Heather's Gift (7 page)

“No matter what he says, try to stay closer to him. Stop letting him run you off.”

“Cade, I can’t make Sam do anything,” she said firmly as she pushed the fingers of both hands through her hair. “He doesn’t want me around.”

“But he does, Heather.” Marly turned to her then, her blue eyes soft, understanding. “That’s the problem. Sam wants you too badly.”

Heather snorted. “And you know this how?”

“Because it’s your name he cries out while he’s coming in her,” Cade growled as Marly rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Dammit, Marly, there’s no sense in beating around the damned bush here. If she doesn’t know by now, then she never will.”

“There’s no sense in being crude either,” Marly snapped back, frowning up at him with an edge of steel that surprised Heather.

Cade grimaced as he pushed his hands in his jeans pockets and looked away for several seconds. When his gaze returned, it was softer, apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “Marly’s right, there’s no excuse for that.”

“Cade, just because I’m aware of your lifestyle, doesn’t mean I agree with it.”

Heather crossed her arms over her breasts, watching him curiously. She had been more than aware of the speculation in both Cade and Brock’s expressions the few times she had caught them looking her way. It wasn’t lust, not in the normal sense. It was hard to put her finger on it. An emotion swirled in their eyes, affection definitely, but still, an undefined something. Sexual lust she could have understood. She saw it often when each man looked at his respective lover. But that unnamed emotion was there when they touched, or looked at each other’s lovers as well. The emotion Cade felt for Sarah, what Brock felt for Marly, and now, that same look was being shared with Heather. It was confusing, and often kept her awake long into the night as she tried to define it.

“Your approval isn’t what we’re asking for, Heather.” Marly’s voice chilled, her head raising proudly. “We’re asking you to stay closer to Sam. To attempt to temper his recklessness. Don’t pretend you don’t want him, just as he can’t pretend he doesn’t want you. Give him something besides the demons to concentrate on, if you truly love him as much as I suspect you do.”

Heather took a deep breath, her lips pressing together in irritation as she confronted Marly. She had rarely seen the other woman anything less than easygoing and smiling. This edge of finely tempered maturity she glimpsed in her was a surprise. Lora Leigh

Heather’s Gift

39

“And if you’re wrong, Marly?” she asked her softly, staring directly into the dark blue eyes that regarded her coolly. “What if it’s no more than lust? What then?”

Marly smiled, her expression softening, her eyes warming with compassion.

“We know Sam, Heather. He won’t be easy, because he cares. I can almost guarantee I’m not wrong.”

“Almost.” Heather shook her head roughly. “I can’t believe I’m about to trust my heart to an almost.”

Lora Leigh

Heather’s Gift

40

Chapter Nine

Heather knocked on Sam’s door softly before turning the knob and opening it slowly. “Sam?” She entered the bedroom, stepping slowly inside as she saw him standing at the window, staring into the distance, his body tense as she stood silently and watched him.

Their gazes met in the bulletproof glass. His hooded and dark, hers quiet and questioning. She wanted to go to him, to touch him, ease him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled. “Aren’t you on duty tonight?”

She bit her lip, fighting the pain his words caused.

“I remember when you used to sneak out and meet me wherever Rick had me stationed,” she said quietly, allowing the regret to sound through her voice. “What happened to that, Sam? We were friends. For a little while.”

He had always laughed when he found her, because he had managed to slip away from Rick and his men. Then he would tease her, those thickly lashed eyes lowered sensually as he watched her blush and her nipples harden.

“The first time he struck, we thought the stalker was Marly’s stepfather,” he said quietly. “When Jack Jennings tried to take her, we never questioned his ranting that someone else had contacted him, told him how to get to Marly. We couldn’t find Anna, so we’d assumed he finally got to her, and then came for Marly. We thought we were safe, that the past couldn’t touch us ever again.”

He turned to her then, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans, his expression lined with the bitterness of the years.

“We’ll find him, Sam,” she promised him softly. “There are three different agencies working on this, not to mention the law enforcement officials. We’ll catch him.”

He took a deep breath. “When Brock went after Sarah, we found out that the stalker hadn’t been caught after all,” he continued. “But still, we prayed our past wasn’t reaching out to dirty those two women any more than it already had. We thought we could survive, that we could catch him.” He swallowed tightly. “I thought I had a chance, a right to love, Heather, until he attacked you.”

Heather crossed her arms over her breasts and drew in a deep breath. She fought her tears, the blinding pain she felt each time she saw the brutal memories in Sam’s eyes.

“Sam, he’ll mess up soon…”

Lora Leigh

Heather’s Gift

41

He shook his head, cynicism washing over his face, his gaze hardening.

“Eventually, he will. When he does, he’s a dead man. But what if, Heather, what if he kills you? Or maims you so terribly you can never face life or love the same?”

It was a risk she was taking, and it terrified her. She knew enough of the August history to know what the August brothers had endured. Endless months of pain and brutality. A hell most men would have never survived.

“That’s a cop-out, Sam,” she whispered sadly. “You know you won’t stop him now. It won’t matter if you love me or hate me, if you fuck me or you revile me. The bastard will see me as your weakness. I’m still in danger.”

He flinched. A hard, sharp movement that tore at her heart as he turned away from her again.

“You don’t talk to me anymore,” she finally said moments later when he didn’t speak again. “I miss that, Sam. Just talking to you.”

She moved toward him, watching him watch her, seeing the bittersweet arousal that glittered in his eyes. He was furious. She could see it in every taut line of his body. Furious over the danger to his family, furious over his desire for her. She knew that much. Knew that the heat and fire that tore through her body was matched in his.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Heather,” he bit out, jerking the curtains close over the window before he turned to her. “What the fuck should I say, baby? What do you want me to do? Maybe, just fucking maybe, if I stay the hell away from you, he won’t hurt you again.” His voice was strangled. “Do you have any fucking idea what it did to me, to see you bleeding like that, then to see the fucking scars he left on you?”

“Well it wasn’t exactly a picnic for me, Sam.” The ire in her voice more than matched his, she made sure of it. “But do you think hiding from it is really going to help anything. You’re stalking around this damned house like an animal, growling at everyone and ready to fight at any opportunity. How does that help?”

“And what do you suggest instead?” he asked her bitterly. “Do you think fucking you is going to stop it, Heather? That I’ll turn into some little tame pussycat that you can stroke and cuddle with when you need to? Goddammit, what kind of freakin’ fairy tale are you living in?”

His rage cut through her like a knife, cutting into her soul, wounding her not with his words, but with the pain that creased his expression.

“Definitely not yours,” she yelled back. “Because yours is nothing but a damned pity party and a lot of hot, bitter looks. You’re going to get yourself killed, Sam. Dead. The bastard will kill you, and he’ll kill your family with your death. Is that what you really want?”

He stilled, the muscles in his jaw working furiously as he stared back at her.

“Keeping you safe is not a damned pity party,” he growled. Lora Leigh

Heather’s Gift

42

“What about your family?” she snapped back. “You ran out of here the other night and refused to tell anyone you were even leaving, and walked right into a murder. That’s not a man whose only thought is protecting his family.”

Something flashed in his eyes. There, then gone. A knowledge of something he was clearly keeping hidden. Over the past year Heather had come to know Sam better than he was aware. She knew when he was hiding something, when he was fighting his own desires, and when he was lying. He was hiding something, something important.

“What happened, Sam?” she asked suspiciously. “What did Tate say when he called?”

His look was brooding, intent, as he watched her.

“Sam?”

“He just asked me to meet him.” He crossed his arms over his chest, challenging her to prove otherwise.

“You’re lying to me, Sam.” It tore at her heart, because she had seen him hide from others, but never her. Not until now. “What happened?”

“Heather.” The gentleness in his voice had her breath catching in need, in fear. She watched him silently as he came to her. Tall and broad and so sexy he nearly mesmerized her. And sad. So very sad it tore at her soul. He stopped in front of her, his fingers reaching out to touch her cheek and she watched the small flush of arousal that heated his face.

“Sam, what happened?” He was frightening her, terrifying her with his recklessness.

“Nothing that can hurt you or me, baby. Not anymore,” he promised her. “He can’t hurt anyone now. And I can’t say I’m not glad to see his ass gone. But you’re right, it was stupid to run out like that. It won’t happen again.”

She started to question him further, her suspicions sitting tight and hard in her stomach, when a sharp rap sounded at the door.

“Sam, we need you out here,” Tara called impatiently. “And if Heather’s with you, tell her she’s supposed to be on duty, not entertaining the resident stud.”

Sam frowned toward the door. “One day,” he sighed. “I’m going to give that woman something to bitch about.” He looked down at her again and shook his head.

“Well hell, babe, your babysitter just found you. We may as well go.”

Heather followed him from the room, but nothing could still the cold chill of premonition. The feeling that whatever he was hiding was more important than even he knew.

Lora Leigh

Heather’s Gift

43

Chapter Ten

Several hours later, the house went on alert with the arrival of Rick’s helicopter on the August landing pad. The family gathered around the large dining table where the women sat in tense silence, and the men with a brooding anger that set everyone’s nerves on edge.

Heather stood propped against the wall across from where Sam sat, watching him closely. His expression was closed, that edge of barely contained violence glittering in his eyes once again.

The investigation into the family of the man who had tortured the three brothers didn’t set well with them. Cade especially was furious over it. The bastard was dead, he had informed them all. There was no sense in trying to resurrect a damned ghost. But Rick, like Tara and Heather, believed it was all connected. The letter Marly had received after the second failed attempt on Sarah’s life proved that, even if the brothers didn’t want to face it. The poetry style letter worried and concerned her. Her friend Greg had often left her letters written in such a style.

Marly was insistent that Greg would have never tried to hurt her. That he wouldn’t have been able to take those pictures while he was at the ranch the year before last, and Sam was inclined to agree. Greg was an intense young man, but he wasn’t a stalker, or a killer. To be assured of this, Cade had secretly had his scholarship moved to an Eastern college where one of Rick’s men had befriended the boy. He hadn’t moved from the area since, which eliminated him as a suspect.

“Okay, boys and girls, we have a lead.” Rick stepped into the dining room carrying a thick manila folder in one hand. On his hip, he had strapped his pistol, a precautionary measure all the bodyguards had taken after Mark Tate’s death.

“Rick.” Cade stood to his feet. “We’ll take this into the office.”

“Like hell you will.” Marly stood, anger vibrating through her voice. “This involves all of us, Cade.”

The family was standing now, the women’s expressions protesting, angry, the brothers’ bleak and savage. Rick faced the group, his face showing his exhaustion, his eyes his sorrow.

“Marly.” Heather watched as Sam touched Marly’s arm, drawing her attention to him. “Cade will tell you the details later. Let us take care of this, Munchkin, for now.”

Heather couldn’t see enough of Sam’s expression to know what Marly saw there. Her face tightened in pain, and tears came to her eyes. She turned back to Cade. His expression Heather could clearly see. A man tormented, tortured. He couldn’t even look his lover in the eye.

Lora Leigh

Heather’s Gift

44

“Cade. I love you,” Marly whispered deeply, and if Heather had ever doubted the woman’s love for the surly rancher, she didn’t doubt it anymore. “You can’t hide this forever.”

Marly’s voice was filled with pain, anger, and helplessness. She touched Cade’s cheek unselfconsciously, aware that everyone watched the display. When Cade looked down at Marly, Heather’s heart clenched in pain for him. His emotions were dark, and so painful it broke her heart. She wondered how Marly bore the pain.

“Not yet.” He shook his head, the bitterness of his rage echoing in his voice. “Not yet, Marly.”

“Fine.” She nodded, her voice lowering, her expression tightening in anger. “When you’re ready to trust me, Cade, just let me know. Maybe I’ll still be ready to listen.”

She ignored the rough protest in his voice as she left the table and rushed from the room. Heather couldn’t say she blamed the other woman at all.

“I’ll talk to her,” Sarah whispered, looking up as Brock leaned to her. His arms went around her in a tight hug, his lips pressing to her forehead as his face twisted with his pain.