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Cat made the mistake of glancing at her wedding ring. In a flash, his hand
snaked out and plucked the potato from her gasp as easily as he had snatched
the fly moments ago. Grinning, Lath tossed the potato in the air a couple
times, then took a crunching bite out of the peeled end.
"I always did like raw potatoes," he said between chews. "Course, they're
better with some salt on 'em."
Not trusting him, Cat retreated a step, moving sideways along the sink
counter. "Get out of here, Lath." She held the knife in a low, threatening
position, her fingers tightly circled around it.
"If I don't, you ain't thinkin' about cuttin' me with that puny little knife,
are you? 'Cause if you are, I'll tell you right now that ain't the way you
hold a knife in a fight."
"Just get out." This time she kept her eyes on him and ignored the gesturing
flick of his hand.
"You aren't scared of me, are ya, little kitty-Cat." Grinning cockily, Lath
moved another step closer.
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Cat retreated again, then sensed the closeness of the corner area and stopped.
His grin lengthened as he began tossing the potato again.
Cat had the eerie feeling he was only toying with her. "Feeling trapped, are
you?"
"Stay away from me," she warned.
"Catch." Lath flipped the potato at her face.
Instinctively she blinked and pulled back from it. In that split second, his
fingers closed around the wrist of her knife hand. Before she could strike
out, he twisted her arm behind her back, turning her and slamming her against
the counter, bending her forward over it and pinning her there with his hips.
Cat tried to kick back at him and banged her knees into the cupboards. With
her free hand, she groped the air behind her, trying to grab him. But he was
out of reach.
Chuckling, he increased the pressure of his hips, wanting her to feel the hard
outline of his erection. "Kinda hard to fight somebody when they're behind ya,
ain't it?"
"Damn you, let me go!" She fought the terror that clogged her throat, a terror
that came from discovering she was utterly helpless.
"Better quit that squirming. You're getting me all excited."
Cat froze, terror striking deep, but the instant he started grinding his hips
against her in a suggestive way, she grabbed at the edge of the cupboard above
her head and pushed with all her strength, straining to get the needed
leverage to throw him back. He simply jerked her imprisoned arm higher,
drawing a pained cry from her.
He kept up the pressure until her fingers released their grip on the cupboard
and fell back to the counter. Even after he eased off, her shoulder continued
to throb from the wrenching. She hunched from it, battling tears.
Her reprieve was short-lived as his hand slid under her T-shirt and wormed its
way around to her breasts, pushing up her bra to release them. When she tried
to grab at his hand, he simply twisted her arm again.
"Oh, baby, you got a great set of jugs," Lath murmured, fondling them roughly.
Revulsion rose like bile in her throat. "I'll bet Echohawk loves wallowin' in
'em at night."
"You'll go to prison for this." Cat all but spat the words.
"I could," he agreed in a smiling voice and rubbed himself against her. "But
only if you talk. And you ain't the kind that would tell. As proud as you are,
you'd die of shame before you'd get up on a stand and say all the things I
did-especially when I get up there and tell them how you teased me, showin' me
your breasts and flauntin' your body, sayin' that you wanted a little brother
to go with your other bastard baby. It'd be too humiliatin' for a Calder,
wouldn't it?"
Cat was all too afraid he was right, that a trial would be more degrading than
her pride could stand. When she felt his fingers tugging at the snap of her
jeans, she vowed he would not take her without a fight.
As she began to gather herself for it, the distinctive double click of a
lever-action rifle sounded above the radio music.
"Let her go now," came the low-growled threat.
At the first sound, Lath had wheeled off of her, his grip on her wrist
loosening enough that with a quick jerk, Cat was free of it. Both feet were
once more on the floor On shaky legs she staggered backward, clutching at the
counter. But Lath only had eyes for the old man holding the cocked rifle on
him.
"Get away from him, Cat," Culley ordered.
"Don't go doin' somethin' stupid, O'Rourke." Lath held up a cautioning hand.
"You'd be shootin' an unarmed man. That's murder one."
"But you'd be dead, and that would suit me just fine." Culley's finger
caressed the trigger.
"But think of the mess she'd have to clean up."
"Let him go, Culley." Cat gripped the side of the refrigerator, unable to look
at Lath, her skin still crawling from sensation of his hands, his body.
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"After what he done to you-"
"He didn't do anything," she insisted, fighting the feeling that she had been
violated just the same.
"Now, you listen to the little lady," Lath urged, his eyes cool and watchful.
"You were fixin' to, weren't ya?" Culley said in an ugly snarl.
"But he didn't," Cat repeated, angry now. "Let him go. I just want him out of
here. Now."
A long second dragged by. "All right, you heard her-git," Culley ordered. "And
if you come 'round here again, I won't be listening to her. I'll be shooting
on sight." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]