Page 52 of Passion's Wicked Torment

Brady felt called upon to defend his lady’s honor. Summoning all his courage, he swung at Hunter, hitting him in the jaw. Hunter looked at him, but instead of being angry, he was merely irritated by his presence. He went to the door and opened it. He then jerked his head toward the exit, commanding Brady to leave.

“Oh, Dallas, what a party pooper you are!” laughed Kristin in a strangely wild, manic voice. “You’re no fun at all.” She glanced at Brady and sighed. “You’d better go, Craig. I’m afraid he’ll throw you out the window if you don’t.”

That was enough for the writer. “Well, if you’re sure you’ll be all right,” he said quickly, hurrying to the open door. “So long as you insist.” Once through the door, he turned to face Kristin. But just as he started to say something further that might help redeem him, Hunter slammed the door in his face. It was just as well; footsteps had been hurrying up the stairs. Hunter bolted the door and turned back to Kristin.

“Party pooper,” she said again. She laughed at him. Then she went up to him and ran her finger teasingly along the line of his square jaw. “Want to make love to me, Mr. Party Pooper? Is that why you came? Well, if you say pretty please—”

He slapped her stingingly, making her head snap to the side. She did not immediately turn it back to him. She shut her eyes. Then she opened them, though, and looked at him again. She was smiling that wild, frantic, partly drunk smile, laughing at him, making fun of his serious expression. “Aw, poor Dallas Hunter had his feelings hurt. Maybe I’ll go find me some new man who’s more fun. A whole bunch of them! I’ll just—”

He slapped her again.

“What are you doing?!” she cried out, holding her hand to her cheek. She tried to back away from him, but he grasped her arm and held her.

He stared at her, saying nothing. He had not said a single word to Kristin, but his feelings were clear. His eyes asked, Are you finished playing games now, or shall we continue?

She refused to be cowed by him. She refused to stop behaving the way she had behaved ever since Chad had died. She made herself smile tauntingly at him again, and then she began to speak. But he did not even let her get a word out. He slapped her once more.

This time tears sprang to her eyes, and she was forced to cry out, “Stop it!” And then suddenly, all the manic laughter and wild teasing were gone from her.

“Come to your senses,” Hunter said finally. “Enough is enough.”

“I ... I don’t know what you mean!” Kristin challenged.

He glared at her, assessing her. Then he plunged ahead. “Your brother is dead. Face it.” She tried to turn her head away, but he clutched her chin and made her look at him. “Face it! You’ve been trying to hide from it for months, trying to kill yourself to get away from having to face it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she protested desperately. “I have faced it! I have accepted it!”

“You’ve done nothing but run from it ever since it happened. You’re a coward, Kristin. And you’re ruining your life for nothing. It won’t bring him back. Killing yourself won’t help Chad.”

“Stop it!” she screamed. “Don’t talk about him!” “Chad! Chad Fleming, your brother! He’s dead! And your killing yourself this way isn’t going to bring him back!”

“I’ll kill you, damn you. I’ll kill you!” She started scratching wildly at him, but he held her wrists. His face was granite, his eyes flaring.

“Show a little courage,” he said, his voice contemptuous. It was the contempt that made her listen, that made her really listen, not just pretend to hear what he said. If he had been soft and sympathetic and oozing love and concern for her, as McShane had done, she would not have listened. She would have dismissed him as scornfully as she had dismissed McShane, who had not known what she truly wanted, what she truly needed. But Hunter was not gentle or full of sympathy as he glared at her now. He was rough and commanding. He knew exactly what she needed.

“You little coward. It’s about time you realized that the world isn’t your personal servant, ready to let you have your way, no matter whät you want. It’s time you stopped wallowing in self-pity. As if you’re the first girl who ever lost someone she loved. It’s happened before. It’ll happen again.”

“Not to me! It’s never happened to me! Not like this! You killed him. You murdered my brother!” She screamed this at him, almost spitting in his face, venting her rage over it for the first time.

He was not angered by her accusation. “That’s right. I killed him. To save you. But if I’d known he was giving up his life to save a cowardly little wisp of a weakling, I might not have done it.”

The way he spat out these words struck a chord in Kristin, bringing her up short for a moment. And despite herself, she protested, “I’m not a cowardly little wisp of anything.”

“You didn’t used to be. But look at yourself now. Weak. Scared. You’re a disgrace. Running from life . . . running from your own shadow. Afraid to face reality because it’s painful. Who said it wasn’t painful! You’re a weak, sniveling—”

“I’m not!”

“What’s the matter, babe? Can’t you take it?” He was taunting her.

“I can take anything you can dish out, mister!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“You think so, coward?”

“Listen, you bastard! You son of a bitch!” Kristin was screaming at him now. Hunter released her wrists and let her slap him hard. Fire was in her eyes for the first time in two months. “You take that!” she screamed.

He grasped her and bent her backward over his arm, clutching her to him. “And you take this.” He kissed her searingly on the mouth. She felt herself responding. Her whole body responded. It was the first swooning sting of real pleasure she had had in two months, and it startled her. She forgot what it was like to have something that could give her pleasure. She had forgotten that there was anything in the world worth having—and that she was worthy of having it.

She became languid in Hunter’s arms, and the fog of anger and self-hatred that had shrouded her mind, making it impossible for her to think or feel, seemed to lift.

Hunter sensed the change. His lips and his arms were like antennas receiving a psychic message. He raised his head and looked at her. His eyes had a gentleness now.

The hardness and disdain were gone; they had served their purpose.

When Kristin spoke, there was a genuineness that had been lacking for months in her voice. The biting, cynical, self-hating edge seemed to have vanished. “Dallas,” she said softly, almost choking on the words, “he was my brother.”

Now, for the first time, Hunter let the sympathy and understanding he felt show through. “I know, babe. But your period of grieving is over. It’s time to rejoin the living. Don’t you think Chad would have wanted it that way?”

She was on the verge of tears. She tried to hold them back.

“He wouldn’t have wanted you to ruin your life like this over his death. You know that.”

“No,” she said in a high, shaky voice. She shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t.” And then suddenly, the tears burst from her in a torrent, streaming hotly down her cheeks. “Oh, Dallas!”

He held her tightly. “I know, babe. I know.” His words were tender. He held her slender body as she shuddered and quaked, pouring out her tears, her head against his shoulder. He stroked her hair. This was the first time since Chad’s death that she had cried. It was the first time that she had let out the torment and agony she had kept locked deep inside, which had turned to poison within her. McShane had not been able to reach her, to help her. No one else had either, until now.

Hunter said to her as she continued crying against his shoulder, “It’ll be all right now, babe. You’ll be all right.”

There was a banging on the door, but they both ignored it. Kristin could not stop crying. It felt so good to be in his arms again, so warm and comforting. She needed to have him hold her tightly and

stroke her hair. That had always been a special thing between them, the way he stroked her hair. Kristin knew that he had just saved her life. He was right. She had been slowly, deliberately killing herself, because she had been unable to face Chad’s death.

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