Heather's Gift (Men of August 3)

“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.

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.

“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.

“Thanks, babe,” Brock whispered so low that Heather barely heard him, despite the fact that she stood only a few feet from him. “I’ll be up when we’re done.”

When he released her, he touched her hair, then watched as she turned away and headed for the stairs.

“Can we get started now?” Rick asked, laying the folder down on the table.