“There’s about to be three.” He stared at Martinez, his teeth drawn back in a snarl he couldn’t contain.
“Sam.” Heather’s hand covered the fist at his side as she moved closer, blocking him, should he try to move.
He stared down at her, his body tensing, expecting disgust, hatred. What he saw tore into his soul with the force of a knife through unprotected flesh. Tears welled in her eyes, soft understanding shining beneath them.
“Sam, Martinez might think you’re serious rather than angry,” she said with a smile, yet a warning look. “Sheriffs get serious about death threats, darling.”
She moved against his chest, staring up at him, beseeching. An anchor in the storm brewing in him. His arms went around her, terrified if he didn’t hold onto something or someone, then he would be sucked into the growing shadows of his own mind.
“Cade. Did Tate have pictures?” Joshua moved farther into the room then, and Sam watched as the other man stared at the oldest August brother. “There’s rumors he was getting them. That he had proof against the three of you.”
“Of what, Josh?” Cade was cold, his voice soft, menacing. “You have unexplained deaths?”
Joshua’s gaze was cynical, knowing, as he glanced at Cade before allowing the look to encompass the rest of the occupants in the room.
“No.” Josh shook his head. “All I have is an unrecorded phone call to the sheriff’s department by someone who went to great pains to disguise their voice. I heard quite a detailed account of a murder in Utah twelve years ago.”
A muscle jumped in Cade’s jaw, and Sam saw the fury that flared in his brother’s eyes.
“Marly…” Cade whispered her name on a sigh.
“No, damn you.” She thumped his chest where she rested against it, and Sam could hear her the desperate battle against the tears inside her. “I won’t leave. Not again, Cade August. I won’t let you face this alone. I won’t.”
Sam’s arms tightened on Heather then. He couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t let her leave. God help him, if she didn’t hold onto him, he didn’t know what he would do to the bastard destroying them.
“I’m staying, too.” Sarah turned in Brock’s arms. Her expression was tormented, filled with knowledge and pain. “We’re a part of this, Cade. All of us. It’s not just you and your brothers anymore. No more hiding.”
“Damn you, Martinez, why didn’t you just shoot us and be done with it?” Sam bit out furiously, as he released Heather and raked his fingers through his hair. “It would have been more humane than this. I’ll be damned if I’ll stand here and listen to you destroy my family.”
He moved for the door.
“Sam, you walk out that door and I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice and suspicion of murder. I’ll lock you up so fast it will make your head spin.”
Sam stopped. The memory of the jail cell was fresh in his mind. The memories of another cell were far clearer. He turned back slowly.
“You’ll have to kill me first, Josh. Can you do that?” Sam clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the betraying memories welling inside him. They had fought so many years to forget, and now it was being ground in their faces in a way they could never ignore, nor escape.
“Goddamn, Martinez,” Brock cursed. “Let him go. We can handle this.”
Something inside Sam stilled. He looked at his brothers, seeing desperation and a foreboding fear. He couldn’t fight the suspicions any longer, no matter how desperately he needed to. “Protecting me again, Brock?” he asked his brother carefully.
Cade shook his head at the other brother, a clear warning in his eyes as Brock stared to speak. Sam advanced back into the room. He looked at Heather; saw her worry, her concern. Rick was observant as always, while Tara watched them all with an edge of sympathy.
“What makes you think we know anything about Utah?” Sam asked him softly. “This is Texas, Josh.”
“And Marly’s uncle was Jedediah Marcelle. He was killed in Utah twelve years ago by an apparent house fire. Coroner’s report suspected he was dead before the blaze. Her natural father, Reginald Jennings barely escaped…”
“No! No!” Marly’s shattered voice echoed through the room. “Oh God, Cade. Cade, no! You didn’t hide this from me.” She was screaming at him, fighting the hold he had on her as Cade’s face twisted in tortured, agonizing pain as her tears began to fall. “Oh God! Damn you. Damn you, you knew…”
Rick and Tara moved then, placing themselves between the sheriff and Cade as Sam rushed to his brother, to Marly.
“Oh God. Oh God. Cade.”
“Get her the fuck out of here,” Sam screamed as Cade fought her, fought to keep her in his arms, to accept the pain radiating through her cries as his face twisted into lines of grief. “Go, goddammit.”
Sam felt his heart breaking. He had feared Cade wouldn’t share the knowledge with her, the fact that her uncle had raped them, that her father had known. Oh yeah, he remembered Reginald Robert.
Getting Marly out of the room wasn’t easy. She fought Cade, broken, despairing. She knew. Sam could feel her knowledge pulsing in every cell of his body. She knew the truth, and it would kill her. Kill Cade. It would destroy them all.
And Martinez had to have known it. He swung around, raw intense rage boiling in his blood, ripping through his body as he jumped for the sheriff.
“Sam, no.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Did the three of you really think you could keep something like this quiet forever?” Martinez’s voice was cold, hard as he paced the room, flicking a glance at Brock and Sam as he turned at the other end of the room. “Dammit to hell, Sam. You should have known better.”
Marly’s reaction had shaken them all. Joshua wasn’t left unaffected, or unharmed. His eye was nearly swollen shut from the one punch Sam had managed to land before Brock and Rick had taken him to the floor. All he could hear were Marly’s cries; all he could feel was Cade’s shame. All their shame. It was like an inferno in his gut, searing into his soul.
They had heard Marly’s screams for too long, broken, ravaged. Sam was desperate to go up, to help Cade comfort her, as he knew Brock was. But was stuck here instead, dealing with this bastard. Stuck in the memories of a past that never seemed to clearly emerge within his mind. But the screams were there, as was the blood.
“You did it deliberately.” Heather accused the sheriff as she sat beside Sam, her hand on his knee, her shoulder pressed against his arm. “You’re a cold-hearted bastard, Sheriff Martinez.”
Unfortunately, Sam agreed with her. Joshua had always been too damned blunt. Too damned straightforward. He went for the jugular when he needed information, and didn’t care whose blood was shed.
“Dammit, Heather, you’re out of line,” Tara bit out as she faced her from the opposite couch. “You have no opinion in this.”
“There’s where you’re wrong,” she argued, obviously fighting to keep her voice quiet. “He was out of line. He had no right to drop that little bombshell the way he did.”
Sam could only sit in silence, watching Martinez as he felt the rage ice in the pit of his stomach, and hear the screams that seemed closer than ever before. His eyes were narrowed, watching the man who had once been a friend, a confidant. A long time ago. In what seemed to have been another life.
Martinez grunted sarcastically.
“Of course I was, otherwise, Sam’s ass would be in jail for assault and the rest of you for suspicion of obstruction. Unfortunately, I’m about as in the fucking dark as one sheriff could be. Now how the hell am I supposed to keep the lot of you out of prison if you don’t fucking help me?” His voice rose as his anger broke the cool demeanor he usually kept. “Dammit, don’t you think I knew something happened back then? We were friends, Brock, Sam. Best friends until you returned from Utah. How fucking stupid did you think I was?”
As far as Sam was concerned, it was the wrong question to ask.
“Stupid enough to destroy an innocent
woman,” Sam yelled back, his fists clenched, his body so tense Heather nearly sat on him to make sure he stayed in his seat.
She stared back defiantly as he flicked her a hard glance. She didn’t look ready to move anytime soon. Amazingly enough, there were no recriminations in her look, no sense of disgust, no anger. Understanding marked her dark green eyes, though her face was pale from stress. Her touch was gentle, and though she looked ready to go to battle, it was the sheriff she seemed more than willing to fight.
He loved her. Needed her with a desperation he couldn’t explain, but he was damned tired of everyone thinking he needed to be protected. Needed to be cuddled and cared for. He shook his head at that thought. He had spent too many years trying to comfort Cade by playing the prankster, by joking his way through the bleak darkness. Now that he couldn’t fight it any longer, his whole family was falling apart around him.
“Who killed Marcelle?” Joshua’s gaze sliced to Sam. “Don’t pull any shit on me, either. If I’m going to pull your ass out of this, Sam, you have to be honest with me.”
“Don’t answer that, Sam.” Rick stepped forward, his voice quiet, steady. He seemed to be the only one in the room not intent on murder. “Sheriff.” He turned to Joshua. “You are aware that the phrasing of your questions could be construed as an officer of the law attempting to either entrap, or conspire with my clients. Both of which are illegal.” His voice was razor sharp with sarcasm, though his expression remained perfectly bland. Cold and controlled.
Joshua frowned. “Don’t you pull any shit with me either, Glaston. I know who the hell you are and just what you’re capable of hiding. So we can both go up on conspiracy charges.”
“Enough.” Sam came to his feet, then jerked his head to stare down at Heather as she placed herself in front of him. “What happened to that bastard doesn’t matter. He’s dead and gone…”
“And someone knows one of you did the killing,” Joshua reminded him coldly. “I’m willing to help, Sam, but not if you can’t cooperate with me.”
“What do you want, Josh?” he sneered. “Do you want to hear how the bastard drugged us, made our dicks so hard that his crazy half brother could slice into it with a scalpel and it still wouldn’t wither? Or how about how he would take a whip and lay it to my back until he forced Brock or Cade to rape the other, or even me? Do you want to hear how many times we had to suck each other off while he cackled…”
“Goddammit, Sam.” Brock came to his feet then, his face pale, his eyes tormented. “Shut the fuck up.”
Sarah sat on the couch, her arms wrapped around her waist as she rocked silently, her head lowered as tears fell to her lap.
“Sarah, baby. Sarah please…” Brock went to his knees, his hand touching her cheek. “Please, let me take care of this.”
“No. I’m okay. I’m ok…” Her voice broke as she seemed to heave sickeningly.
Sam cursed silently as he turned away from the sight. He was no better than Martinez. He shook in the grip of his rage, the twisting images, the sudden sight of bloody hands pushing him to his limits until he had no care for who his words sliced into.
“God. Sam.” Martinez drew in a ragged breath as he nearly collapsed in the chair that sat to his side. “God damn.”
The blood had drained from his face as he stared at Brock and Sarah, seeing their pain, the ravages the past was causing. He shook his head again.
“Coroner has filed his report,” he said bleakly. “You’re cleared of Tate’s murder, but whoever was with him…” He shook his head. “If they have pictures, Sam…”
“Then the bastard would have used them,” Sam bit out. “I appreciate your help, Joshua. But I have to say, you’ve caused a hell of a lot more harm than you did anything else. Why don’t you get the hell out of here until we can figure out what to do.”
Joshua frowned, his eyes narrowing. “You think those women are too weak for this, Sam?”
“No.” Sam shook his head, pain rioting through his body. “I think they’re too damned strong for all of us. Just go, Josh. Just get the fuck out of here so we can deal with it now.”
“It’s not over, Sam.” The other man stood slowly to his feet. “Whoever the bastard is, he’s killed now. None of you are safe. He’s losing control.”
“So am I, Josh. Let me assure you of that. So am I.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Heather knocked timidly on Marly’s bedroom door. She had heard her and Sarah both caustically ordering their lovers from their rooms. She had seen the bleak pain in all three men when they returned to the family room and headed for the whisky.
She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Couldn’t believe their pain and their need was affecting her to this point.
“Cade, go away.” The door jerked opened.
Heather stood before the other woman warily, nervously, as she smoothed her hands over her jeans-clad hips.
“Oh. Heather.” Marly’s tear-drenched eyes widened in surprise. “Come in. You can help me plot Cade’s murder.”
Heather eased into the room, glanced at Sarah then cleared her throat.
“I’d rather you two help me plot something a bit more pleasurable.” She felt her face flush.
Heather blinked in surprise as Sarah rose slowly to her feet.
“You’re going to them?” Marly asked her in amazement.
Heather could feel her heart pounding out of control, fear, arousal and need clamoring through her body. “Sam, he’s…” She swallowed tightly. “He’s hurting. Bad, Marly. And the others…”
“They hurt just as badly,” Marly said softly, sighing. “None of them deserve it, you know.” She frowned sternly.
Heather took a deep breath. She could feel small tingles of electricity moving along the nape of her neck, her scalp. Her body felt warm, yet chilled, and her pussy was drenched at the thought of what was coming. If she could keep her nerve up.
“Damn, this could get embarrassing,” she sighed, pushing her fingers restlessly through her hair.
“Why are you doing it, Heather?” Sarah stepped forward then. “If it’s just for Sam, you’ll never accept it. You’ll never enjoy it.”
She swallowed tightly. “Brock is pacing, and I can see the tension, the pain in his eyes. He’s hurting for them, and doesn’t know how to help. Cade is tortured. Sam’s starting to remember and he knows it, and he can’t stand it. Sam…” She licked her lips as she fought the conflicting emotions inside her heart. “Sam is almost broken, Sarah.”
“Not good enough, Heather,” Marly whispered gently. “I won’t give you my permission, or my help in fucking the man I love with such a flimsy excuse.”
Heather frowned. “You knew it was coming,” she accused her.
Marly shook her head. “You’re not pissing me off, either. Why do you want to do it, Heather?”
She twisted her hands together. Dammit, it shouldn’t be this hard.
“It’s time.” She struggled to push the words out.
“Heather, you’re not ready.” Sarah’s voice was regretful, firm.
“They’re breaking my heart, goddammit. I have to do something.” Tears welled in her eyes. She knew what they needed, knew what broke the desperate distance that occurred between the men when the demons rose so bleak and cold inside them. “All of them, Sarah. I can’t bear it. I can’t bear how much I need them, anymore than I can stand their need any longer.”
Marly smiled. A slow, gentle smile that eased the desperate fear filling her.
“Let’s get started then. And don’t balk because of the preparations it takes, it makes it easier for you, and for them.”
Balk? She was horrified. An anal douche? Lubricant? She stood inside the bathroom an hour later, the inflatable butt plug once again inserted, inflated to its farthest width. She had showered, shaved, paid special attention to making her cunt as soft, as smooth as possible, and berated herself for her shaking hands as she pulled her robe on quickly.
Stepping back into he
r own room, she faced the two women who sat cross-legged on her bed, waiting on her.
“Do you realize how depraved this is?” she asked, her voice breaking as she fought for control.
“You’ll love it.” Marly waved her hand dismissively. “I promise, there is nothing more seductive, more pleasurable than those three men concentrating on you, and on your pleasure. You’ll be begging for it again tomorrow.”
Heather looked at her in horror. “God, this is so unreal.” She trembled, unable to believe she was taking the final step, actually preparing to…
A tingle shot up her spine, the base of her neck, and covered her scalp as she shivered in anticipation.
“Be sure, Heather,” Sarah advised her. “If you even think it’s not what you want, they’ll know, and they’ll pull back. It will hurt them more if you’re forcing this.”
“Forcing it?” she questioned roughly. “Sarah, I’m so hot I might come before I get down the stairs, and that terrifies me.”
“Don’t do that.” Marly laughed. “Save your energy. I promise, you’ll need it tonight…”
“Not to mention in the morning, tomorrow night, the night after, takes them a while to get their fill.” Sarah was laughing with Marly as they glanced at each other in amusement.
“That’s not possible,” Heather whispered, horrified. “No man can go like that…”
“Oh Heather, you don’t know the August brothers well enough.” Sarah shook her head with amused regret. “Trust me, each of them can go three times a day at the least and never blink. Stamina hardly comes close.”