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The windows of the car were opened and the wind tore at her hair, tugging it free of the pins that had contained it in a neat, demure bun for the funeral. The wind sucked the breath from her nostrils. She didn't know how Cage had managed to light his cigarette, but the tip of it glowed against his dark face, illuminated only by the lights on the dashboard.
"Having fun?" He leered at her mockingly.
Seemingly unaffected by his sarcasm, she turned her head and stared out the windshield. She refused to honor him with an answer. The speeding car terrified her. She disapproved of it all, but she would remain mute if it killed her. And she thought it very well might, as he turned the car off the main highway onto a road that had no markings. How he had known it was there, Jenny was never able to figure out.
He abused the vintage Corvette by driving it over the dirt road, which was as corrugated as a washboard. Jenny's teeth slammed together and she clenched down on them to hold them intact. She gripped the cushioned seat beneath her in an effort to keep her head from bumping the ceiling as they bounced jarringly over the pock-marked road.
They were climbing. She could sense the change in altitude, though there was nothing to be seen, no relief from the darkness that surrounded them. The headlights bobbed crazily with each erratic movement of the car. Even the moon had slipped behind a cloud and lent no light, as though to say that Cage Hendren was pulling one of his wild stunts and no one should have to be witness to it.
He brought the car to an abrupt halt that almost sent Jenny through the windshield and made the tires skid fifty feet before coming to a complete standstill.
Cage cut the motor, creating a sudden silence as the blaring radio died with the engine. He propped his arm on the open windowsill, took the cigarette from his mouth, and replaced it with the spout of the flask. He drank deeply again and smacked his lips with satisfaction after he had swallowed.
He turned to Jenny, who was watching him in silent reproof. "I'm sorry. Where are my manners? Drink?" He tilted the flask toward her. She didn't move and her bland expression didn't change. "No?" he said, shrugging. "Too bad." He drank again, then offered her the pack of cigarettes. "Smoke? No, no, of course not."
He swigged more liquor. "You're the lady without blemish, aren't you? The viceless Miss Jenny Fletcher. Untainted. Untouchable. Fit only for saints like our dearly departed Hal Hendren." He dragged a goodly portion of nicotine into his lungs and released the smoke in a long gust aimed directly at her face.
Still she showed no reaction.
Then, as though her composure angered him, he threw the cigarette out the window. "Let's see, what would rattle your cage? What would get you to shriek in terror? What would provoke you into getting the hell out of my car, out of my sight, and out of my goddamned life?"
He was shouting. His breathing was labored and harsh. Jenny watched him visibly rein in his temper and control himself. When he spoke again, his voice still shook with hurt and fury, but he was calmer.
"What would disgust you enough to flee in fear for your virtue? A barrage of dirty words? Yeah, maybe. I doubt if you even know any, but we'll give that a try. Should I put them in alphabetical order or just say them as they come to my mind?"
"You can't disgust me, Cage."
"Wanna bet?"
"And nothing you say or do will make me leave you now."
"Is that right? You've set out to save me. Is that it?" He laughed mirthlessly. "Don't waste your time."
"I won't leave you," she repeated softly.
"Oh, yeah?" A sardonic curl lifted one corner of his lip. "We'll see."
He lunged across the console. One hand cupped the back of her head and hauled her against him. His lips crushed down on hers, hard and bruising. His teeth brutally ground against her tender mouth. She didn't fight him. Even when his tongue plunged between her lips to violate her mouth in the most demeaning way, she withstood its violent pillage without resistance.
The dress she had worn to Hal's funeral was a two-piece black knit. Cage fumbled at her waist, lifted her top, and plowed his hand beneath it.
"You've no doubt heard of my reputation with women," he rasped hotly against her neck. "I'm ruthless, without scruples. A despoiler of virgins, a wife-stealer, a sex machine run amok. It's said I'm so horny, it's tough for me to keep my pants zipped." He parted her knees with one of his. "Know what that means to you, Jenny? Bad news. You're in a heap of trouble, girl."
He brutalized her mouth again with another insulting kiss as his hand found her breast beneath her top. He pressed his hand over it, then dug into the fragile cup of her brassiere to lift her out. He massaged her breast roughly and rolled his thumb over its tender crest.
Despite her determination not to react, Jenny's back bowed off the seat. She drew herself up taut and tense against him. But she didn't fight or struggle. She resisted with passivity.
Her soft gasp was as effective as a siren's blast in Cage's head. He came to himself, realized what he was doing, and sagged against her like an inflatable toy someone had just punctured with a hat pin. He drew in several restorative breaths against her mouth, where his lips no longer exacted their revenge.
The oxygen served to clear the fog of alcohol and rage from his head. Contritely he withdrew his hand from her brassiere and in a pathetic attempt to make amends, tried to adjust the lace cup back over her breast. When he pulled his hand from beneath her top, he moved back to the driver's side of the car and got out.
Jenny buried her face in her hands and gulped in shuddering breaths. When she was somewhat composed, she straightened her clothing, opened her door and stepped out.
Cage was sitting on the hood of the car, staring out at nothing. She recognized their surroundings now. They were on the mesa, a table of land that rose above the surrounding countryside. It extended for miles. Beneath them the prairie was dark and still. The hot, dry wind plastered her clothes to her body and whipped through her hair. It whistled mournfully, nature's keening.
She moved to stand directly in front of him, blocking his view, such as it was. Their knees almost touched. He raised his head, looked at her briefly, then let his chin drop to his chest.
"I'm sorry."
