Running Scared (20 page)

As she’d claimed, Kate Summers had never remarried. But her declaration that the boy was fathered by her late husband was false. Either Kate’s gestation period was eleven months, the boy was fathered by a lover she’d slept with after old Jim had passed on, or the kid was adopted and the papers were phony.

Lie number one.

The reins slipped through his fingers and he scowled at the yellow blooms of tansy ragwort that persisted in growing on this rocky scrap of land. An ugly weed and deadly to cattle, tansy seemed to grow where nothing else would take root. A hardy, unwanted pest—kind of like bastard children.

Adjusting his hat, he turned the collar of his jean jacket around his neck. The wind was picking up, autumn crisp in the air. Heavy-bellied clouds rolled over the sky, threatening rain for the cracked, parched earth.

It looked like Jon didn’t even know he was adopted—had no concept that there was an entire family that was suddenly interested in him.

If Kate only knew what she was up against. He didn’t know how he was going to battle the Sullivan money, power, and influence, but at least he realized he was in for a fight. Kate Summers didn’t have a clue—or, he surmised grimly—a prayer. Yep, he’d have to tread lightly, but at the same time he’d have to move fast. If he’d found Kate and the boy so quickly, so would Robert.

That same old empty gnawing scraped at his guts. Whenever he pitted himself against the Sullivan family, he felt it eating away at him.

But this time he was determined to win.

And Kate Summers will lose.

Guilt knifed through his heart, but he ignored the wound. What happened to Kate was too damned bad. She’d started it a long time ago.

Daegan had always sworn that if he ever made the mistake of fathering a child, intentionally or by accident, he’d be a part of the kid’s life, but then he hadn’t counted on his one night with Bibi producing anything other than a bad taste in his mouth and a shadow of guilt to chase after him all his days.

He couldn’t very well just kidnap the boy as Bibi seemed to think was the answer, and no court in the country would give him custody. And what the hell would he do with a near-grown handful of trouble who could see into a man’s soul?

Disgusted at the turn of his thoughts, he steered the gelding across a dry gulch that had the nerve to call itself a creek, and headed back toward the cabin. A rabbit scurried out of the horse’s path and dust kicked up beneath his hooves as Daegan’s gaze never strayed from the fence line. He noted the posts that needed to be shored up and the spots where rusting barbed wire was stretched out of shape.

From the house, the old dog let out a sharp bark.

The gelding snorted and his ears pricked forward. Daegan looked up, squinting against a gust of wind and the grit that came with it. Corralled near the barn was Buckshot, a mean-spirited colt and his only possession on the ranch worth owning. But the horse wasn’t alone. Jon was in the paddock with the colt, trying to fling a rope around the animal’s neck. Daegan’s insides clenched.

Hell, what did he think he was doing?

He kicked his horse and the gelding responded.

The kid had balls of steel, Daegan would give him that. Who would have thought he’d trespass again after the scare Daegan had given him the other night?

“Idiot,” he ground out, though he felt a stupid sense of pride that the boy had disobeyed his mother and wandered over this way. “Come on,” he urged the horse.

Jon managed to swing the rope over Buckshot’s neck, and as the colt sidestepped, the foolhardy kid threw himself onto the horse’s back.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Daegan muttered under his breath as he pressed his knees into the gray’s sides. Was Jon trying to get himself killed? Daegan didn’t want to shout, for fear that he would startle the bronc.

But it was too late.

Buckshot exploded in a fury of flashing hooves and dust.

Astride the stubborn colt, without a bridle or a lead rope snapped onto the halter ring, just a little bit of baling twine wrapped around Buckshot’s thick neck, Jon grinned widely.
Fool of a kid!

The horse shot skyward, leaping and bucking and trying to throw the hundred and fifty unwanted pounds from his back. The dog ran back and forth on the far side of the fence.

“Damn it all to hell.” Just what he needed! Jon acting half-brained astride that devil of a colt. Daegan leaned forward and his mount galloped across the arid field, sending up a cloud of dust. Before his horse stopped, Daegan jumped off, vaulted the fence, and was running across the corral. “Hey, now, calm down,” he said as Buckshot lowered his head and kicked up his heels again. Jon, his face the color of skim milk, slid down Buckshot’s neck, but clung on. “For the love of Jesus—”

Daegan had learned respect for rodeo horses long ago. He had the scars and stiff joints to remind him just how dangerous a colt on a rampage could be. “Whoa, fella,” he commanded softly as he reached for Buckshot’s halter; but the horse reared high, kicking out his front legs. Steel-shod hooves sliced the air. Daegan lunged forward. Thud! Pain jolted up his arm. He sucked in his breath. “Hang on, Jon.”

The boy looked over at him for the first time, and his pale face bleached whiter for being caught in the act.

With an ear-piercing whistle, Buckshot bolted. Jon pitched forward.
“Nooo—”
he cried, but slammed into the dirt.
“Shiiit!”

Daegan’s stomach clenched. Every bone in the kid’s body had to have been jarred loose, especially his shoulder.

Daegan leaned down and Jon tried to scramble away. He winced. “Oh, crap.”

“Are you all right?”

“Does it
look
like I’m all right?” Jon said angrily, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

“It looks like you were a damned fool, playin’ around with that colt.”

“You said I could ride him!”

“With me around! Damn it, Jon, you could’ve been killed!”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” When Daegan tried to touch him, Jon jerked away. “Leave me alone.”

“Believe me, I will. I just want to see if anything’s broken.”

“I’m fine,” Jon shot back.

“Your ma know you’re here?”

He tried to lift his shoulder, then sucked in his breath.

“Let me take a look at—”

“It’s okay! Just leave me alone.” The boy’s eyes, though frightened, were bright with hot defiance.

“I don’t think I can do that. Seein’ as you’re on my place—”

“So sue me.”

“I just might,” Daegan said, ignoring the throb in his arm as he studied the boy and called his bluff. “Trespassing’s against the law—”

“You said I could come over and see Roscoe anytime—and besides, you had some of my stuff!” Belligerence, bluff, and bravado all emanated from the kid in hot waves.

“That’s why you’re here?”

“Yeah.”

“And the horse—”

Jon frowned and gnawed at his lower lip. “Mom won’t let me ride.”

“Why not?”

“She thinks it’s dangerous.”

“And you just made the mistake of proving her right. Come on, let’s have a look at what damage we’ve got here.”

“I’m okay.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I said I’m okay! This isn’t a big deal.” He struggled to his feet, biting back pain, his lips pale but his eyes once again dry. “I gotta go.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“I can make it on my own.”

Daegan glanced over to Buckshot, who stood, muscles quivering, at the far corner of the paddock.

Daegan thrust his chin in the direction of the mule-headed colt. “All you had to do was ask, y’know.”

“And you would’ve let me?” Clear blue eyes stared up at him. Penetrating eyes. Sullivan eyes.

“Alone? Hell, no!”

The lips tightened into a line Jon couldn’t suspect reminded Daegan of his unwanted relatives. “See?”

“Not without me supervising.” Slapping his hat on his thigh, Daegan straightened. “I would’ve started you off with something a little tamer—like old Loco, over there. After you handled him, okay, we would’ve switched to Buckshot.

“Now, come on, I think we’d better get you home.” He offered the boy his hand. It was ignored. “I asked before—your ma know you’re over here?”

Silence. Guilty, white-lipped silence.

“Didn’t think so. My guess is she doesn’t even know you’re gone.”

“How’d you know that?” Jon asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, as if he suspected that he was in the middle of some kind of conspiracy against him.

“She home?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

The kid had a chip the size of Nebraska on his shoulder, and Daegan nearly smiled. He reminded him of himself at that age. Then that cold, unfamiliar fear settled into his stomach. “It might be best if I take you in the truck. That way if your ma’s all bent out of shape and worried sick about you, she can get mad at me instead.”

Jon hesitated. “You’d take the heat?”

“Didn’t say that. Just said it would be diffused a little. Come on, now.”

“No way.” Breath whistling past his teeth, the boy stood, then the color drained from his face, and if Daegan hadn’t been there to catch him, he would have passed out completely.

“Great.” Daegan didn’t waste any time, just carried Jon to his truck and the kid had the good sense not to resist. He grumbled a little when Daegan started up the old Ford, but then was silent as he leaned against the passenger door and stared through the grimy windshield.

The lane was filled with potholes and the truck jostled and jolted. “You forgot your stash,” he said.

“Can’t keep it at the house anyway.” Jon scooted lower in his seat. “It’d be best if Ma didn’t know what it is.”

“Figured as much.”

“You aren’t gonna tell her, are you?”

“What? About the
Playboy
s and the booze? If I was going to say anything, I would have. I didn’t rat you out about sneaking over to my place, did I?”

“No,” Jon said suspiciously.

“And I’m not going to.”

Jon let out his breath in a rush, and Daegan realized he’d just climbed a huge hurdle toward gaining the kid’s trust. He set the emergency brake. “Your mom
is
home?” Daegan clarified over the frantic barking of the pup. What would he do if she wasn’t around? Take the kid to a clinic? Try and do a little first aid on the boy himself? From the looks of Jon’s scowl, that wasn’t going to happen.

“She’s here.”

Daegan parked his truck, letting it idle, and the kid shoved open the door and escaped. Daegan had no choice but to follow.

The screen door flew open, and Kate, in old jeans and a green sweater, rushed onto the porch. “Houndog, hush!” Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail that seemed to be falling apart, and her expression was confused, worried. “Jon? But I thought…” She glanced into the house as if her eyes had deceived her and he would appear in the doorway of the kitchen instead of in the front yard. Her eyes rested on Daegan for an uncomfortable instant before her gaze crashed full force on her son again. “What’s going on? Are you all right?”

“Fine,” the boy said, his eyes trained on Daegan, daring him to say anything.

“He was thrown from one of my horses.”

“One of your
horses?
” The corners of her mouth drew down and the wariness he’d witnessed the other day appeared in her eyes. “Jon?”

“I’m okay.”

“But you were supposed to be upstairs—I was in the kitchen—I didn’t hear you leave…” Again her eyes, the color of whiskey in the sunlight, pinned Daegan. “What was he doing on your horse?” There was a small, involuntary tightening of her muscles. “For that matter, why was Jon at your place?”

“I think he came over to look after the dog. You’ll have to ask him. I wasn’t at the house when he decided to see if he could tame Buckshot.”

“Buckshot?” Her eyebrows lifted a little. “Jon, what the devil’s going on here?”

“I snuck out.” He walked to the porch and leaned heavily against the rail. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. “So what?”

“So what?” She threw her hands to the heavens. “You’re already grounded because of the suspension last week and the fight and—” She cut herself off, glanced at Daegan again, and blew a few strands of sun-streaked hair from her eyes. “Look, before I go flying off the handle again, I guess I owe you an apology,” she said without much conviction. “I don’t know what he was doing at your place, but I’m sorry if he inconvenienced you. Thanks for rescuing him.”

“You might want to have his shoulder looked at. He landed pretty hard.”

“It’s fine!” Jon said.

“Maybe,” Daegan admitted. “Could just be bruised.”

“And he didn’t rescue me, okay?” Jon glared at his mother. His color was all wrong—the summer tan now a milky shade and his lips were bloodless. He was hurting, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Kate was having none of his martyrdom and show of false courage. “Let’s take a look.”

Eyes flashing defiantly, Jon gritted his teeth as she lifted his T-shirt and gingerly touched his skin. He sucked his breath in a hiss of pain as his back and stomach were exposed. Obviously embarrassed, Jon avoided Daegan’s eyes as his mother examined him. A dark scarlet blush climbed steadily up his neck to burn in his cheeks.

Kate frowned. “Already bruised.” Letting the T-shirt fall back, she said. “We’d better run to the clinic for a couple of X-rays. Get in the car, Jon. I’ll find my shoes and purse.”

“I don’t need X-rays,” Jon said vehemently. He scowled at Daegan as if he’d been betrayed.

“Better safe than sorry.”

“I’m okay, Mom.”

“What possessed you to go joy riding?” Turning to face Daegan, she folded her arms under her breasts. “Or was this your idea?”

“He didn’t know about it,” Jon admitted. “I was just lookin’ after Roscoe and I saw the horse and—”

“Oh, Lord, Jon, don’t you know any better? Let me grab my keys…”

“Geez, Mom, I’m not a baby!”

Her temper snapped. “Then quit acting like one. Don’t argue with me!”

“I’m not a little kid, all right?” An angry look crossed his young features, and Daegan gleaned that the war between mother and son ran deep. They might love each other, all right, but Kate was probably overprotective. The boy was trouble waiting to happen. A bad mix. Daegan knew it all too well.