Vicious by Kevin O'Brien Page A

juice down his throat. “Damn, we should have eaten first,” he grumbled. “I wasn’t thinking about his sugar levels. We just got into the spring, and he started to feel woozy….”
    Leo started choking and coughing. Jordan got sprayed in the face with some orange juice. He pulled back the carton for a moment. “Okay, ready to take some?” he asked. As soon as Leo stopped coughing, Jordan put the orange juice carton to his lips again.
    Leo drank, and his hands eventually came up over Jordan’s. “Atta boy,” Jordan whispered.
    Moira fetched a dish towel and wetted one end. She held it to Leo’s forehead for a moment, then dabbed at the spilt orange juice on his chin, neck, chest, and torso. He stopped drinking for a moment. “Thanks,” he gasped. He tried to smile. “Jesus, this is embarrassing.”
    “Hey, compared to your attempt at the Macarena at the homecoming dance, this is nothing,” Moira replied, trying to smile.
    Leo started to laugh.
    “Keep drinking,” Jordan told him. He patted Leo’s shoulder and then stood up.
    Moira turned to him. “You got some orange juice on you, too,” she said, dabbing at his face with the dish towel.
    “Thanks,” Jordan said, smiling at her. “I got it.” He took the dish towel from her and kissed her hand. Then he wiped off his face.
    Unconsciously, Moira touched her hand where he’d kissed it. She noticed Jordan’s lean, muscular physique—and realized his pants were still unfastened in front. He must have put them on in a hurry. She could see a trail of black hair moving down from his navel. He still had a tan line.
    Leo cleared his throat.
    Moira turned to find him glaring up at her. It was obvious he knew what she was feeling for his friend. He’d stopped drinking and took several long, labored breaths. All the while, he kept staring at her—wounded and disappointed.
    Jordan was oblivious. He mussed Leo’s hair. “Well, you know the diabetic drill, stay put for a while and have a little more juice. I’m going to get cleaned up.”
    Moira didn’t dare look at him as he started to walk away. She couldn’t look at Leo either. She glanced down at the floor—and the different patterns of dirty footprints on the kitchen tiles. The ones she’d noticed earlier were lost amid the others now.
    On his way out of the kitchen, Jordan hesitated and turned to Moira. “What were you doing with the poker?”
    Moira shrugged. “Nothing,” she said. “It was nothing.”
     
    As he raced through the woods in front of the Prewitts’ cabin, he couldn’t help chuckling. He’d come so close. He’d had her trapped in the basement when he’d heard Jordan’s voice in the backyard: “C’mon, Leo, hang in there….”
    Five minutes later, and those boys would have come home to an empty house.
    Maybe he should have been angry that his plans were thwarted. But it was kind of exciting almost getting caught. He’d made his escape—out the front door—with mere seconds to spare.
    He slowed down and got his breath back. No one was chasing him. No one had seen him.
    The girl must have not said anything to her friends. Perhaps right now, she was chalking up her terrible fright to being a stranger in a strange house. Maybe she was telling herself that the sounds she’d heard were the cabin settling or a raccoon outside one of the windows. People thought up all kinds of explanations to avoid thinking the unthinkable.
    Tonight had whetted his appetite for Moira. He had to have her now. She’d be alone again soon enough, and he’d get another chance at her.
    Deep in the forest now, he listened to his own breathing—and twigs snapping under his feet. The car was parked on a nearby trail.
    He hadn’t forgotten about Susan Blanchette. In fact, he was already thinking of a clever way to incorporate this girl into his grand plan for the weekend. He chuckled again when he considered it.
    Killing two birds.

C HAPTER F IVE
    She didn’t realize where she was at first. Susan