chapter
8
PANIC SENT ADRENALINE coursing through Jessica’s body. She looked up at Dillon, sheer terror in her eyes. His eyes mirrored her fear. He circled Jessica’s waist with one strong arm, pulling her tight against him so that, briefly, they leaned into one another, comforting them both.
“Take a deep breath, Tara, we need to know what happened.” Dillon’s voice was calm and authoritative. He pulled the child into the circle of his arms, up against Jessica where she felt safe.
Tara gulped back her tears, buried her face against Jessica’s shoulder. “I don’t know what happened. One minute we were walking along and then Trevor said something weird, it didn’t make sense, something about a magic circle and he ran ahead of me. I heard him yell and then there was a huge noise. The side of a hill gave way, rocks and dirt and logs rolling down. His yell was cut off and when I got to where I thought he was, the air was all dirty and cloudy. I couldn’t find him and when I called and called, he didn’t answer me. I think he was buried under all of it. The dog started digging and barking and growling and I ran to get you.”
“Show me, Tara,” Dillon commanded. “Jessica, you’ll have to find the others, tell Paul we’ll need shovels just in case.” He was already pushing his daughter ahead of him.
They ran down the stairs, Dillon calling for the band members. As he jerked open the front door and raced across the front verandah, he nearly knocked Brian back down the front steps. They steadied one another. “It’s Trevor. It sounds bad, Brian, come with me,” Dillon said.
Brian nodded. “Where are the others?”
“Jess is rounding them up,” Dillon replied. Tara ran ahead of him, but he kept pace easily, swearing under his breath. Night was falling all too fast and it would be very dark in a matter of minutes. He prayed his daughter didn’t get lost, that she could lead them straight to his son.
Tara ran fast, keeping to the main path, her heart pounding loudly in her ears, but terror had subsided now that her father was taking command. He seemed so calm, so completely in control, that she felt her panic fading. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to find the exact location in the dark so she ran as fast as she could in an attempt to outrun the nightfall. It was even more of a relief when the large German shepherd came bounding out of the timberline to pace beside her. He knew the way to Trevor.
Jessica took several deep breaths as she hurried through the large house calling for the others. She found Brenda outside the kitchen, in the courtyard, smoking. “What is it now? I swear there’s no rest for the wicked around this place.”
“Where are the others?” Jessica demanded. Brenda’s chic hiking boots were covered in mud. Pine needles were stuck to the bottom and Brenda was trying to remove them without getting her fingernails dirty. “There’s been an accident and we need everyone to help.”
“Oh good heavens, it’s those kids again, isn’t it?” Brenda sounded annoyed. She backed up a step holding up a placating hand as Jessica advanced on her. “Really, darling, you wear me out with your agonizing over those children. See? I’m learning. Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll do my part to help, although I hope you send them both to their rooms and punish them suitably for disrupting my day.”
“Where are the others?” Jessica spit each word out distinctly. “This is an emergency, Brenda. I think Trevor is trapped under a landslide, under dirt and rocks. We need to dig him out fast.”
“Surely not!” Brenda’s hand fluttered to her throat and she paled visibly. Her throat worked as if she was struggling to speak but no words would come. When they did, it was a choked whisper. “This place really is cursed, or maybe just Dillon is.”
Jessica was surprised to see the woman was close to tears. “Brenda,” she said desperately. “Help me!”
“I’m sorry, of course.” Brenda straightened her shoulders. “I’ll find Robert, he’ll know what to do. Paul’s around back playing horseshoes, at least he was when I walked up. I think Don was going to the beach, but I’m not certain. You get Paul and I’ll find the others and send them to you. Which way did they go?”
“Thanks.” Jessica put a hand on Brenda’s arm, touching her to offer comfort. There was something very vulnerable on Brenda’s face when her mask slipped. “I think they took the main trail heading into the forest.”
“I just came back from that way,” Brenda frowned, “I didn’t see the kids.”
Jessica didn’t wait to hear any more; she raced around to the back of the house. Paul was idly tossing horseshoes. He paused in mid-swing when he spotted her. “What is it?” He tossed the horseshoe aside and hurried to her.
Feeling desperate, Jessica blurted out what she knew. Time seemed to be going by while she was getting nowhere. She wanted to race to Trevor, dig him out with her bare hands, not rely on the others.
“I’ll get the lights,” Paul told her, pulling open the door to a small shed. “There are shovels in here. I’ll meet you around in the front.” He was gone quickly.
Jessica pressed a hand to her churning stomach as she looked frantically through the potting shed for the shovels. All the larger tools were at the back of the shed. She felt sick, sick with fear for Trevor. How many minutes had gone by? Not many, her conversation with Brenda had taken only seconds, but it seemed an eternity. It was dark in the shed, the waning light insufficient to light the interior. She felt her way to the back, placing her hand on first a rake, a pry bar, and two sharper tools before she found the shovels. Triumphantly she caught up all three and rushed out of the small building.
Don was waiting impatiently for her. “Paul’s gone on ahead.” He grabbed the shovels from her, frowning as he did so. “What the hell did you do to your hand?”
Jessica blinked in surprise. Her palm was muddy and a single long slash in the center mingled blood with the dirt. A few stray pine needles stuck in the mixture as if it were artwork. “It doesn’t matter,” she muttered and hurried past him to take the trail.
Darkness had fallen in the forest, the heavier canopy blocking out what little light remained. Jessica ran fast, uncaring of her burning lungs. She had to get to Trevor and Tara. To Dillon. It couldn’t be that bad. She consoled herself with the thought that someone would have come for her if the news were the worst. She could hear Don running beside her, and was vaguely aware of her throbbing palm. She wiped it on her thigh as they spotted lights off to her left.
Tara threw herself at Jessica, nearly knocking her over. “He’s under all those big rocks and dirt. That big log fell on him, too! Dad’s been trying to dig him out with his bare hands and Robert’s been helping.”
“They’ll get him out quickly,” Jessica reassured, holding the little girl close, “the soil is soft enough for them to dig him out very fast.”
“Take her up there, out of the way,” Dillon directed. His gaze met Jessica’s over Tara’s head as he caught in midair the shovel that Don tossed to him. “It’s going to be okay, baby, I promise. He’s talking, so he’s alive and conscious. He’s got air to breathe, we just have to get him out to see the damage.”
Jessica nodded. Hugging Tara closer to her, she bent down to the child’s ear. “Let’s move out of the way, honey. We’ll go up there.” She pointed to a small embankment off to the side but up above where the men were frantically digging.
The dog nudged her legs as she walked and Jessica absently patted his head. “Are you all right, Tara?” The girl was trembling.
Tara shook her head. “I shouldn’t have insisted we keep looking. We found two trees we thought you and Dad might like, but I wanted to keep looking. Trevor said it was getting dark and wanted to go back to the house.” She rubbed her face against Jessica’s jacket. “I knew if I hadn’t been with him he would have kept looking. I hate that, the way he always treats me like I’m a baby.”
“Trevor looks out for you,” Jessica corrected gently. “That’s a good thing, Tara. He loves you very much. And this wasn’t your fault.” She stroked the girl’s hair soothingly. “It just happened. Sometimes things just happen.”
Tara shivered again. She looked up at Jessica, her eyes too large for her face. “I saw something,” she whispered softly and looked around quickly. “I saw a shadow back in the trees, over there,” she pointed toward the left in the deeper timber. “It looked like someone with a long cape and hood, very dark. I couldn’t see the face, but he was watching us; he watched it all happen. I know he was there, it wasn’t my imagination.”
If it was possible, Jessica’s heart began to pound even harder. “He was watching you while the rocks and dirt crumbled down on Trevor?” Jessica struggled to get the timing right. She believed Tara, she’d seen a cloaked figure in the woods the night they’d arrived, but she couldn’t imagine any of the band members not rushing to aid the twins. Whoever had been in that cloak really might want to cause harm to one of them. Could someone other than the band members be on the island? The groundskeeper was an older, kindly man. The island was large enough that someone could hide out, camping, but surely the dog would have alerted the children to a stranger’s presence. The twins had been spending time with the animal and she knew the German shepherd had guard instincts.
Tara nodded. “I yelled and yelled for help. I couldn’t see Trev, he was buried under everything and when I looked back, the person was gone.” She wiped her face, smearing dirt across her chin and cheek. “I’m telling the truth, Jessie.”
Jessica brushed the top of the girl’s head with a kiss. “I know you are, honey. I can’t imagine why whoever it was didn’t come to help you.” She was determined to find out, though. She had been lulled into a false sense of security, but if the cloaked figure was a band member, and it had to be, then one of them was behind the accidents and the death of her mother. Which one? “Stay here, honey, away from the edge.”
She couldn’t stand still, pacing back and forth restlessly, her fist jammed in her mouth to keep from screaming at them to hurry. Don and Robert pried a rather large rock loose and it took all of the men to move it carefully away from the site.
Brenda joined Tara a little hesitantly. “He’ll be all right, honey,” she offered, placing her hand on her niece’s shoulder in an attempt to offer comfort.
“He hasn’t moved,” Tara told her tearfully. “He hasn’t moved at all.”
“He’s breathing though,” Brenda encouraged. “Robert said Trevor told them he dove into a small space, a depression against the hillside.”
“He was talking? Dillon said he spoke, but I haven’t heard anything.” And Jessica wanted the reassurance of the sound of his voice. She continued to pace, rubbing her arms as she did so, shivering in the night air. “Are you certain he spoke?”
“I’m pretty sure,” Brenda answered.
Jessica stared up at the sky. She could hear the pounding of the sea in the distance. The wind rustling through the trees. The chink of the shovels against rock. Even the heavy breathing of the men as they worked. She could not hear Trevor’s voice. She listened. She prayed. There was not even a murmur.
“He’ll be all right,” Brenda tried again to be reassuring. She tapped her foot, drawing Jessica’s attention to the muddy ground strewn with pine needles and vegetation. A few fallen trees crisscrossed the area from the violent storm. Most had been there for some time but two smaller ones were fairly fresh.
She couldn’t help the terrible suspicion that slid into her mind. Another accident. Could it have been rigged? Almost without even being aware of it, she examined the ground, the position of the logs, searching for clues, searching for anything that might provide an answer for what had happened. There was nothing she could see, nothing that would make Dillon listen to her that something wasn’t quite right. Maybe she was paranoid, she didn’t know, only that she had to find a way to make the children safe.
“I won’t be able to take it if anything’s happened to him,” Jessica murmured to no one in particular. She meant it. Her heart was breaking. She was white-faced, sick to her stomach and moving to keep from being sick in front of everyone. “I shouldn’t have let him go off like that. I should have been with him.”
“Jessica, you couldn’t have prevented this,” Brenda said firmly. “They’ll get him out.” Awkwardly she hugged Tara to her as a muffled sob escaped the child. “Neither one of you could have stopped this. After a storm, sometimes the land is soft and it just shifts. You both would have been hurt had you been with him.”
Jessica crouched down, peering at the men as they frantically dug away the dirt and rocks to free Trevor. She could see his legs and part of one shoe. “Dillon?” Her voice wavered. Trevor wasn’t moving. “Why is he so still?” She could barely breathe, her lungs burning for air.
“Don’t go getting all sappy,” Trevor’s disembodied voice floated up to her. He sounded thin and reedy, but it was his usual cocky humor. “You’ll just be mad at me later if everyone sees you all teary-eyed.”
Jessica slowly attempted to stand, her body trembling with relief. Her legs felt rubbery, and for a moment she was afraid she might faint. Brenda shoved her head down, held her there until the earth stopped spinning so crazily. Robert came up on the other side of her, holding her arm as she swayed. Jessica bit down hard on her fist to keep from crying as she straightened. Tears glittered in her eyes, on her lashes. Her gaze met Dillon’s in complete understanding. For a moment there was no one else, just the two of them and the sheer relief only a parent could feel after such a frightening experience.
Tara hugged her, relief in the vivid blue of her eyes. Jessica barely registered it. She couldn’t remember ever being so shaky but she managed a tentative smile at Brenda and Robert. “Thanks for keeping me from landing on my face in the dirt.”
Brenda shrugged with her casual eloquence. “I can’t let anything happen to you. I’d be stuck with the kiddies.” She winked at Tara even as she went into her husband’s arms. She seemed to fit there, to belong.
Tara grinned back at her. “We grow on you.”
“No they don’t,” Jessica replied firmly, “they take years off your life. I think you have the right idea, Brenda, no kiddies or animals.” Her eyes remained on Trevor as they slowly freed him. He was stretching his legs cautiously. She could hear him talking with Dillon. His voice was still shaking, but he was holding his own, laughing softly at something his father said to him.
“Brenda, would you mind taking Tara back to the house? It’s already so dark. She should take a hot bath, and when I come in I’ll fix hot chocolate. She’s muddy and wet and shaking whether she knows it or not,” Jessica said.
“So are you,” Brenda pointed out with unexpected gentleness.
“I’ll be right in,” Jessica promised. She squeezed Tara’s hand. “Thank you for getting everyone here so quickly, honey, you were wonderful.”
“We’ll get her to the house safely,” Robert assured Jessica, and with an arm around Brenda and one around Tara, he started back toward the house.
Jessica had to touch Trevor, to make certain he had not suffered a single injury. She made her way down to the site and knelt beside Dillon next to Trevor. Dillon examined every inch of the boy, testing for broken bones, lacerations, even bruises. His hands were unbelievably gentle as he ran them over his son.
Trevor was filthy, but grinning at them. “It’s a good thing I’m skinny,” he quipped, patting Jessica’s shoulder, knowing if he hugged her she’d burst into tears in front of everyone and then he’d really be in trouble.
“He’s fine, a few bumps and bruises. Tomorrow he’s going to be sore,” Dillon announced to the others. “Thank you all for helping.” He sat back, wiped his hand across his forehead, leaving behind a smear of dirt. His hand was trembling. “You took a couple of years off my life, son. I can’t afford it.”
Paul gathered up the shovels. “None of us can afford it.”
“Don’t feel alone,” Trevor said, “It felt like the entire hillside came down on top of me. For a few minutes there, all I could think about was being buried alive. Not a pleasant thought.”
Jessica stepped back to allow Paul room. Dillon and Paul lifted Trevor to his feet. The boy swayed slightly but stood upright, his familiar grin on his face. “Jess, I’m really okay, you know?”
Dillon watched her face crumble, her composure gone as she circled Trevor’s neck with her slender arms and hugged him fiercely, protectively, to her. There was no awkwardness in the boy’s manner as he tightened his arms around her and buried his face on her shoulder. They were easy, natural, loving with one another. Dillon felt a burning in his chest, behind his eyes, as he watched them. A terrible longing welled up, nearly blindsided him. The layers of insulation were being stripped away, exposing his heart, so that he was raw and vulnerable.
Part of him wanted to lash out at them like a wounded animal. Part of him wanted to embrace them, to hold them safely to him. Safe. The word shimmered bitterly in his mind. He tasted bitterness in his mouth. For a heartbeat of time he stared at them, his heart pounding, adrenaline surging. His blue eyes glittered with the violence that always seemed to be swirling just below the surface.
Before Dillon could turn away from them, Jessica lifted her head, her gaze colliding with his. At once he was lost in the joy on her face. Her smile was radiant, like a burst of sunshine. She held out her hand to him. An invitation to a place he couldn’t go. He stared down at her hand. Delicate. Small. A bridge back to living.
He didn’t move. Dillon later swore to himself he hadn’t moved, but there he was, taking her hand in his. His gloves were filthy but she didn’t seem to notice, her fingers tightening around his. Touching her, he was lost in her spell, a web of enchantment, losing all touch with reality, with sanity. He found himself drawn up against the soft invitation of her body. Her head nuzzled his chest, her silky hair catching in the shadow along his jaw.
Without thought, without hesitation, his hand circled her vulnerable throat, tipping her head back. Her green eyes were large, haunting, cloudy with emotion. He swore softly, a surrender, a defeat, as he bent his dark head to hers. Her mouth was perfection, velvet soft, yielding, hot and moist and filled with tenderness. With the taste of love. The smoldering ember buried deep in his gut flared to life, flooded his system with such craving he fed on her, devoured her, swept away by the addicting taste of her. By the rich promise of passion, of laughter, of life itself.
She found a way past his every barricade, past his every defense. She wrapped herself around his heart, his soul, until he couldn’t breathe without her. The loneliness that had consumed him for so long, and the bleak endless existence, vanished when she was near him. Need slammed into his body, hard and urgent, a demand that threatened to steal his control. The sheer force of their chemistry alarmed him. His body trembled, his mouth hardened, his tongue thrusting and probing, a hot mating dance his body desperately needed to perform.
Trevor cleared his throat loudly, dragging Dillon back to reality. Startled, he lifted his head and blinked, slowly coming back into his own scarred body and soul.
Trevor grinned up at him. “Don’t look so shell-shocked, Dad, it’s kind of embarrassing when I had this image of you all suave with the ladies.”
“Suave isn’t the word for it,” Don muttered acidly under his breath.
Dillon heard him and turned the weight of his stare in Don’s direction. The others attacked from all directions, diverting him.
“Boyo,” Brian let out his breath in a slow whistle. “What the hell was that?”
“I’d like to see that on rewind,” Paul said, nudging Dillon with his elbow. “A little vicarious experience goes a long way around here.”
Jessica hid her scarlet face against Dillon’s shoulder. “All of you go away.”
“We don’t dare, Jessie girl, no telling what you might do to our beloved leader,” Brian teased. “We want the boyo suffering angst and melancholy. Haven’t you heard that makes for the best songs?”
“Frustration’s good for that, too,” Paul chimed in.
Jessica reached up to frame Dillon’s face with her hand. “I don’t think it matters what state he’s in,” she objected, “he manages to compose beautiful music.”
Dillon caught her hand and turned up her palm, his eyes narrowing. “What the hell did you do to your hand? It’s bleeding.”
He sounded so accusatory Jessica couldn’t help smiling. “I was feeling around in the tool shed for the shovels and cut my hand on something sharp.” Now that he’d pointed it out, the wound was beginning to burn.
“We have to wash that. I don’t want you picking up an infection.” Dillon indicated the path, retaining possession of Jessica’s hand. “Are you steady enough to walk back, Trevor?”
Trevor nodded, hiding his smile as he turned onto the trail, following Paul closely. Don and Brian gathered up the lights. Dillon brought Jessica’s hand up for another, much closer inspection. “I don’t like the look of this, honey—you clean it the moment you get to the house.” He was fighting to breathe, to stay sane. What the hell was he doing? He raked a hand through his hair, breathing hard, feeling as if he’d run miles. Emotions were crowding in so fast, so overwhelming he couldn’t sort them out.
Jessica couldn’t suppress the small surge of joy rushing through her. Dillon sounded so worried about such a trivial cut. They walked close together, his hand holding hers. Above their heads the stars tried valiantly to shine for them despite the gray clouds stretching out into thin veils covering the tiny lights.
Dillon deliberately slowed his pace to allow the others to get ahead of them. “I’m sorry, Jess, I shouldn’t have kissed you like that in front of the others.”
“Because they’re going to tease us? They’ve already been doing that,” she pointed out. She tilted her chin at him, a clear challenge to deny what was between them.
He sighed. “Because I wanted to tear your clothes off and take you right there, right then. I think I made it damned obvious to the band. You aren’t some groupie and I don’t want them looking at you that way—to ever see you in that light. You always think the best of everyone. Has it occurred to you, that their seeing me kissing you like that, they might consider you fair game?”
Jessica shrugged her shoulders, feigning a casualness she didn’t feel. A heat wave spread through her body at his words. The thought of Dillon so out of control left her breathless. She managed to keep her voice even. “I doubt that I’ll faint if one of them makes an attempt. This might shock you, Dillon, but other men have actually found me attractive and some of them have even asked me out. Believe it or not, you’re not the only man who has ever kissed me.” She felt him stiffen, felt the sudden tension in him.
A hint of danger crept into the deep blue of his eyes. “I don’t think now is the best time to talk to me about other men, Jess.” His voice was rougher than she’d ever heard it, that smoky, edgy tone very much in evidence. He halted abruptly, dragging her into the deeper shelter of the trees. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? Any idea at all?” He pulled her uninjured hand between his legs, rubbed her palm along the front of his jeans where the material was stretched taut, where he was thick and hard and she could feel heat right through the fabric. “I haven’t been with a woman in a very long time, honey, and if you keep this up, you’re going to get a hell of a lot more than you bargained for. I’m not some teenager looking for a quick feel. You keep looking at me the way you’ve been doing and I’m going to take you up on the invitation.”
For one moment Jessica thought about slapping his handsome face, outraged that he would try to reduce her to a teen with a crush. That he would try to frighten her, or that he would think that he ever could frighten her. If there was one man on earth she trusted implicitly with her body, it was Dillon Wentworth. It took a heartbeat to realize he had captured her uninjured palm, that he was still cradling her wounded hand against his chest. Carefully. Tenderly. The pad of his thumb was rubbing gently along the edge of her hand and he wasn’t even aware of it. But she was.
Deliberately provocative, she rubbed the stretched material at the front of his jeans. “You aren’t very well suited to the roll of big bad wolf, Dillon, but if it’s some fantasy you have, I guess I can play along.” Her tone was seductive, an invitation. Her fingers danced and teased, stroking and caressing, feeling him respond, thicken more, harden more.
His eyes glittered down at her like two burning gemstones. “You don’t have a clue about fantasies, Jessie.”
“You’re in the wrong century, Dillon.” Her tongue slid provocatively along her lush bottom lip and, damn her, she was laughing at him. “I certainly wouldn’t mind unzipping your jeans and wrapping my hand around you, feeling you, watching you grow even harder. And I did consider not wearing my bra so that the next time you kissed me and started working your way along my throat, you would feel my body is ready for you. The thought of your mouth on . . .”
“Damn it.” A little desperately he bent his head and stopped her nonsense the only way he could think of. He took possession of her mouth and instantly was lost in her answering hunger. She was too sexy, too hot, too everything. Magic. Jessica was sheer magic. He caught her shoulders and resolutely set her away from him before he lost his mind completely.
She smiled up at him. “Are you ever going to kiss me without swearing first?”
“Are you ever going to learn self-preservation?” he countered.
“I don’t have to learn,” Jessica pointed out, “you watch out for me very nicely.”