Heather's Gift (25 page)

“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.

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“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.”

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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.”

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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 her 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…”

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“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.”

She swallowed tightly. “Will it hurt?” She could barely still the tremor in her voice. Damn, she was too nervous.

“Any pain you feel will be so damned good, you’ll beg for more.” Marly sighed. “I still say Cade doesn’t deserve it, though. He should suffer, for days.”

“He was protecting you, Marly,” Sarah murmured. “You know that.”

“I don’t need his protection.” She propped her elbow on her knee and regarded Heather solemnly as her chin sat atop her fist. “They try too hard to protect us. It’s their greatest flaw. Sometimes, you have to kick them, hard, to make them stop.”

Heather stood uncomfortably in the middle of the room, waiting for the plug in her rear to ease her muscles. They had told her before she went to the bathroom that it was essential to give her body time to adjust. They loved anal sex as dearly as they did vaginal, and Marly had warned it that it was possible, entirely possible that each of them would need her there before the night was out.

“I think I’m scared,” she finally said as she fought to control her breathing, the hard beat of her heart.

“No you’re not,” Marly assured her softly. “Not really. It’s like being a virgin all over again. The unknown is the scariest part. The actual act is more beautiful than you can imagine. This isn’t fucking, Heather. It’s loving, and I promise, you’ll understand that when it’s over.”

“If I survive it?” she joked nervously.

“You’ll survive it,” Sarah promised with a smile. “Now, it’s been an hour. If the worst of the pinching is gone, then you’re ready to go downstairs.”

And it was. The fiery tightness in her rear had all but eased, just leaving her feeling stretched, full.

“Here, take this.” Marly rushed to the closet and jerked a small satin comforter from the shelf there. “Take off the robe and go to them wrapped in this. Trust me, they’ll love it.”

Heather removed the robe slowly and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. She took a deep breath for courage, a smile trembling at her lips.

“You’re sure?” she asked the other two women.

“If you are, Heather.” Sarah nodded. “But you have to be certain yourself.”

She breathed out heavily. She was sure. Turning, she left the room and without looking back, headed downstairs to the men awaiting her. Lora Leigh

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Chapter Thirty-Six

Bleak silence filled the house after the sheriff left. Marly and Sarah were quiet, though they had thrown the men out of their rooms and holed up together in Heather’s several hours ago. Now Sam sat with Brock and Cade in the family room, watching, listening to the silence.

“I killed Marcelle, didn’t I?” It wasn’t a blinding stroke of knowledge. He had suspected for years. The blood on his hands, the nightmares, the demons that haunted him, had assured him of it.

He saw the truth in the sudden fear in Cade’s face, in Brock’s.

“I did it,” Cade gritted out roughly.

Sam shook his head, staring at Cade as he let the knowledge sink into him. “I remember the blood, Cade. I remember you wiping it from my hands to your own. And I know why you did it. But I don’t need your protection any longer.”

Cade came to his feet in a surge of anger as he paced to the French doors. “The son of a bitch deserved to die. It doesn’t matter who did it, Sam.”

Sam lowered his head, shaking it wearily.

“He did it because of me, Cade. Because I rejected him. Because I humiliated him. It was my fault.”

“No, Sam.” Brock’s expression was sadly quiet, accepting. “It wasn’t your fault. Marcelle was a sick man, and he focused on you because you were stronger than he was. Someone he wanted to break. We wouldn’t have allowed that, no matter what happened.”

Sam shook his head, unable, unwilling to accept such simplicity in the reasoning.

“You should hate me, Brock. Look what happened to all of us.”

“Exactly, to all of us, goddammit.” Cade swung away, fury vibrating in his voice.

“We weren’t alone, just as we always swore we wouldn’t be, Sam. We protected each other as best we could and we came out of it fucking alive, what more do you need?”

“I need to fucking close it,” Sam screamed back, surging to his feet. “I want to end the goddamn nightmares, Cade, and the smell of blood and semen that nearly fucking chokes me at times. I want to stop hurting the women I love, and fucking to be normal.”

Cade stilled. “You think we’re hurting Marly and Sarah?” Amusement struck his voice then, surprise glittering in his eyes.

“We share them, Cade…”

“And you don’t want to share Heather?” Cade asked without anger, with no recriminations.

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“Son of a bitch, I want it so bad I can nearly taste her fucking cries.” His fists clenched at his side.

“Why?” Cade crossed his arms over his chest. “If you think it’s going to hurt her, Sam, then why do you want it?”

He stopped. He felt every muscle in his body tighten in knowledge.

“She would love it,” he whispered. “She would be loved with everything I have.”

“Why would she love it?” Cade shook his head in irritation. “What the hell makes you think we’re hurting Marly or Sarah with this? Why the hell do you think they accept it, Sam? It’s not just for us. Don’t fool yourself. Marly and Sarah have more than other woman you will ever know, or so Marly assures me…”

“Marly has three men, devoted to her, loving her, always protecting her. She has the love of not just one man, but three. Three men who will love her until death. She has a love I need, Sam.”