Caught by Red Garnier Page B

across her cheek. Damn, it had been a mistake to go back to his parents’ place. Abandoned, falling apart, and the stench of death still lingering. But it was a place that would always be a part of him, a reminder of his origins, his failure. Every time he visited, he felt angry, determined, and many times, enlightened.
    But what in the hell had Ivan been doing there?
    Could he be hiding there now? No, he must have left.
    Another moan filtered through his thoughts, soft and deep. It struck him that she sounded like a woman being made love to. His dick jumped at the thought.
    Stiff as a flagpole almost instantly, Cody tried pushing her off his lap, but Meg whimpered again, and he felt a pang of sympathy.
    Okay, he could do this. Comfort her. She’d wanted a hug before, maybe she just wanted that now.
    He ran an awkward hand down her hair, attempting to soothe her. Not to touch her hair or any of that stuff; he’d always tried to touch her as little as possible. But tonight she was whimpering and he wasn’t deaf—he heard her moans. He ran his hand down her hair again—silky delicious hair, not that he was really noticing. “Shh. Relax. Go to sleep.”
    She whimpered again, and Cody shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the sound. Damn it was hard. He pitched himself to the darkest day of his life, the only thing that could bring him out of any sensual haze.
    It had been awful, that day. He’d been sharing looks with her for weeks. Heated looks. And he’d been standing closer only to find out that she didn’t move away. Cody was certain, certain, that she liked him.
    â€œShe wants me,” Ivan had taunted that evening. “It’s me she wants, not you.”
    â€œShut up,” Cody had said. “You’re just jealous she’s walking with me tomorrow and not you.”
    â€œI’m not jealous. You can’t even get her to kiss you.”
    â€œOf course I can, you dimwit,” Cody assured him, but really, he wasn’t so sure. She was different than the other girls; special. He didn’t want to screw it up.
    â€œI could make her have sex with me,” Ivan offered.
    â€œI can make her have sex with me, too,” Cody countered, angry, “and when she has sex with me she’ll be mine, all mine, no one else can ever touch her, especially you.”
    â€œTen dollars you can’t get her to do it tonight.”
    Cody had been pissed, but he’d been challenged and he’d shaken that asshole’s hand.
    For ten fucking dollars.
    Now he could never bring himself to imagine being with her; he felt like that moment would be tainted, forever, because he’d shaken his brother’s dirty hand and had boasted that he’d lose his virginity and take Megan’s for ten dollars.
    He remembered leading her into the woods and how they began arguing about something. He didn’t remember what, it was so inconsequential. Something about him being too quiet and acting weird, according to her. Apparently he wasn’t good at appeasing perceptive females either, because she said, “You know what, Cody? I don’t feel like walking with you today after all.”
    They walked back through the woods back to the house, and that’s when they saw them.
    In the living room that adjoined the kitchen.
    His parents, in a pool of their own blood. The family cat.
    Every living breathing thing in that house had been killed.
    And at the ages of sixteen and fourteen, they witnessed their first murder.
    One week later, he was taken in by his mother’s Texan relatives, and Cody left town. He thought that he’d died the day he’d seen his parents’ murdered bodies.
    But he’d been wrong.
    Some part, some small part of him, had been clinging to life. That last part had died the day Megan watched him drive away through that window.
    He stopped dreaming. He stopped wanting to live. He stopped thinking. He became an animal.