Lori Foster - ThE BUCKHORN LEGACY

Drawn into herself, Emma sidled away from him, whispering a broken apology again and again. She hugged her arms around herself. Casey realized the night was cool, and while Dell wore a jacket, Emma wore only a T-shirt and jeans, as if she’d been pulled away without having time to grab her coat. Since he was shirtless, he couldn’t offer her anything. He tried to think, to figure out what to do, but he couldn’t get his brain to work. He felt glued to the spot, unable to take his gaze off her.

She needed his help.

Honey came to the same realization. “Why don’t we all go inside and talk?”

Looking horrified by that proposition, Emma backed up. “No. That’s not—”

“Be quiet, girl!” Her father reached for her again, his anger and his intent obvious.

Casey stepped in front of him, bristling, coiled. “Don’t even try it.” No way in hell would he let Dell touch her again.

Face mottled with rage, her father shouted, “You think you get some say-so, boy? You think what you’ve done to her gives you that right?”

Without moving his gaze from the man in front of him, Casey said, “Honey, will you take Emma inside?”

Honey looked at her husband, who nodded. Casey hadn’t had a single doubt what his father would do or say. Not once in his entire life had he ever had to question his father’s support.

Never in his life had he been more grateful for it.

Again, Emma tried to back away, moving into the far shadows of the big porch. Casey snapped his gaze to hers, so attuned to her it seemed he felt her every shuddering breath. “Go inside, Emma.”

She bit her lip, big tears spilling over her blotchy cheeks and clinging to her long lashes. Her mouth trembled. “Casey, I…”

“It’s all right.” He struggled to keep his voice soft, comforting, but it wasn’t easy—not while he could see the hurt in her eyes and feel her very real distress. “We’ll talk in a little bit.”

Speaking low and gentle, Honey put her arm around Emma, and reluctantly, Emma allowed herself to be led away. The front door closed quietly behind them.

With his daughter out of sight, Dell seemed more incensed than ever. He took two aggressive steps forward. “You’ll do more than talk. You’ll damn well marry her.”

Casey gave him a cool look of disdain. That Dell could treat a female so callously made him sick to his stomach, but that he’d treat his own daughter that way brought out all Casey’s protective instincts. More than anyone else he knew, Emma needed love and understanding. Yet, her own father was throwing her out, deliberately humiliating her.

“You brought her here,” Casey growled. “You’ve delivered her to my doorstep, to me. What she or I do now is no concern of yours. Go home and leave us the hell alone.”

Though Casey knew it would only complicate things more, he wanted to tear Dell apart. It wouldn’t strain him at all. He was taller, stronger, with raw fury adding to his edge. He deliberately provoked Dell, and waited for his reaction.

It came in a lightning flash of curses and motion. The older man erupted, lunging forward. Smiling with intent, anxious for the confrontation, Casey braced himself.

Unfortunately, Sawyer caught Dell by his jacket collar before Casey could throw his first swing.

At well over six feet tall, solid with muscle, Sawyer wasn’t a man to be messed with. He slammed Dell hard into the side of the house, and held him there with his forearm braced across his throat. He leaned close enough that their noses nearly touched.

“You come onto my property,” Sawyer snarled, looking meaner than Casey had ever seen him look, “treating your only daughter like garbage and threatening my son?” He slammed Dell again, making his head smack back against the wood siding. “Unless you want me to take you apart right now, which I’m more than willing to do, I suggest you get hold of your goddamn temper.”

Dell’s face turned red from Sawyer’s choking hold, but he managed a weak nod. When Sawyer released him, he sagged down, gulping in air. It took him several moments, and Casey was glad that Emma had gone inside so she didn’t hear her father’s next words.

Wheezing, Dell eyed both Sawyer and Casey. “You’re so worried about Emma, fine. She’s yours.” He spit as he talked, his face distorted with anger and pain. “You and your son are welcome to her, but don’t think you can turn around and send her back home.”

“To you?” Casey curled his lip. “Hell no.”

Something in the man’s eyes didn’t make sense. The fury remained, no doubt about that. But Dell also looked…desperate. And a bit relieved. “You swear?”

He should have hit the son of a bitch at least once, Casey thought. He nodded, and forced the next words out from between clenched teeth. “You just make sure you stay the hell away from her.”

Glaring one last time, Dell stepped around Sawyer and stomped down off the porch. At the edge of the grass, he stopped, his shoulders stiff, his back expanding with deep breaths, and for a long moment he hesitated. Casey narrowed his eyes, waiting. For Emma’s sake, he half hoped her father had a change of heart, that he showed even an ounce of concern or compassion.

Dell looked over his shoulder at Casey. His mouth opened twice but no words were spoken. Finally he shook his head and went to his battered truck. He didn’t glance back again. His headlights came on and he left the yard, squealing his tires and spewing gravel.

Casey stood there, breathing hard, his hands curled into fists, his whole body vibrating with tension. The enormity of the situation, of what he’d just taken on, nearly leveled him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think.

Jesus, what had he done?

Sawyer’s hand slipped around the back of his neck, comforting, supportive. A heavy, uncomfortable beat of silence passed.

“What do you want to do first, Case?” Sawyer spoke in a nearly soundless murmur, his voice disappearing in the dark night. “Talk to me, or talk to Emma?”

Casey looked at his dad, a man he loved and respected more than anyone else on earth. He swallowed. “Emma.”

Nodding, Sawyer turned them both around and headed for the door. Casey hoped a few answers came to him before the morning light began creeping over the lake. Because, at the moment, he had no idea what the hell was going on.

* * *

EMMA HEARD THE opening and the closing of the front door. She squeezed her eyes shut, horrified, ashamed, scared spitless.

And oddly relieved.

More tears leaked out, choking her, burning her cheeks and throat. What had she done? What choice had she been given?

Honey touched her arm in a motherly way. “Drink your hot chocolate. And Emma, everything will be okay. You’ll see.”

Shaking down deep in her soul, Emma wiped at her eyes. She felt like a child, and knew she looked more like a barroom whore. Her makeup had long since been ruined and her nose and eyes were red. Her hair was a wild mess and her T-shirt was dirty.

Though the Hudson household was cozy and warm, she still felt chilled from the inside out. In that moment, she wondered if she’d ever be warm again.

Hugging herself in self-conscious dismay, she wished she could just disappear. She didn’t belong in this house with these nice respectable people. But disappearing wasn’t an option. She’d gotten herself in this mess and now she had to face them all. She had to explain.

She owed Casey at least that much.

At that moment, barefoot and shirtless, Casey came around the corner into the kitchen. His muscled arms crossed over his chest as he stopped in front of the kitchen table where she sat. His light-brown eyes, filled with compassion and confusion, warmed to glittering amber as he looked her over.