The Girl with the Golden Gun. Ann Major
after what she wanted. Nothing had ever been handed to him, either.
She put her hand to her cheek. “My skin burns where you…”
It was the damnedest, most unaccountable thing, but his lips burned from the chaste kiss he’d given her.
One taste of her sweet, velvet skin had rocked him. She was innocent but willing and utterly, utterly adorable.
He wished he was ten years younger so he could crush her close and not feel like he was Satan’s spawn.
He couldn’t stand another second of this, so he stomped out of the house and stood on his porch and watched it rain.
She raced after him.
“Now you really have to go,” he said roughly. “You promised.”
She shook her head. “That was only if you kissed me on the mouth.” Her voice fell so softly, he had to strain to hear it over the downpour.
Being protective of a Kemble was not a role he felt comfortable with. Not when she was so all-fired beautiful.
“Mia—”
When he turned and saw her backlighted by the porch lamp, he had to remind himself again she was jailbait. Standing there in her wet dress with her big eyes fastened on his mouth, she personified fresh, young sensuality and femininity.
“Go,” he said.
“How come you still wear that turkey feather I gave you in the brim of your hat?”
“That doesn’t mean anything, girl.”
His heart thudded. Inside his jeans, he was hard and swollen.
He wanted her. Even though it was wrong.
Before she could answer him, headlights flashed, and he heard a car down the road.
“Go to the kitchen. Don’t make a sound. If anybody finds you here, I could end up in jail. Do you understand how serious this is?”
For once she obeyed, and he shut the door behind her. Scarcely had she hidden herself, than his own father stormed up to the porch.
As usual he was drunk. His thick florid face was set in a mask of hatred as he stumbled up the steps. “I—I lost the ranch tonight…or what’s left of it…to Caesar Kemble. Because of you.”
Shanghai sank to his knees and fisted his hands. If someone had slammed a shovel against his spine, he couldn’t have felt more broken.
“It’s your fault.”
“Right,” Shanghai whispered. “Blame somebody else like you always do.”
His father weaved drunkenly. “You had to go over there and stir him up. He came looking for me just like you knew he would. And you just sat here and let him lure me into a game of cards. Entice me with the finest liquor. When it was over and he’d won Black Oaks, he told me you went to his house and strutted around like a bantam cock, like you thought you were somebody, like you thought you were as good as him.”
“I am as good as him.”
“You’re a loser, born to a loser, who’s sprung from a long line of losers.”
“I’ll drive you home and put you to bed, Daddy.”
“Don’t act so damned superior.”
“It would’ve happened anyway!”
“The hell it would! You’ve got high-and-mighty airs, but you’re no better than me. Caesar said it was time all of us Knights got what we deserved—nothing! But that’s not the only reason I came over. Kinky called him and said Mia’s run off again. Caesar said she was upset because he hit you, and they think she might’ve come over here. I don’t reckon you know where—”
Shanghai shook his head just as a pot crashed in the kitchen inside the cabin.
“Who the hell’s in there with you then?”
“Nobody.”
“You lyin’ son-of-a skunk! Caesar’s on his way over here, you fool!”
His father rushed past him, whipped the screen door open and stormed through the house.
Mia screamed from his bedroom. When Shanghai ran inside, his father was dragging her out from under the bed by the hair.
“Let go of her,” Shanghai yelled, shoving him in the back.
“It’s not what you think, Mr. Knight,” Mia began. “He didn’t do anything. It was me. All my fault. He told me to go, but I—”
“I got eyes in my head. He’s bare-chested and you’re wearing his shirt. You were in his bed.”
“Under his bed. I told you. I came over here on my own,” she said.
“How long has this been going on?” his father yelled.
“Nothing’s going on,” Shanghai said.
“She’s here, in your bedroom. It’s the middle of the night. She’s underage. You’ve got a wild reputation and you’re madder than hell at her father. And you’re trying to tell me that you didn’t touch—”
“What do you care? You’re the one who gambled the ranch away!”
His father lunged at him. “That was your fault and you know it! You set me up tonight! Laid a trap. I should’ve seen it coming. You’ve been a wild ’un since the day you was born.”
“Wonder where I get it?”
“Not from me! ’Cause you’re not mine, boy! The only reason your scheming mother married me was to get a daddy for her no-good bastard.”
“You’re lying!”
His father lunged. Together they crashed onto the floor. When Mia leaned down to try to pull them apart, his father slugged her.
Unconscious, she slumped like a limp rag doll to the floor.
Instantly Shanghai forgot his father and dropped to his knees beside her. Smoothing her hair from her face, he touched her throat.
“I didn’t mean to hit her,” his father gasped, all the meanness going out of him at the realization he’d hit Caesar’s daughter. “I meant to knock some sense into you. Not that that’s possible.”
“I think she’s okay.”
Shanghai picked her up in his arms and laid her on his bed. As he held her wrist and found her pulse, which was strong and steady, he saw headlights on the road outside.
Shanghai glanced up at his father and felt an utter coldness. “Somebody’s coming. Go see who it is. I’ll stay with her.”
Her eyes flickered open, and she smiled at Shanghai. “This is where I’ve always wanted to be—in your arms.”
“You’re gonna be okay,” he whispered, stroking her brow.
“It’s Caesar Kemble.” Through the doorway Shanghai could see his father was cowering drunkenly behind the front door. “He swore I could stay at Black Oaks till I died, but if he finds you and her here, he won’t honor that. He’ll have us both locked up for the rest of our natural born years—if he doesn’t shoot us on the spot.”
His father had gone so pale and looked so terrified Shanghai felt sorry for him.
“You never saw me tonight,” Shanghai said. “I wasn’t here. You don’t know where or why I went—understand? You’ll ask questions and act worried. You’ll pretend that you’re concerned about your missing son.”
His father nodded, as if trying to understand, but his eyes were too glazed with booze.
Shanghai turned back to Mia.
“Your daddy’s outside,” he told