Christine Feehan - Rocky Mountian Miracle.pdf - Feehan Christine eng - bugnme5

ROCKY

MOUNTAIN

MIRACLE

Christine Feehan

dedication

This book is dedicated to Sheila Clover, a woman I admire very much.

acknowledgments

I have to thank Dr. Lisa Takesue of Main St. Veterinarian Clinic for her unfailing

patience when I asked veterinarian questions and, most especially, Tory Canzonetta, a

federally licensed trainer at Destiny Big Cat Sanctuary, a last-stop haven for exotic cats.

Visit the website at www.destinybigcats.com and see the beautiful tigers and other cats!

Tory rescues exotic cats and keeps them safe and healthy. She gave me so much

information and opened her heart and sanctuary to me for research.

I love to hear from readers. Please feel free to visit my website,

www.christinefeehan.com and join my members-only private e-mail list to receive free

screen savers, view teasers, and receive new-release announcements of my books.

chapter 1

Cole Steele could hear the screams coming from the room down the hall. He knew

those nightmares intimately, because the demons also visited him every time he closed

his own eyes. He was a grown man, hard and disciplined and well able to drink his way

through the night if necessary, but Jase was just a young teenager. Guilt edged his anger

as he made his way through the dark to the boy's room. He should have done something,

to spare his half brother the horrendous legacy of his own past.

In truth, he hadn't been in touch with his father for years. It hadn't occurred to him

that his father would remarry a much younger woman and produce another child, but he

should have considered the possibility, not just dropped off the face of the earth. Cole

shoved open the bedroom door. Jase was already fully awake, his eyes wide with the

terror of his memories. Something twisted hard and painfully in Cole's chest.

"I'm here, Jase," he announced unnecessarily. He wasn't good at soothing the boy. He

had been born and bred in roughness and still had a difficult time being gentle. Worse,

Jase barely knew him. He was asking the teenager to trust him in spite of his reputation

and the rumors of attempted murder flying freely through the town. It was no wonder the

boy regarded him with some suspicion.

"I hate Christmas. Can't we just make it go away?" Jase asked. He threw back the

covers and paced across the room, the same edgy tension in his teenage body that Cole

had in abundance as a grown man. Jase was tall and gangly, like a young colt, all arms

and legs, looking a bit like a scarecrow in flannel pajamas. He had Cole's dark hair, but

his eyes must have been his mother's, as they were a deep, rich brown. Right now, his

eyes were wide with terror, and he turned away to hide his trembling.

Cole felt as if he were looking at himself as a youngster, only Jase had poured himself

into books and Cole had become a hellion. Cole knew what it was like to hide the bruises

and the terror from the rest of the world. He had grown up living in isolation and hiding,

and he still lived that way, but he would be damned if this boy would endure the same.

"Did he shoot your dog for Christmas?" Cole asked bluntly. "That's what he did for

me the last time I wanted to celebrate the holiday like my friends. I haven't ever wanted a

Christmas since. He also beat the holy hell out of me, but that was insignificant next to

the dog."

Jase faced him slowly. The horror was still all too stark in his eyes. "I had a cat."

"I'll bet he said you weren't tough enough and that only sissies needed pets and

Christmas. He wanted you to toughen up and be a man. Not get attached to anything."

Jase nodded, swallowing an obvious lump in his throat. "He did a lot of things."

"You have burn marks? Scars from cuts? He liked to whip me with a coat hanger.

And when I didn't cry, he took to using other things."

"I cried," Jase admitted.

"I did too, at first. He was a mean son of bitch, Jase. I'm glad he's dead. He can't touch

you anymore. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you the nightmares go away because I

still have them. We both lived in hell and he had too much money for anyone to want to

believe us." Cole rubbed his hands through his thick black hair. "He was sick, Jase. I got

out, changed my name thinking he'd never find me, and stayed as far from him as I could

possibly get. That's no excuse. I should have kept tabs on him. Maybe I could have gotten

you away from him."

Jase shook his head. "He never would have let me go."

"You know what they're all saying, don't you? They think I had something to do with

his death."

Jase nodded, his eyes suddenly wary. "I've heard. Why did you come back?"

"I was named your guardian in his will. It was the first I'd heard of you. I didn't know

you existed until five months ago. I knew he must have done the same thing to you and

your mother that he did to me and mine. I thought I could protect you, at least until you're

old enough to live on your own. I figured I would be a better guardian than anyone else

the court might appoint or that our father had named if I didn't accept."

Dawn was creeping in through the huge plate-glass window. Cole watched the sun

come up. It was cold, and the ground outside was covered with several feet of snow,

turning the hills into a carpet of sparkling crystals. "You hungry?"

"Are you cooking?"

Cole managed a lazy shrug even though he really wanted to smash something. It was

always there, that volcano inside him, waiting to erupt. The thought of his father, the time

of year, it wasn't all that difficult to bring rage to the surface. "I thought we'd go into

town and give them all something more to gossip about."

Jase met Cole's eyes squarely. "They say you killed the old man and that you're

planning to kill me next. Sixty-four million dollars is a lot of money, twice as much as

thirty-two."

"They do say that, don't they?" Cole said. "And don't forget the ranch. It's worth twice

that easily, maybe more with the oil and gas deposits. I haven't actually checked into how

much yet." His eyes had gone ice-cold, a piercing blue stare that impaled the boy. "What

do you say, Jase? Because in the end, you're the only one that counts as far as I'm

concerned."

Jase was silent a long time. "I say I'm glad you came back. But I don't understand

why he left us the money and the ranch when he hated us both so much. It doesn't make

any sense." He looked around the enormous room, frowning. "I keep expecting him to

show up in the middle of the night. I'm afraid to open my eyes because I know he's

standing over the bed, just waiting."

"With that smile." Cole's voice was grim.

Jase nodded, a small shudder betraying the fact that he wasn't as calm as he tried to

seem. "With that smile." He looked at Cole. "What do you do when the nightmares

come?" He punched his fist into his pillow. Once. Twice. "I hate this time of year."

Cole felt a sharp pain in his chest and the familiar churning in his gut. His own hand

balled into a fist, but he tamped down the smoldering anger and hung on to control for the

boy's sake. "I drink. I'm your guardian, so I have to say that's not allowed for you. At

least not until you're a hell of a lot older."

"Does it work?"

"No," Cole said grimly. Honestly. "But it gets me through the night. Sometimes I go

to the workout room or the barn. I hung a heavy bag in both places, and I beat on them

until my hands hurt. Other times I take the wildest horse we have and go out into the

mountains. I run the hills, using the deer trails, anything to make me so tired I can't think

anymore."

"None of that works either, does it?" Jase had tried physical activity as well, but he

was finding that talking quietly with his half brother was helpful. More helpful than

anything else he'd tried. At least one person believed him. And one person had gone

through the same torment. It created a bond in spite of the ugly rumors that surrounded

his tough, harder-than-nails half brother.

Cole shook his head. "No, none of it works, but it gets you through the night. One

night at a time. He's dead, Jase, and that's all that matters."

Jase took a deep breath. "Did you kill him?"

"No, but I wish I had. I used to lie awake at night and plan how I'd do it. That was

before Mom died. Then I just wanted to get out." Cole studied the boy's face. "Did you

kill him?" He concentrated his gaze on the boy. Every nuance. Every expression, the way

he breathed. The flick of his eyes. The trembling of his hands.

Jase shook his head. "I was too afraid of him."

Cole let his breath out slowly. He had stayed alive using his ability to read others, and

he was fairly certain that Jase was telling the truth. Jase had been in the house when

someone had shot Brett Steele right there in his own office. He wanted to believe that the

boy wasn't involved in Brett Steele's death. Cole wasn't certain how he would have

handled it if Jase had admitted he'd done it, and for a man in Cole's profession, that

wasn't a good thing.

"Cole, did he kill your mother?" For the first time, Jase sounded like a child rather

than a fourteen-year-old trying to be a man. He sank down onto the bed, his thin

shoulders shaking. "I think he killed my mother. They said she was drinking and drove

off the bridge, but she never drank. Never. She was afraid to drink. She wanted to know

what was happening all the time. You know what he was like, he'd be nice one minute

and come after you the next."

Brett Steele had been a sadistic man. It was Cole's belief that he had killed for the

sheer rush of having the power of life and death over anything, human or animal. He'd

enjoyed inflicting pain, and he had tortured his wives and children and every one of his

employees. The ranch was huge, a long way from help, and once he had control over

those living on his lands, he never relinquished it. Cole knew he'd been lucky to escape.

"It's possible. I think the old man was capable of paying everyone off from coroners

to police officers. He had too much money and power for anyone to cross him. It would

be easy enough for a medical examiner to look the other way if there was enough money

in bribes. And if that didn't work, there were always threats. We both know the old man

didn't make idle threats; he'd carry them out."

Jase met his brother's stare directly. "He killed your mother, didn't he?"

"Maybe. Probably." Cole needed a drink. "Let's go into town and get breakfast."

"Okay." Jase pulled a pair of jeans from the closet. They were neatly hung and

immaculately clean, just like everything else in the room. "Who do you think killed him?

If it wasn't either of us, someone else had to have done it."

"He made a lot of enemies. He destroyed businesses and seduced as many of his

friends' wives as possible. And if he killed anyone else, as I suspect he must have,

someone could have known and retaliated. He liked to hurt people, Jase. It was inevitable

that he would die a violent death."

"Were you surprised he left you the money and guardianship over me?"

"Yes, at first. But later I thought maybe it made sense. He wanted us to be like him.

He had me investigated and found I spent time in jail. I think he believed I was exactly

like him. And the only other choice of a guardian he had was your uncle, and you know

how much they despised one another."

Jase sighed. "Uncle Mike is just as crazy as Dad was. All he talks about is sin and

redemption. He thinks I need to be exorcised."

Cole swore, a long string of curses. "That's a load of crap, Jase. There's nothing

wrong with you." He needed to move, to ride something hard, it didn't matter what it was.

A horse, a motorcycle, a woman, anything at all to take away the knots gathering in his

stomach. "Let's get out of here."

He turned away from the boy, a cold anger lodged in his gut. He detested Christmas,

detested everything about it. No matter how much he didn't want the season to start, it

always came. He woke up drenched in sweat, vicious laughter ringing in his ears. He

Christine Feehan - Rocky Mountian Miracle.pdf

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