Page 62 of Legacy of Danger
"Hi, Doc," Linc sneered. "Long time no see."
Her spine went ramrod straight.
What the hell? When had Mariah seen him before?
Christ, everything about this place screamedwrong. Even the air felt heavy, sour.
Vaughn's power begged him to stand between her and Linc. But even though the guns weren't actively aimed at them, he didn't want to do anything to endanger Mariah.
She clutched the bag and squared her shoulders. "Well," her voice cracked, "I should take a look at Mrs. Brand, and then we can be going."
"Right this way," Linc announced.
She took stiff steps into the house.
Linc leered at her backside as she walked past him.
Vaughn almost lost his mind. Permanently. He wanted to tackle the guy. The only thing that stopped him was the threat of Wyatt and Tommy's shotguns. He took a step toward the house.
"Stay right there, Taggart." Wyatt spat another glob onto the ground. "Linc will take good care of her."
Crossing his arms, Vaughn leaned against his truck. "So, he's your cousin?"
"Well, second cousin. From Laramie. In town for the big fight coming up." The barking laugh had the same effect as salt on Vaughn's raw nerves. "It's not too late for you to back out. Linc put his last two opponents in the hospital. I think one guy is still drinking through a straw." A sniff. "Such a shame, your face being so pretty to begin with and all."
"We'll see." He monitored the house, every sense straining for some clue as to how Mariah was doing. Was Linc being a jerk? Stupid question.
Hurry.
Time crawled as the snow fell more heavily. In the silence, he could hear the tinyblapof snowflakes on his leather jacket. His stomach growled. Damn it, in times like this, he sure did want something strong to drink with zero nutritional value and a hell of a kick to it.
Idle time took chunks out of his soul.
He propped a boot heel against the front bumper of his truck in an effort to act casual while Tommy and Wyatt hovered. The tingle in his mind remained at a low level. Not a three-alarm power eruption. Yet.
Somehow, he'd know if Mariah were in immediate danger. He hoped.
While he waited, he memorized the visible layout of the ranch and the hills behind the house, with flat fields on one side and thick forest stopping at the outbuildings on the other. The house was made up of a main structure where several additions appeared to have been tacked on in a series of drunken afterthoughts. Near a large, metal Quonset hut outbuilding sat three rusting vehicles on blocks and large equipment partially hidden under large tarps. Kerr had mentioned that the Brands were doing some mining. This likely confirmed the activity.
Every few minutes, Wyatt snickered.
"What's so funny, Brand?"
"Lady doctor doesn't know that it's dangerous to hang out with a Taggart." The idiot's eye twitched.
"All right, I'll bite. What the hell are you talking about?"
"Well. Garrison's girlfriend got hurt after she started seeing him. And that other pretty boy got messed up good and proper after dating Shelby. Coincidental. Don't you think?"
Like a spark hitting a hissing Bunsen burner, his power shot to full flame. Wyatt backed up a step. Good. "You wanna go on record? You taking credit for something?"
"Now why would I do that? Everyone knows I'm innocent. So says my brother."
"Sheriff Tommy?"
The asshole in question tipped an invisible hat and tapped the butt of his gun on the warped wood of the front porch. A scarred eyebrow rose. Just like old times.
"Convenient, isn't it?" Wyatt grinned, his face shadowed with the house lights behind him.
