Heather's Gift (28 page)

“Let her go!” Anna screamed, the barrel of the gun homing in on him.

“Pull the fucking trigger, bitch,” he yelled, turning back to her, fury marking his face. “Do you think I’ll let you have her? Let you close enough to hurt her? You’re crazier than Marcelle was if that’s what you think.”

Anna blinked. “She’s not your woman, Sam. I could take Heather instead. She’ll be out of here in a minute,” she sneered. “Would she trade herself for you, I wonder?”

Sam snarled and glanced at Brock. His brother moved closer to the bedroom door just in case. “Brock will protect her, Anna. The same as I’ll protect Marly.”

“And if you die?” she screeched. “I’ll kill you, Sam.”

“You won’t get Marly before Brock gets you, Anna,” he warned her. “Either way you go, one of us will get you.”

“And one of you will die,” she spat out. “What then, Sammy?”

“Then the other will protect what’s his, Anna,” Brock spoke for him. “The same as we protected what was yours when you brought her to us. Family, Anna. We protect each other.”

“Protect!” She growled the word. “You dirtied my baby. You made her your whore, the same as Jack and Reggie tried to make me. You raped my baby and you made her accept you. Monsters, just like they were.”

“Momma, no!” Marly cried out, tears thickening her voice, pain echoing in it.

“What are you doing? Why would you do this?”

Anna paused. She stared at Sam, then at Marly as she fought to see around Sam’s wider body. “Because they destroyed it all, baby,” she whispered gently. “Don’t you understand? I gave Marcelle Sam. It was my idea, honey, so he would make Reggie and Jack leave you alone. Don’t you remember your daddy, baby? Always wanting to touch you, to cuddle you.” Anna shuddered. “And Sam ruined it. He ruined it all in a way that made me lose you. I had to let you go until I could find a way to destroy them. To keep them from you.”

Marly cried out in pain behind him as he held her close, feeling her body sag against the wall.

“No,” she cried out. “Please, no.”

“Marly, you don’t understand.” Anna shook her head, her eyes glittering with demonic fervor. “He protected us, baby. All he needed was Sammy. But Sam had to go and hit him and piss him off, and then Cade and Brock hit him. They had to pay, baby. Jedediah was a great man, Marly. Hell, they deserved it; even then the bastards shared their stupid girlfriends. Perverts. They all were.”

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“He nearly killed Cade,” Marly screamed out in pain, fighting Sam harder now.

“Damn you. Damn you. You’re not my mother. Never. Never, by God, will I know you as my mother.” She kicked at Sam’s legs, clawed at his arms, fighting to be free as voices began to raise the alarm downstairs and Cade came barreling up the stairs.

“Fuck. Anna.” He slid to a stop beside Sam, confusion marking his features as he stared at the gun and the wild-eyed woman waving it.

“Well, there he is,” Anna snarled viciously. “Big brother. Ever tell your lover how often you fucked your brothers, Cade? Or how many times they fucked you? Since we’re all here, maybe we oughta just reminisce for a while.” Gleeful laughter echoed in the air for a brutal, agonizing second before the shot was fired. Lora Leigh

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Chapter Thirty-Nine

“I hate stupid people.” Sam watched in shock as Heather stepped from his room, fully dressed, her revolver held carefully in front of her as she stared at the fallen woman.

Silence reigned for long seconds, then rushing feet as Tara and Rick and nearly two dozen body guards ran upstairs.

“Call an ambulance, Tara,” Heather barked out the order roughly. “She’s not dead, but she’s not in good shape.

“Momma.” It was Marly’s broken, tear-filled voice that drew their eyes from the scene of the bleeding, unconscious woman slumped along the wall. She moved slowly from behind Sam. Her eyes were wide, dazed as Cade caught her slight body in his arms.

“Keep her back, Cade,” Rick ordered abruptly as he knelt in front of Anna. “Damn, it was Helena,” he whispered again.

“Her name’s Anna. She’s Marly’s mother,” Cade bit out.

“Explains why she refused house duty and night shifts. She couldn’t take the chance that any of you would see her.” Tara knelt beside the fallen woman. “I allowed it, because she seemed so quiet, so sad.”

Rick shook his head. “She signed on with the agency a few years back, when we worked on the Stewart case. She worked with us off and on after that until we came here. She had perfect papers under the name Helena Doraga.”

“That was Grandmother’s maiden name,” Marly whispered, her voice hoarse. “She was going to kill Sam. She tried to kill Sarah.” She looked across the room to where Sarah watched the scene in amazement.

“Munchkin.” Sam touched her cheek as Cade held her upright. “This wasn’t your mother, baby. Not this woman.”

Sam saw the tears that rolled down her cheeks, saw Cade’s bitter helplessness in his eyes. The rage was gone from his brother’s face though. The dark, grief stricken anger that had lingered there for years was missing. Sam realized since finding Marly, his brother had slowly come to terms with the past.

He turned back to Heather, arching a brow sardonically as she tucked the pistol in its holster behind her hip. “Hey, Hot Stuff,” he growled. “I was supposed to be protecting you.”

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He moved to her, jerking her into his arms, his lips covering hers in a kiss of thanksgiving, of joy. Her lips opened to him, her arms tightening around his shoulders as her breath hitched in her chest.

Pulling back, he stared into her damp eyes. “What?” He frowned down at her.

“Don’t even think about leaving me, Heather. I won’t let you go.”

“Leaving you?” she questioned him roughly, her green eyes sparkling with her tears. “Sam, I was terrified. Completely terrified. You would have let that evil woman kill you. I know you would have. You walked right out of our room like a fucking sacrifice.” Her fist bounced on his upper arm as she struck him harshly. “Damn you. You know better than that.”

Sam laughed. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t stem the happiness overflowing inside his soul. “Oh no, baby. The minute I had her outside she was done for. I would have come back, Heather. I wouldn’t, couldn’t let you go, baby.”

He held her close again, her slight weight enfolded in his arms as Sam looked over her head to Brock. He had stood before the door, knowing what would happen if Heather walked out unwarily. He had covered the slight crack she had made when opening it, had eased aside for the gunshot. But he had stood there, protecting her, ensuring her life. The same as he had protected Marly. Rick’s men applied first aid to Anna, prepped her for the ambulance and moved her quickly downstairs as Cade and Marly followed. It would be hard on Marly, he knew. Her gentle heart, her dreams of her mother returning, were shattered forever. But she wasn’t alone. And she never would be.

“I owe you a bath,” Sam whispered into Heather’s still damp hair. “A bath and a lovin’. Think you can handle me?”

She snorted tearfully. “You and two more just like you…” She paused. “Well, maybe we’ll wait to try that one again.”

Sam chuckled, held her closer and drew her slowly into their room. The past was over. There were still questions that needed to be answered, and he knew his returning memories wouldn’t be easy on any of them. But the demons were gone. The fears were laid to rest and his life stretched out before him now, devoid of the loneliness, of the bleak, desperate pain. And Heather’s gift of love had healed those raw, aching wounds in his soul. Her acceptance, her love. The gift of her heart to them all. Lora Leigh

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Chapter Forty

Several weeks later, Sam sat alone in the dark shadows of the family room, staring out at the night through the glass doors. The bodyguards were gone. The house was silent, safe again. It had been so long since they had all felt safe. Twelve years to be exact. In the past weeks, Sam had realized how oppressive the memories of the abuse had been, how the repression of them had affected his own life. Slowly, the memories had returned. Bleak, filled with pain, shame, and finally a resigned acceptance.

It happened, we survived it. Doesn’t matter how we survived it, Sam, we did. And we’re
healing, that’s all that matters.
Brock’s quiet words not too long ago had slowly made sense to him. With Heather’s help, with her smart mouth, her take-charge tone and her sweet loving, he had finally found a measure of acceptance and peace.

“Sam?” He turned as Heather’s soft voice questioned him from the doorway. She walked into the room, her slender body covered by an almost sheer silk nightie that fell only as far as her thighs.

“You should be sleeping.” He wrapped his arms around her as she came to him. The sweet scent of her perfume went to his head; the feel of her slender body sent a surge of lust through his cock. He would never get enough of her. No matter how many times he had her.

“You weren’t in bed with me.” She snuggled into his arms, a little drowsy as he sat down in the chair at his side and pulled her into his lap.

“I was just thinking.” He kept his voice quiet as he spoke, relishing the soft intimacy of holding her like this.

The past weeks had been rife with confusion, with Marly’s shattered dreams of her mother and Anna’s eventual burial. Heather’s bullet hadn’t killed her, but her own twisted hatred had. She had died in her attempt to escape the hospital and come after the Augusts once again. After tricking her guard and stealing his gun, she had been stopped as she slipped down the hallway. A police officer’s bullet had stopped her after she had fired on him.

“Remembering?” she asked gently.

Sam smoothed his hand over her silky hair, enjoying the feel of it against his palm.

“Questioning maybe,” he sighed. “Accepting.”

She was quiet for long moments. Finally she sighed deeply, her lips pressing against his bare chest.

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“And have you accepted?” she asked him, moving, turning her body until she faced him, her legs spread across his, the heat of her cunt settling against the strength of the erection straining beneath his sweat pants.

Sam laid his forehead against hers, staring into her eyes, a grin edging his mouth. She wasn’t going to baby him, nor would she pamper to the memories. She was tough as nails, and refused to let him blame himself, or wallow in the pain of the past. Not that he had any intentions of doing it. Remembering was easier than forgetting, and acceptance had slowly settled over him.

“Would you let me do otherwise?” he asked her as he kissed her pert nose gently. She snorted. “Like I can control you. You do what you want, Sam. I’ve always known that.”

He shook his head, leaning his head back on the high rest of the chair as he stared at her. Yeah, he did what he wanted. And all he wanted in life was to love this woman. To give her more pleasure than she could bear, to make her life as smooth as possible. Which reminded him…

“What were you doing cooking tonight? I swear, next time I have to wait on the three of you to clean the mess up before I can take you to bed, I’m going to paddle your butt.”

“Hmm.” She arched a brow suggestively. “Sounds like fun. Wanna go for it now?”

He frowned fiercely. “We could have gone out to eat, Heather. You didn’t have to cook.”

“I’m tired of eating out.” She smoothed her hands over his chest, her nails biting lightly at his skin. “Make Cade hire a housekeeper if you want to help.”

He snorted. “She would run off the first time she heard us all fucking in here. Damned prudes.”

“We have bedrooms,” she chuckled, the sound soft, husky with desire.

“Uh uh.” Sam shook his head firmly. “In here. It’s good in here, Heather. All of us together, loving, laughing. The bedroom wouldn’t be the same.”

The openness of the family room, the feeling of freedom, of acceptance, wouldn’t be the same in any other room, he thought, not for those occasions. Not that he wasn’t prone to take any of the three women in whatever room he caught them in. He was. But those nights when all their desires converged, and the sharing became heated, intense, drawing screams of pleasure, pleas for release, the family room couldn’t be replaced.

“Pervert.” She rocked against his cock, her wet pussy moistening his pants.

“Nympho,” he whispered back. “You’ve been fucked senseless today, and you still want more.”

The women were damned picky. Cycling weeks they were off limits, and this was Sarah’s and Marly’s week. Damned women seemed to be slowly moving to a matching schedule. It was worrisome. But Heather had been left the lone woman out for the past few days. Cade and Brock had kept her busy.

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He shivered as he remembered walking into the kitchen from the barn that morning, seeing her sitting on Cade’s lap, her back to his chest, her pretty cunt dripping as his fingers tunneled into it. Cade’s cock had been buried hard and deep up her ass as he pushed her into orgasm. The sight of it had been so damned erotic he had nearly come in his jeans at the time. With her big green eyes watching him, helpless, overwhelming pleasure filling her face, he had thought his cock would explode. Then later that afternoon as she lay by the pool, Brock had oiled every inch of her skin with a thick layer of tanning oil before turning her to her stomach and fucking her through more than one orgasm. She had slept the rest of the evening; he grinned at the thought.

“I always want you, Sam,” she said as her lips moved to his neck, her teeth rasping against his skin. “I could keep you buried inside me forever.”

Her hands moved between them to pull at his pants. Sam lifted his hips, helping her to pull the sweat pants down his thighs, releasing the thick length of his cock. She whimpered as he positioned himself and began to ease into the ultra tight depths of her body.

“Damn.” His fingers clasped the full globes of her rear, separating them until he could feel the base of the plug she had inserted.