Carnal Innocence

embarrassment, the annoyance, and the insult outweighed caution. “And don’t think being lazy means stupid. I know damn well what she’s trying to do. If the pair of you think that screams and threats are going to have me dancing down the aisle, then think again.”
    The muscles in Austin’s jaw quivered. “So, she’s good enough to fuck but not good enough to marry.”
    “That says it plain enough.”
    Tucker was quick enough to duck the first swing, but not the second. Austin’s ham-sized fist shot into his gut, stealing his breath and doubling him over. He took a rain of blows on the face and neck before he managed to find the wind to defend himself.
    He tasted blood, smelled it. The fact that it was his own sent a ripe, dazzling fury pouring through him. He didn’t feel the pain when his knuckles rammed into Austin’s chin, but the power of the punch sang up his arm.
    It felt good. Damn good.
    A part of him continued to think with a silver-edged clarity. He had to stay on his feet. He would never match Austin for size or strength, and had to depend on agility and quickness. If he was brought down, and managed to get up again, he’d likely do so with broken bones and a bloody pulp for a face.
    He took one just beneath the ear and heard the archangels sing.
    Fists thudded against bone. Blood and sweat flew out in a grisly spray. As they grappled, lips peeled back in animal snarls, Tucker realized it wasn’t simply his pride he was defending, it was his life. There was a dull gleam of madness in Austin’s eyes that spoke more clearly than hard grunts or sneering curses. The sight of it had a snake of panic curling in Tucker’s gut.
    His worst fears were realized when Austin came at him, head down, bulldozer body behind it. He let out a long triumphant cry as Tucker’s feet skidded on the gravel and he went flying backward into the peonies.
    His wind was gone. He could hear the pathetic wheeze of air struggling to get down his throat and into his lungs. But he still had his fury, and he had fear. When he started to scrabble up, Austin fell on him, one beefy hand closing over Tucker’s throat, the other pummeling his kidneys.
    Even as he levered a hand under Austin’s chin, frantically struggling to pry the head up and away, his vision dimmed. All he could see were those eyes,bright now with the pleasure of the kill, blank with madness.
    “Send you to Satan,” Austin chanted. “Send you to Satan. Should’ve killed you before, Beau. Should’ve done it.”
    Feeling his life passing, Tucker went for the eyes.
    Austin threw back his head and howled like a wounded cur. When his hand slipped off Tucker’s throat, Tucker sucked air in big greedy gulps that burned and revived.
    “You crazy sonofabitch, I’m not my father.” He choked, gagged, and managed to haul himself to his hands and knees. He was terrified he would toss his breakfast into the crushed peonies. “Get the hell off my land.”
    He turned his head and felt a moment’s thrill of satisfaction at seeing Austin’s bloodied face. He’d given as good as he’d got—and a man couldn’t ask for more. Unless it was a cool shower, an ice pack, and a bottle of aspirin. He started to sit back on his heels. Quick as a snake, Austin’s hand darted out for one of the heavy stones that circled the peonies.
    “Good Christ” was all Tucker could manage as Austin levered the stone over his head.
    The shotgun blast had them both jolting. Pellets skimmed through the peonies.
    “I’ve got another full barrel, you bastard,” Della said from the porch. “And it’s aiming right at your useless dick. You put that stone back where you got it, and mighty quick, ’cause my finger’s dripping sweat.”
    The madness was fading. Tucker could actually see it drain out of Austin’s eyes, to be replaced by a violent but somehow saner anger.
    “It probably won’t kill you,” Della said conversationally. She was standing on the edge of the porch, the 30–30 resting comfortably on her shoulder, her eye at the sight and a grim smile on her face. “You might have another twenty years to pee in a plastic bag.”
    Austin dropped the stone. The sickening thud it made when it hit the mulch had Tucker’s stomachlurching. “‘For judgment I am come,’” Austin quoted. “He’s going to pay for what he did to my girl.”
    “Paying’s just what he’ll do,” Della said. “If that girl’s carrying what’s his, Tucker’ll see to it. But I ain’t