” James said. “Loyal, beautiful, fearless. Women like that don't grow on trees.” He grinned.
“I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell
.
”

“Okay, you're cut off, Shakespeare,” Deacon said, grabbing another beer and pointing the bottle's neck at the man's face. “That dark ale's going to your brain.”

“I kind of like that one,” Cole said, ignoring Deacon. “Sexy. And damn apropos. What's it from, J?”

“A little play called
A Midsummer Night's Dream
.”

Cole turned to Deacon and grinned wide, looking
like a young randy boy, despite the near military haircut and all the tats. “What'd I say? It's summer. Night's coming on. Dream girl. Apropos.” He dropped his chin and clarified. “I'm not talking about Mac, y'all. We clear? She's great and pretty and everything, but she's family.”

“She's not family,” Deacon said tightly and emphatically.

A dark-haired woman dressed in black jeans and a white tank top bumped into their table, sending an empty beer bottle flying onto the floor. She was short, curvy, had a real pretty face and a smile that could melt the polar ice caps. And she had all three men up and out of their seats to help her.

But Cole got to her first. Turning on the smooth Texas charm he was so famous for—and that brought nearly more women than men to his fights—he gripped her forearm, steadying her. “You all right, darlin'?”

“Oh, shoot,” she said, laughing softly. “I'm so sorry.”

“It's no problem, sweetheart,” he drawled. “Let me help you out there.”

“Thank you.” She laughed again. “I'm fine. It's just these shoes.” She gestured to the three-inch black leather heels she was wearing. “It's my first night trying them out.”

“Well, careful as you go,” Cole said. “We don't
want any accidents tonight, nothing bad happening to a pretty thing like you.”

Her pale green eyes brushed past both Deacon and James before she gave them all one final smile before turning and walking away.

“I could go after her,” Cole nearly growled as they all sat back down. He grinned wickedly. “Make sure she doesn't stumble into someone else's table. Let her know my hands and I are available at all hours to assist her.”

Then suddenly his grin died, and he glanced back over his shoulder, following the woman's movement. “Hey,” he said, the easy Texas charm draining out of his voice. “Wasn't that the woman I saw you with this morning, James?” Cole turned around and looked at his brother. “At the diner?” he pressed.

“No,” James answered simply. “I wasn't at the diner this morning.”

“What are you talking about, man?” Cole returned, the full beer he'd just grabbed completely forgotten. “I saw you.”

James shook his head. “Wasn't me.”

Cole turned and glanced over at Deacon with an expression that screamed,
He's fucking lying right now
.

Deacon turned back to James and studied his expression. Unreadable, cool, impassive. Typical James. Deacon didn't know what was going on
with his brother, if he knew that woman or not, but James had always kept his thoughts and his actions to himself, unless he felt like sharing. Pushing or threatening hadn't worked back when they were kids, and it wasn't going to work now.

He gave Cole a little shrug. “The man says he wasn't at the diner.”

Cole looked from brother to brother, his black eyes flashing with irritation. “Fine,” he spat out. “I must've been in an endorphin haze or something.”

“Or something,” James added, his mouth curving into a smile as the cloud that had covered his eyes a second ago lifted.

Cole flipped him the bird, then switched back into bar-night mode. “All right, cow patties, I say we forget about why we're in this town, the new addition to the family, and what lies ahead, and invite a few of these hometown fillies to our table and see what happens.”

“I'm up for seeing what happens,” James said cautiously. “But that one with the heels is off-limits.”

Deacon tossed him a curious grin. “I thought you said you didn't know her.”

“That's right,” James returned dryly, his ocean-colored eyes once again impassive.

Cole snorted, clearly done with the subject. “Whatever, Shakespeare.” He turned and winked at Deacon, grinned like a cat over a canary. “Deac,
that redhead with the blue dress and fine ass over at the far table has been fucking you with her eyes since we got here.”

Not even remotely compelled to look, Deacon pulled back his chair and stood up. “Have fun, boys. But not too much fun.”

“What? Where you going?” Cole demanded. “This is a Cavanaugh brothers moment.”

“You don't need me.”

“Well, shit, boy, of course we don't, but we'd like you.” Cole reclined back in his chair and stared innocently up at Deacon. “I'll give you my portion of the Triple C if you stay.”

“He's lying,” James said dryly.

“'Course I am,” Cole said with a laugh. “What's up, Deac? You need to get yer beauty rest or somethin'?”

“Or somethin',” Deacon answered.

Cole laughed while James studied him. “I think he's going home to Mackenzie,” he said.

That brought Cole out of his Cheshire cat mood and nearly out of his chair. “What?” he said, looking between the pair.

Deacon's eyes narrowed on James. How the hell could he know that? Or even suspect that? The man wasn't even staying in the house.

“Damn, brother,” Cole said, his expression serious, maybe even a little pissed off. “You got a thing for Mac?”

“It's not a thing,” Deacon muttered dryly. It was more like a potential obsession. A driving hunger he couldn't seem to satiate. But he needed to keep trying. Goddamn, he needed to keep trying.

“I know you two were talking about her earlier,” Cole said, his tone threaded with warning. “James saying she was beautiful and tough. But that's just talk. She's got to be off-limits.” He eyed Deacon. “You feel me, Deac? She was Cass's best friend. She's family—”

“She's not family,” Deacon said again, this time with a decidedly sharp edge to his tone. He leaned over the table, so only the two men could hear him. “If she were family, she'd not only be carrying scars; she'd be wearing them.” He turned to Cole. “You feel
me
, Cole?”

Both men just stared at him.

Deacon inhaled deeply, then let it out. “Have a lovely evening, gentlemen.” He didn't wait for them to respond. Just turned and walked away, out into the night, to his truck.

On the way back to the Triple C, he tried to push his brothers out of his mind and concentrate on both the plans he had when he gained control over the Triple C and all the work he had coming down the pike at Cavanaugh Group. Including his upcoming dinner with Angus Breyer. But none of it took root. As the warm night air rushed in
from the open windows of his truck, all his mind wanted to think about was Mackenzie. What was she doing tonight? Was she hanging out with Blue? Comforting him? Talking things over with him?

His lips pressed together. Were they discussing Deacon? His offer, and his terrible, unexplainable need to ruin the Triple C? Was Blue warning her to steer clear of him, that he was nothing but trouble? And could Deacon blame the man if he had?

The house was quiet when he walked through the door twenty minutes later. The kitchen light was off, and Deacon wondered if Blue was even around or if he was still avoiding his mother. Sleeping out under the stars for the second night in a row.

Bypassing the door to his own room, Deacon headed for Mac's. He knew this was just another check mark in a laundry list of asinine moves lately, but he couldn't help himself. He needed to see her. After what had gone down in the kitchen earlier, after they'd gotten the results of Blue's DNA test and Deacon had offered him the five million to walk away, he needed to know that she didn't hate his guts. Pissed off at him was fine, but hate . . .

He knocked softly on her door. He wondered if she was already asleep. He hadn't glanced at the clock in the truck, but it couldn't be later than
nine thirty. When she didn't answer, he tried one more time. Last night had been a late, drunken, stressful one, so maybe she'd dropped off early?

“She's not there,” came a female voice to his right.

Deacon turned to see Elena Perez down at the end of the hallway. She was in a nice set of deep purple pajamas. Her feet were bare, her hair was piled on top of her head, and she hugged a white stone mug to her chest.

“Is she out?” he asked, his tone as calm as he could make it. “Working late?” He refused to say the words “On a date?” Shit, he didn't even want to contemplate that idea.

“She left,” Elena said softly.

Deacon felt the breath leave his body and icy-cold fingers dig into his spine. “She left town?” he asked.

“No,” Elena said, her gaze watchful, curious. “She left the house. She didn't want to stay here anymore.” She sighed heavily. “Seems that's how everyone's feeling these days.”

“Do you know where she is?”

Elena nodded. “But she doesn't want you to know.”

His chest tightened like someone had a vise to it. “Blue staying with her?”

She shook her head, her eyes dropping to the steaming cup in her hands. “No. Blue's staying in
town. Farthest he can get from me without actually movin' to another city.”

The last thing in this goddamn world Deacon wanted to feel was sorry for his father's mistress. But in truth, they'd all been screwed by Everett. Who the hell knew what had really gone down between them.

He started down the hall toward her. He knew Mackenzie was on Triple C land. She was foreman. She wasn't going to live off-site. Just wasn't done. And if she was on Cavanaugh land, Deacon would find her. Find her and apologize. He stopped in front of the housekeeper. “You make those brownies Mackenzie brought in her lunch today?”

The blatant grief in Elena's eyes lifted a touch, and she nodded. “You liked them?”

“Best I ever had,” he said in all honesty. He raised a brow at her. “There any more? I'm fixin' to have me a little late-night snack.”

•   •   •

What did she need TV, electricity, or hot water for? She had her books, plenty of candles, and the breeze off the river.

Lying on the porch swing, listening to the water move over and through the rocks, Mac tried to get lost in the mystery novel propped on her chest, but it wasn't as easy as she'd hoped. She didn't have any guilty feelings or worries about leaving the
main house. In fact, she'd promised Elena she'd be back for breakfast and to get her sack lunch. But there was a very big part of her that wanted to be as close to Deacon as possible. Even after his prickish behavior toward her and his ugly and impulsive five-million-dollar offer to Blue.

She placed the book down on her chest with a sigh and stared up at the sky. The moon was at half-mast, and the stars winked something fierce at her. The lusting for Deacon Cavanaugh she couldn't fight—not after that kiss or all he'd said at the lake while he was feeding her a chocolate brownie—but his plan to destroy the Triple C, that she could.