Page 74 of Whispers

Tessa cried out.

“That was for the slap.” She trembled, and he loved the feeling of power it gave him, the feeling that he could control her, use her as his personal slave. “Now, you’re going to do exactly what I want, bitch, and you’re not going to stop until I say it’s time. Get down on your knees.”

He shoved her to the ground and held the knife up as if he could throw it at any second. “Now, beautiful, unzip my pants.”

“No—”

He grabbed a handful of her hair and sliced it off.

“Ahhh!”

Yellow strands fell to the ground. “Now. Unzip my pants and go down on me like a good little girl.”

“Go find Miranda. She’s the one you want,” she said bravely though her eyes were round with fear, her lips trembling.

“She’s busy.”

“What do you care? You like making it with more than one girl at a time.”

“She’ll have her turn.”

Suddenly she leapt upward and swung at him, her fingernails raking down his cheek.

“Shit!” His entire face stung. He shoved her back to the ground. “No more games, bitch,” he said, as blood dripped to his shoulder. “Open my pants and—”

“I loathe you.”

“Do you? Too bad. Now, you’ve got no choice and if you so much as touch me with your teeth . . . I’ll retaliate.”

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“No you won’t,” she said, with sudden insight as she stood in front of him. “You’re not going to kill me, or even wound me,” she said, “because you’d get caught. Even without a trace of evidence my father would hunt you down like a dog. People have seen us together and now—” she wiggled her fingers with their dirtied, bloodied nails in front of his eyes, “—there’ll be traces of your blood on my hands.”

His heart stopped for a second.

Tessa’s smile was pure evil. “If you make me do anything I don’t want to do, and I mean anything, I’ll tell my father and swear out a complaint at the police department. You’ll be arrested for . . . for trespassing, and . . . and assault and statutory rape.”

He didn’t believe her. “You wouldn’t—”

“You bastard, I’d kill you before I ever let you touch me again.”

He reached forward and she slapped his hand away. “You’ll go to jail, Weston. My father will see to it.” She looked at him with her jaw set and anger burning in her eyes. Her skin was smudged with dirt, her blouse torn, and she stared at him as if she’d like nothing better than to shred him to ribbons with her bare hands.

“Jesus, you wouldn’t.”

“Watch me,” she warned, her eyes glinting like those of a wounded animal. Weston remembered a possum he’d trapped and how the beast had snarled, showing off razor-sharp teeth before Weston put him out of his misery.

“Leave,” she ordered. She wasn’t joking.

Every muscle in his body screamed to lunge at her, to throw her on the ground and tear off her clothes, but he wasn’t stupid enough to make that kind of a mistake. Not now. She was, whether he liked it or not, jailbait.

Later, he told himself, he’d deal with her later. “When it was safer, and she didn’t have the upper hand. He clicked the knife shut and climbed into his car. In a squeal of wheels, he roared off, bouncing onto the old rutted road that led to this stretch of nowhere. He saw Tessa in his rearview mirror, her back rigid with pride, her torn clothes worn like a goddamned badge of honor.

His hands were sweaty on the wheel as he rounded the corner and shifted into second. His blood pounded in his veins, throbbing at his temples. If that little bitch thought she’d somehow gotten the upper hand, she was wrong. Dead wrong.

“I’m telling you, son, I’m counting on you.” Neal poked a thick finger in Weston’s direction as the ancient air conditioner in Weston’s office at the sawmill rattled in the vents overhead. “Someone’s got to talk some sense into your brother. No one, and I mean no one in this family, is going to hook up with a Holland! Jesus H. Christ, doesn’t that boy see that she’s only after his inheritance?” Pacing from one end of Weston’s office to the other, he dabbed at his balding pate with a handkerchief. His ruddy face was more florid than usual, his nostrils flared in indignation, his gold tooth glinting as he talked. Sweat stood in small droplets on his forehead and stained his sleeves. “What the hell happened to your face?”

Weston managed a smile, though the thought of Tessa’s fingernails made him see red. “A local whore and I got into a disagreement.” Not exactly a lie.