In the Woods, Bears

Chapter 9 - Split Skin

Jeremiah reached for her and rested his hand gently on her calf. "It's okay. It's not a big deal."

"The fuck it's not. Causing women to bleed isn't foreplay. Not where I'm from." Palm red with blood, she turned her open hand toward Jeremiah, showing him the damage.

Frustrated and angry, Red snapped, "I didn't do that."

Brow furrowed, Jeremiah let her go, and she stumbled away from him. She said, "The hell you didn't. You were holding me right there." Clumsily, she gathered her clothes as a trickle of blood tickled her ankle. "I'm done with this hillbilly shit."

Red stared at her. "You can't just leave."

"I can." Leaning against a tree, she pulled on her jeans. "And you are going to drive me back into town." With her underwear stuffed in her pocket, she struggled to put on her shirt.

"We aren't done here." Red stood up, but made no move toward his clothing. "We aren't going anywhere yet. We've barely started."

Frowning at his cousin, Jeremiah said, "Ease up."

As tendrils of fear wound out from her belly, Kennedy sneered at Red. With her red palm thrust in his direction like an accusation, she said, "Fuck you."

Unashamed of his nakedness, Red stood unsteady and still drunk. "Are you going to walk to town?"

Because her cut itched and stung, Kennedy bent and pressed her panties against her bleeding ankle. "What the hell did you cut me with?"

Red growled. "I said I didn't do that to you. Clueless."

All the smoke and lust were gone from her system. She glared at him. Her ankle was still bleeding. Red shook his body, and she could swear he was wider across the chest. Moonlight could make things look funny. Naked, his cock jutted from his body with the condom clinging to him like a snake's skin. Aware that she had placed herself in a dangerous position, her survival instincts sobered her up. When Red took an assertive step toward her, she held her ground.

From behind Red's truck came the gruff sound of a clearing throat.

Shit. Two was a bad scene. Three would be worse, much worse. Jeremiah watched from the ground. Calmly, the newcomer walked around the truck toward them, cradling a rifle. He was tall and wide, in his early thirties. What were they feeding the boys out in these woods? Did they raise them on straight gravel and squirrel meat?

Scowling, Red said, "Ranger Retard." He turned from her and said, "Fool," under his breath. Red reached for his jeans. With his gun resting in his arms, the dark-haired stranger nodded to her and stepped toward their dwindling fire.

Jeremiah shrugged, seated on the ground, shirt open. "We didn't do anything she didn't want, Terry." He sat unconcerned about his exposed cock. "She was into it until her ankle bled." He gestured toward her right foot.

Red said, "She doesn't know shit. Wandered out here from the city. She doesn't even know she's in heat."

Kennedy bristled. "What the hell? Just because I fucked you doesn't mean I'm an animal in heat."

The new guy was big, scary big, with sharp intelligent blue eyes and tawny skin. He bent and picked up her phone from where it lay in the leaves and sticks. She took it from him and shoved it in her back pocket.

When he got a whiff of her breath, he twisted his face away from her. Leveling a dark look at the men, he said, "Drunk?" His speech wasn't clear, but the meaning was plain enough, and his tone was angry.

"Doc, the three of us were just having fun." Jeremiah pulled up his jeans.

While his cousin was dressing, Red said with a shrug, "Friday night, man."