Calder Pride (Calder Saga 5)

“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 shoo tin’ 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 the sensation of his hands, his body.

“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.”

Lath sidled toward the door, some of his cockiness returning. “I’ll remember that. And I’ll remember you, old man,” he added softly.

To her relief, Culley followed him out of the kitchen all the way to the front door. When she heard it close, Cat sagged onto a kitchen chair, her stomach rolling. She almost laughed when she saw the paring knife in her hand. But it was a sob that came out.

A floorboard squeaked, the only warning she had that Culley was returning. Cat struggled to pull herself together, not wanting him to see how horribly unnerved she was. Looking up, she saw him watching her with worried eyes.

“Your timing couldn’t have been better.” She managed a wan smile.

“I saw him snooping around outside. When he slipped in the house, I didn’t figure he was up to any good.” Culley paused. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

“My shoulder’s a little sore, that’s all.” A commercial came on the radio. Irritated by it, Cat got up and turned off the radio. The action made her aware of the bra riding up above her breasts. With her back to Culley, she reached under her T-shirt and pulled it down.

“You don’t look all right.”

“I’m fine, really,” Cat insisted again, then admitted, “I’m just a little shook up. He frightened me.” She rubbed her hands over her arms, still fighting that crawly, dirty sensation.

“You want me to call Logan?”

“No!” The answer was explosively quick and definite.

“You aren’t figurin’ on tellin’ him, are you?”

“What would be the point? There’s nothing he can do,” Cat argued. “Anyway, it’s over. Nothing happened.”

“Just the same, he should know about it.”