Wild Revenge. Sandra Marton

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      She’d been a willing participant.

      More than willing, he thought, remembering the way she’d wrapped herself around him, her moans, her cries, her wetness and heat ….

      His hand slipped. The blade bit at his flesh. A tiny dot of blood appeared high on his cheek.

      He cursed, tore off a square of toilet tissue and dabbed at it.

      It was true, though.

      She’d been with him all the way. Clinging to him. Riding him. Kissing him, biting his lip …

      “Dammit, Wilde …”

      He was turning himself on. And wasn’t that interesting, for lack of a better word?

      He hadn’t had an erection since he’d been wounded, even though the docs had assured him that his equipment still worked. Now, just remembering what he’d done with a woman he didn’t even like was giving him a hard-on.

      What he needed, he thought coldly, was a trip to Dallas, a night at a singles bar where either some hot-looking babe with enough booze in her to ignore the face staring back at him from the mirror or one who’d find his face a turn-on would take him home to bed.

      Did that explain last night? Was the McDowell woman the kind who saw something interesting in a man who was disfigured?

      It didn’t matter.

      His hormones were working again. They’d told him that would happen. It didn’t have a thing to do with her except that she’d been in the right place at the right time.

      Jake splashed cool water on his face, tossed the towel aside and stepped back into his bedroom. His clothes were still in the closet and dresser, same as they had been when he first left for the army. He pulled on faded jeans. An equally faded chambray shirt. A pair of roper boots, the leather worn soft and pliable with age.

      No need to wear his uniform anymore.

      His time in the service was over. So was his life here, working the ranch. He’d loved both things, always figured one or the other would become his career.

      Not anymore.

      He needed a fresh start. Where, doing what … He had no idea. All he knew was that he was going in search of the answers.

      Last night, he’d figured on heading out right away but another day wouldn’t matter. He wanted to spend a little time with his family.

      He ran his hands through his damp hair, tucked his wallet and keys in his pockets, put the patch over his eye. A glance out the window revealed a pewter sky, ripe with the portents of rain.

      A deep breath.

      Then he grabbed a denim jacket, opened the bedroom door and went in search of coffee.

      The Wildes were gathered in the kitchen.

      The girls were at the stove, an amazing sight in itself because Lissa was the only cook among them and she usually shooed her sisters away.

      Today, Emma was scrambling eggs, Lissa was taking a pan of biscuits from the oven and Jaimie was frying bacon.

      Travis and Caleb were sitting at the big oak table that was the heart of the kitchen, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper.

      For a minute, he stood and watched them, these people he loved and who loved him.

      He’d let them down.

      That was the worst part.

      They didn’t know it but he had—and why in hell hadn’t he stepped off that plane last night, gone straight to the ticket counter and booked himself to L. A. or New York or Seattle or—

      “Hey,” Travis said, “it lives!”

      Caleb grinned. “Had a late night, did you, my man?”

      Jake searched for an answer. Foolish, when all he had to do was grin back and say nothing.

      Somehow, he couldn’t.

      Em unknowingly came to his rescue with a mug of black coffee, a one-armed hug and a smacking kiss.

      “Sit down, little brother, and pay no attention to these jerks.”

      Little brother. She’d always called him that because he was the youngest of the Wilde brothers, even though he had four years on her as well as seven or eight inches.

      “Do I ever?” he said, flashing her a smile.

      Travis raised an eyebrow. “We hope you did last night.”

      Lissa scooped bacon and eggs on a plate, put the plate in front of Jake and hugged him, too.

      “Eat while it’s hot, and they hope you did what?”

      Caleb shot Travis a look. “Oh, Jake said he wanted to get some air, so we told him to take Trav’s truck and go for a drive.”

      Jaimie put the basket of biscuits on the table, dropped a kiss on Jake’s head, sat next to him and said, “A drive where?”

      Jake looked at the food. The coffee was all he wanted—he had the feeling anything else would lodge in his throat—but his sisters would never let him get away with that, especially when it was obvious they’d shooed away Senora Lopez, the housekeeper, so they could make breakfast themselves.

      “Believe it or not,” Caleb said in a deliberate stage-whisper, “it’s all edible,”

      Em grabbed a napkin and threw it at him.

      “A drive where?” she said.

      Jake concentrated on forking up some eggs. “Oh, you know. Just around.”

      Jaimie ruffled his hair. “We wondered what happened to you.”

      Lissa nodded. “We thought it might have something to do with the McDowell woman.”

      Jake shot his brothers a look. Travis gave a little shake of his head; Caleb mouthed a quick no.

      “Why would you think that?”

      “Well, you both vanished.”

      “Pretty much at the same time,” Em added.

      “Except, she didn’t exactly vanish.” Jaimie stole a strip of bacon from Jake’s plate. “Ellen Boorman said she made a scene and stalked out in a huff. Anybody know what happened?”

      “No,” Travis and Caleb said, with one voice.

      “Ellen said you were part of the scene and then you disappeared, too. So we thought you might have gone after her.”

      His three sisters fixed him with laserlike stares. Jake coughed.

      “Piece of biscuit,” he gasped. “Caught in my throat.”

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