Running Scared (17 page)

“Yes, but—” Where was the tenderness? The love? A dull roar started in her ears, sounding like the din of the sea, the same roar she heard whenever she was in trouble.

He ripped the blouse from her torso and she’d never felt more naked in her life. He was kissing her sloppily, wet and anxious, his fingers fumbling at the back fastening of her bra. This wasn’t right, she thought wildly as the hook gave way and he yanked the scanty fabric down her arms.

He was touching her, groaning, breathing fast, and yet it was as if he wasn’t really there, as if only his body was in the room, that his soul had departed.

“Collin, wait—” she whispered as his sweaty hands kneaded her back.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think…”

“Don’t tell me you’re a tease, Bibi.” He pulled his head away from hers to stare at her with condemning eyes. “Not you. Not with me.”

“I said I just want to love you.”

“You will,” he said in a breathy voice, but glanced over her shoulder, as if he expected someone to barge in on them.

“I mean, I want to, really I do, but—”

He stood suddenly then and glared down at her as if she were a piece of meat—rotten and foul. “Get up.”

“No—” The roar in her ears was deafening, and she noticed that when he looked at her breasts, his expression didn’t change, even though she’d been told before how spectacular they were. Large and full, crowned with big dark nipples, the two boys who had been given the privilege of viewing and touching them had raved about their beauty. Collin didn’t seem to notice, or to care, even when she crawled to the side of the bed and stood directly in front of him. No playful tweak, no guilty glance. Nothing.

“You can’t have it both ways, Bibi. Either you want to do it with me or you don’t. We can end it now or we can go all the way. It’s up to you.” His voice was cold and harsh as a judge meting out a sentence.

“But you don’t want me,” she accused him, swallowing hard, feeling hot tears shimmering in her eyes.

“Of course I do.”

“No, something’s wrong.”

He closed his eyes for a second, as if he was mentally counting to ten, trying to gain some self-control.

“You’re not the same.”

“You’re right,” he admitted as she covered herself with her hands. He glanced again to the doorway, as if he were attempting to find answers to their dilemma. “This is hard for me, too. I’m not sure it’s right.”

“Because we’re cousins.”

“No,” he said, hesitating and biting his lip as he had during childhood whenever he was faced with hard decisions. “Because I care about you.” He seemed sincere, though he didn’t meet her gaze. “I don’t like the idea of using you.”

“You won’t.”

“Oh, Bibi—”

“I won’t let you.” Sadness converged on his features and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if his sudden attack of nobility were too much to bear. This was the Collin she loved, this was her hero. “It’s all right.”

“No, Bibi, you don’t understand.”

“Sure I do.” She shifted, holding a breast in each hand, rubbing the hard tips of her nipples against his chest, letting him gaze down at the huge pillowy mounds. “I love you.” She wound her fingers in his and raised his hand, guiding him to her nipples, then she moved sensually, using her hand and his, feeling that little hot tickle of desire deep between her legs as she always did when she massaged her nipples. “Touch me, Collin, touch me all over and love me,” she whispered throatily.

“It’s not just you and me,” he protested.

“It is right now. Let me love you.”

“Bibi, don’t do this.” She dropped his hand and ran her fingers over his shoulders, feeling the power within his muscles as he kissed her. But the kiss had no life and his fingers had stopped kneading her breast. His sudden attack of conscience had drunk up all his desire. But Bibi knew how to get it back. She kissed him hungrily, then let her tongue slide down his chin, neck, and breastbone. She didn’t stop until she reached his fly, and dropping to her knees, she slid the button and zipper open with deft, well-practiced fingers, only to find that he wasn’t hard, that he was as limp as a wet dishrag.

“What?” she asked, gazing up at him.

His face was twisted in silent agony and his eyes glistened as if he was fighting tears.

“Collin?”

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, swallowing as his fingers played in her hair.

“Why not?”

“It’s not right.”

“Probably not,” she admitted, “but I can make you feel better.” His hands curled into fists. She thought she heard the scrape of a shoe against the tile floor. But that was silly. They were alone and he didn’t flinch, just stood over her, his eyes trained on the darkened hallway.

Sometimes being able to look into another person’s mind was a pain in the butt—a damned curse. Worse yet, Daegan couldn’t control this gift—not one bit. Whenever he least expected it, he’d get a glimmer—just a hint of what someone was thinking—not enough to do any good, but a glimmer nonetheless. He’d never be able to make his living reading palms or predicting the future and yet he had to live with the knowledge that he was occasionally offered glimpses into another person’s soul, as he was now.

It was Bibi who was calling out to him. He heard her voice in his dreams, and tonight after work he’d gone to the pool hall, lost a little money, and drunk more beer than he usually did, then he’d staggered home, kicked off his shoes, stripped off his shirt and jeans, and fallen facedown on his bed when he heard her voice, panic-stricken and pained, bouncing off the walls in his mind. He’d told himself that he was drunk, that he was imagining everything, but he’d barely drifted off when the racket on the other side of his door drove him back to consciousness. Someone was pounding frantically on the ancient, peeling panels, rattling the lock, trying to wake the damned dead.

“Hell,” he muttered, blinking at the illuminated face of his clock as he snapped on the light. Two-thirty. He’d have to be downstairs with the pumps turned on at six.

The pounding continued making a horrendous racket. Forcing himself to his feet, he rubbed a calloused hand over his face. He knew before he opened the door that Bibi was on the landing at the top of his stairs.

“Oh, Daegan,” she cried as the door swung open. She burst into the room smelling of smoke, liquor, and perfume. Dropping onto a corner of his mussed bed, she cradled her head in her hands.

“Bibi?” He plowed his fingers through his hair and massaged his eyes. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Waving off his question, she shook her head. “I’m so stupid, so damned stupid!” she wailed, her voice filled with pain. “Oh, God, what am I going to do?”

“What’re you doing here?”

“I needed to get out, to get away…” Her words were slurred and he realized dully that she was as drunk as he. A dangerous combination.

“Away from what?”

“Them!” She spat out the word as if it were vile then started to sob, deep, soul-wracking sobs that shook her whole body. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she began to rock back and forth, forward and backward and forward again. Over and over.

He had no choice but to try and help her, to calm her down. “Come on, Bibi, what is it?” he said, sitting on the bed beside her and draping an arm over her shoulders.

“Collin.” She looked as if she might gag. “And Stuart.”

“I thought you liked them.”

“I did. Oh, God,” she wailed. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.” She was white as a sheet. “I’ve been such a fool, such a goddamned stupid fool.”

“Hey, slow down, tell me what happened,” he said, yawning.

“I can’t.” She shook her head quickly.

“But you came all the way down here—”

“Just hold me, okay?”

“Sure.” His arm tightened around her and she leaned into his shoulder, her tears hot as they drizzled from her eyes to his bare skin. As dull as he was, he knew that touching her was precarious, that she was hurt and he was nearly naked, that just the smell of her was causing a tightening in his gut and he was getting hard. Her breath whispered over his chest, ruffling his chest hairs. Determined to keep the stiffening in his groin at bay, he gritted his teeth.

“Can I stay with you?”

“I don’t think that would be such a good idea.” His little apartment wasn’t as bleak and austere as when he’d first moved in, but it was still a far cry from what she was used to. Though there was a secondhand throw rug on the floor, sheets and blankets on the bed, a stick or two of furniture, it was still a hovel—a dirty little apartment over the top of a service station. But then, even if he lived in a mansion, he wouldn’t think her staying with him would cause them anything but grief.

“Please. I just need to be away.”

What could he say? She obviously needed a friend and he—he needed a smoke. “Fine. You…you can sleep here. I’ll take the chair.”

“No. Please, Daegan, hold me tonight,” she begged, clinging to him. “Please, just hold me. I need someone.”

“But—”

“I’ll be good, I promise.”

“You are good,” he said.

“Then, please, hold me and protect me.”

Though his ale-soaked mind warned him that he was playing with fire, he sighed and turned off the light. They tumbled into the sheets together, sharing a pillow, and he swore that the swelling between his legs and his hot-blooded sexual urges wouldn’t get the better of him. He’d hold her, assure her, maybe even kiss the back of her neck, but that was all. He didn’t need the pain and agony of having slept with his cousin and yet she was so soft, so warm, so vital. When he pressed his lips to her hair and told her to sleep, she turned to him, her luscious mouth open, her arms circling his naked torso.

“You care about me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“And you think I’m…sexy.”

“Too sexy.” God, what was she doing? His head was pounding with desire, his cock hard as the rock of Gibraltar. “Go to sleep, Bibi.”

“Do you want me, Daegan?”

“Go to sleep.” His brain was on fire.

“Do you want me?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” He tried to think past the beer still clouding his judgment and the warm woman in his arms. His heart throbbed in his ears.

“I want you.”

“Shit!”

“I mean it.”

“Bibi, go to sleep or leave.” His mind was saying one thing, his body, hot and anxious, another.

“You don’t mean it.”

“Please, no—”

But she was kissing him already, her lips warm and soft and wet against the skin of his chest. “Let me,” she whispered in a breathy voice that reminded him of a summer breeze.

“Oh, God, don’t—”

She lowered herself slowly and his fingers tangled in her hair. With quick, hot ministrations, she rimmed one of his nipples with her tongue and the world began to spin.

“For the love of Mike—Bibi, please don’t—”

Her fingers dipped in the waistband of his jeans and skimmed his fly. He closed his eyes. The zipper opened with a quick, sharp hiss. His mouth was dry and his cock aching to be stroked. His insides turned to jelly as her breath, like the wanton air from the lungs of Jezebel, swept across his belly. His jeans slid to the floor and Daegan was lost. Forever.

His arms tightened around her, and mentally cursing, he gave himself into the passion drumming through his blood. He kissed her long and hard even though he knew there was no turning back.

Daegan opened one bleary eye and ran his tongue around teeth that were far from slick. His mouth tasted like the inside of a garbage can and his head throbbed. He’d drunk too much and then stumbled back here and…

Turning onto his side, he saw her and his stomach curled in on itself. He nearly retched all over the bed.

Bibi! Oh, hell, no!

He shot out of bed and made a startled sound of panic as the seduction crept into his mind in glorious, horrifying, sickening images. Bile rose up the back of his throat and he had to fight to keep from losing whatever was left in his guts. He tried and failed to block out how once he’d given into her anxious ministrations, he’d lost all inhibitions. They hadn’t stopped at making love once, oh, no. Theirs had been one helluva drunken sexual marathon.

Fool! Idiot! Stupe! What the devil were you thinking?
The contents of his stomach churned again. If only it were all a dream—a nightmare. He couldn’t believe that he’d had sex with his cousin. Shuddering, he stepped farther away from the bed, putting distance between her warm, naked body and his and feeling a strangle-hold of guilt tightening around his throat. For the love of God, what had he been thinking?

He’d made love to a Sullivan.

Disgust scraped at his soul. Stark naked, he walked to the sink in the bathroom and saw his reflection in the chipped mirror mounted over the faucets. He looked worse than he felt, and yet it seemed to him that an invisible vise had clamped his head in its steely, unforgiving jaws and the pressure on his brain, as the vise was tightened, made him feel that he was about to explode.

He had to be perverted for sleeping with her. Depraved. Abnormal. All of the above. A real sicko. And he couldn’t really blame the situation on the booze. He’d wanted Bibi. He stared into bloodshot, guilt-riddled eyes and sneered, “You stupid bastard.”

He was no better than his monster of a father. Using and abusing women. Splashing water over his face, Daegan tried to think. He had about fifteen minutes to get to work, fifteen lousy minutes to figure out what he was going to do about Bibi as well as the rest of his life.

He thought of their coupling and spat into the sink. It was as if once he’d crossed the forbidden threshold, he hadn’t been able to get enough. Her body welcomed him, and in his drunken state, he hadn’t even bothered with a rubber! “Goddamned fool,” he ground out.

Grinding his teeth at the recollections that kept picking at his brain, he quickly showered, hoping the hot water would erase the memories, knowing that he’d have to face her sooner or later. He stayed in long enough for the tank to drain and the temperature of the weak spray to drop. What could he say to her? What could he do? They would never be close again.

Throwing on his brown, grease-stained uniform, he slowly counted to ten, ran fingers through his wet hair, and found the courage to open the bathroom door. A cloud of steam followed him into the living area where Bibi slept. The smell of stale booze, cigarettes, and sex filled the room, and he opened a window just as a train rattled on tracks not far away. It was still dark outside; not quite six o’clock, the air smelled early-morning fresh. The eastern sky was beginning to streak with the hint of dawn.

Sooner or later he’d have to face up to what he’d done, but she appeared so peaceful and untroubled as she slumbered, as if the world couldn’t hurt her, that he didn’t have the heart to wake her and remind her that he, along with Stuart and Collin, the three men she should have been able to trust, had used and abused her.

Oh, Jesus, what was he going to do?

He lit a cigarette from the pack she’d left on the file cabinet he used for a nightstand. Smoking silently, knowing he was already late, he watched the sun rise. He should rouse her, he supposed, but he didn’t. Instead he tucked the blanket under her chin, brushed a stray lock of hair off her cheek, then stubbed out the smoke and hurried downstairs to turn on the lights and start the pumps. He could take a break around ten, check on her, and tell her that last night had been a big mistake, that he hadn’t known what he’d been thinking, that he liked and respected her but couldn’t be her lover.

He muttered an oath under his breath. Anything he could say sounded twisted and depraved and trite.

Locking the door behind him, he took a big, bracing gulp of air, then hurried down the stairs. Like it or not he had to turn his attention to the job at hand. A big tanker-truck was already waiting, the driver anxious to fill the underground tanks. The idling engine rumbled smoothly, exhaust filling the air with the heavy scent of diesel. Cupping his hands around the end of a cigarette he was lighting, the trucker disregarded the bold
NO SMOKING
sign posted near the front door.

“Hey, whaddya think I’m doin’ here?” the driver said, clicking his lighter shut as he spied Daegan. A cloud of smoke rolled out with his words. “I don’t got all effin’ day, y’know.”

“I’ll just be a minute,” Daegan said, unlocking the front door and snapping on the lights in the service bays as well as the reception area by the cash register. Ignoring his throbbing head and the fact that the thick stench of diesel was playing havoc with his sensitive stomach this morning, he searched for the invoice sheets for the gas that was expected to be delivered from the distributor, found a clipboard, and half ran outside. With the quick motions of someone who was familiar with his task, he unlocked the covers to the underground tanks. Soon gas was flowing from the truck through a huge hose.

A car pulled into the pump area and the bell mounted over the door chimed loudly. Daegan dashed to help the first customer and tried not to notice that in the side lot, parked between a rusted-out shell of a Pontiac and a Volkswagen van that still sported a faded peace symbol and psychedelic art work, was Bibi’s Corvette—metallic silver that sparkled in the dawn and looked as out of place as a yacht in a moorage for fishing dinghies.

“Fill ‘er up,” a familiar and grizzled face ordered as Daegan approached the driver’s side of the old Chevy wagon parked at the pumps.

What was the old coot’s name? Preston? No, Prescott. Oliver Prescott, that was it. “Sure thing.”

“Nice wheels.” Prescott shifted a match from one side of his mouth to the other as he gazed at Bibi’s car. “Yours?”

Daegan slid a quick look at the Corvette with its gleaming finish, leather interior, and expensive tape deck. “I wish.”

“You and me both.” Prescott laughed in a rasp until he began a coughing fit that brought tears to his eyes and rendered it impossible for him to dig into his wallet to extract some bills. Finally, he was able to pay. “Well,” he said, handing Daegan a twenty, “you and me both can keep on dreaming about expensive cars and fancy women, eh?”

Daegan’s mouth turned to sand and he thought about Bibi. What was he going to do with her? She hadn’t said what had happened to her earlier in the evening but he’d gathered that somehow she’d been humiliated by Stuart or Collin or both. No doubt she wouldn’t feel much better this morning when she remembered everything they’d done last night and realized that Daegan, too, had taken advantage of her.

That’s not the way it happened,
he reminded himself but couldn’t help feeling guilty as sin as he made change for his first customer. He should have been in control. She’d come to him for comfort and ended up with sex. Shit, what a mess.

By the time the mechanics showed up and he could break away, it was nearly eleven. Bibi was still in bed, the blankets drawn over her breasts, her eyes fixed on the stained ceiling tiles.

Daegan felt like an intruder in his own home. All the flaws—the dirty windows, grimy, cracked floor, noisy heat register that hissed and chugged no matter what he did—seemed to mock him.

What could he say to her? Nothing. They could no longer be friends. They’d crossed that barrier along with a dozen others when they’d let their bodies join in pure animal pleasure.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she whispered, her lower lip quivering.

“I know.” He couldn’t move, acted as if he’d been nailed to the interior of the door.

“You shouldn’t have let it.”

“I know.”

“Damn it, Daegan, is that all you can say?” she demanded, tears filling her gorgeous eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Blinking rapidly, she sniffed and ran the back of her hand under her nose. “Not half as sorry as I am.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“Damn right it won’t.” Her voice changed and she pursed her lips to each other as if fighting to hold herself together. “Do you know what they did to me?” When he didn’t answer, she turned to face him and the blankets shifted a little, showing off a hint of her cleavage. Daegan kept his eyes focused on her face. “Stuart and Collin, did I tell you how they set me up?”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now,” she said, drawing her body into a sitting position, her expression dull as she held the flimsy sheet over her body. Shoving a hank of hair from her face, she said, “God, I need a cigarette. Hand me my purse, would you?”

He did as she asked, depositing the leather bag on the bed near her, and she scrounged deep in the purse’s interior, drawing out a pack of Viceroys and lighting up. Shooting a stream of smoke in the air, she closed her eyes.

“I’ve always had a crush on Collin.”

“You don’t have to tell me this.” The less he knew of what went on between the Sullivans, the better.

“Yes, I do.” She sighed wearily. “That’s why I came over here in the first place.”

“No, Bibi, look, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well you’re going to. It’s the price you’ve got to pay for…for…for doing what you did to me.”

He cringed, but stood his ground. What they’d done, they’d done to each other, but he felt too guilty to argue about semantics. “If that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know what I want! That’s the problem.” Her voice wavered again and he was afraid she was going to break down altogether, but she was made of stronger stuff this morning. She tucked her knees close to her and wrapped one arm around them, messing the sheet that was her only covering. “What I need right now is for you to understand why I was so desperate, such a basket case, last night.”

“It won’t change things.”

“But it’ll help me.” Smoke drifted from her nostrils. “We were alone, the three of us—Stuart, Collin, and I—for the first time in a long, long while. Daddy—Robert—”

“I know who he is. We met.”

“You have?” Questions darkened her eyes. “When?”

“When he was convinced that I tried to kill Frank.”

“Oh.” She hesitated and he thought for a moment that he might be spared. Instead she just shook her head, bit her lip, then kept on talking. “Daddy threw a party at the lake house last night, the same kind he does every year when he and Mummy move up for the summer. It was a drag and Stuart, Collin, and I made ourselves scarce when all the guests arrived and started drinking. No one even missed us.”

She smiled bitterly, but her eyes were brimming with unshed tears again. “We hid out in the pool house, where we drank some of Daddy’s booze and…got a little drunk, I guess.” She shoved a hank of hair from her eyes, and her brow furrowed in concentration. “Some of the details are fuzzy, but we were all having fun, then Stuart had to leave, to make sure that no one got suspicious and came looking for us. Collin and I were pretty well ripped already, and like I said, I’ve had a crush on him for a long time. I kissed him and he kissed me back and one thing led to another.” She stared at the floor. “I got the impression, I mean, I thought he
wanted
me. He, uh, he let me believe that he cared but…” She blinked against her damning tears. “I, uh, sensed something was wrong, that he wasn’t excited, that he wasn’t really paying attention to me, but I thought that if I…showed him how much I cared…” Her voice drifted off and she seemed to forget that Daegan was in the room. Her cigarette burned neglected in her fingers. “I, um, tried my best to arouse him but it wasn’t working, and then I knew what was wrong.” She took in a long, shuddering breath. “We weren’t alone.”

A length of ash fell to the floor. Daegan didn’t move. Bibi didn’t notice. She wasn’t in the room any longer; she was far away, staring at the linoleum, but not seeing, reliving her mortification of the night before.

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Stuart hadn’t really left. He was in the hallway watching us, observing every intimate detail, hearing every word and…and Collin knew it. He couldn’t perform because he was self-conscious, but they both were going to let me go through with it, both listened as I begged Collin to make love to me, watched as I…well, as I tried all sorts of tricks with my hands and mouth.” Tears slid down her cheeks and chin. “I was such a fool.”

He lifted his empty hands and felt like a heel. Every male she’d trusted the night before had taken advantage of her, including him. “If I could change things, I would,” he said gruffly.

“Me, too.” Tears rained from her eyes. “How can I ever face them again?” Her voice was so small, it broke his heart. She lifted the cigarette to her lips.

“You weren’t to blame.”

Blinking rapidly, she sobbed. “I guess I’m a lousy seductress.”

“Not so lousy,” he said, the irony in his words audible.

“Oh, God, Daegan, and then you and I—”

“I know, I know.”

“How could they do it to me? How could I be so damned stupid and naive to let them use me for…for some kind of weird sport?”

“Don’t blame yourself, Bibi. Collin and Stuart, they’re as much to blame. More. They used you. I—I used you.”

“No, I think…” Her pretty face drew into a knot of concentration. “I think I used you.” She raised her eyes to his. “You tried to stop it.”

“But I didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t let you.”

He felt a sad smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “I could’ve been stronger. You didn’t rape me, Bibi.”

“Oh, God!” She dropped her cigarette into an open beer can and hiccupped loudly, crying hysterically.

He crossed the room and drew her into his arms. She flinched, but he didn’t let go, just whispered into her hair, telling her over and over again that things would work out even though he didn’t believe his hollow, soothing words. From that moment on, he knew he was damned. Forever. Her hair smelled of perfume and smoke and he held her until she was in control, until the hiccupping sobs subsided. He whispered platitudes. “Everything’s gonna be all right. It’s not the end of the world. You can put this behind you.” But he knew the words were all lies.