Heather's Gift (Men of August 3)

Heather stayed quiet. Sam led her into the room and she didn’t balk. Dillon looked like a man on a mission, and evidently his sister wasn’t the entire mission.

“I talked to the sheriff, earlier.” Dillon poured himself a stiff drink as the door closed behind Sam and Heather. “I found out about Tate and the explosion from him. But what they don’t know, and one of my hands told me, was that Tate had a friend. They aren’t certain who. One who knew quite a bit about your family and the situation here. One who promised Tate some interesting information.”

“How do you know about this?” Cade asked him, his voice dark, warning.

“Tate liked to talk when he drank, Cade. He told a lot of people he would have some interesting pictures soon. Pictures of the August men…” He paused, his jaw bunching as he glanced at his sister. “Explicit pictures from twelve years ago.”

Tension thickened in the room.

“If he had them, the sheriff would have found them,” Cade pointed out logically as he glanced at the others in the room. “Whoever’s behind this was using the bastard.”

“But he told a lot of men, Cade. Men who wouldn’t mind watching you fall. And he hinted that the person with the information was right under your nose.”

A pin drop would have echoed in the room, the silence was so thick, as all eyes turned to Heather.

“No.” She shook her head, feeling her hair swish against Sam’s chest as his arms went around her again. “Rick hand-picked this team. It has to be one of the cowboys.”

“It could be anyone,” Cade murmured.

“Cade, Rick needs to know about this,” Heather said firmly, as he watched her intently. “If there’s even a chance it could be one of his men, he needs to know.”

He drew in a deep, hard breath before nodding abruptly. “You’re right. But just Rick, Heather. And you better get ready to spend a hell of a lot more time with Sam than you have been so far.”

Chapter Fifteen

They ran a ranch. Fences needed mending, cattle needed to be moved, horses needed shoeing and stables to be cleaned. Hay was being baled in preparation to stack within the barns and a thousand other details that needed to be taken care of. Days went by with no news, and no report of strangers or otherwise unusual occurrences. Sam was losing patience and control. Heather was with him damned near every second of every day and Rick watched him like a hawk.

The pressure was starting to get to all of them. He was sniping at Cade and Brock, and caught himself just short of sniping at Heather. He needed her too bad. The ache to touch her, taste her, was about to drive him crazy.

Sam knew Cade and Brock were chafing at the restrictions being placed on them within the house as well. They were all damned tired of stalking the confining, if comfortable rooms, and waiting on something that never came. Sam knew if he didn’t get away from it, he was going to snap. He needed to be outside where he could feel the breeze, taste freedom. Where he wasn?

?t haunted by nightmares, or Heather’s arousing scent.

The nightmares that haunted them all were growing worse for him. He never truly remembered them, but the terror that filled him when he awoke was damned near as sharp as that of the first rape…

He shuddered, pulling on thick leather gloves as he closed his mind to the thought. He gave his head a hard shake, then narrowed his eyes as he realized he was no longer alone in the stables. He turned his head slowly and there she was.

Damn, he’d been praying he could avoid her. At least for today. She was dressed in snug jeans with what was obviously a pair of child’s chaps belted around her lean hips, a tan tank top and well-worn boots. He wanted to strip her and fuck her until she couldn’t tempt him anymore. He wondered if he could ever take her enough to reach that point.

“Tell Rick to assign someone else,” he bit out sharply as she pulled a pair of dainty leather working gloves from her back pocket and started to pull them on.

“Don’t worry, cowboy, I know how to saddle my own horse, and how to ride it.” She smiled cheekily. “Do I look good in the chaps? I always wanted to wear a pair.”

She would look damned good in nothing but the chaps. He narrowed his eyes, imagining it, imagining her, bare except for leather chaps and his cock plowing between her thighs. He clenched his teeth, fighting for control.

“Wear ‘em somewhere else,” he bit out, tightening the cinch on his horse’s saddle. “I don’t have time to wait on you, Heather.”

“Well you better, big boy.” She strolled casually to one of the stalls, loosening the gate and clipping a lead to the horse it contained. “I’m your babysitter today, sweetcakes. Ride out without me, and one of the boys will put a tranquilizer in your ass. Cade’s already given them permission, by the way.”

He snarled in fury. Like he wasn’t well aware of what Cade had fucking done. Goddammit, he wasn’t a child any longer to be protected by the other two and he was getting sick of being treated like one. He was two years younger than Cade, not two years old.

He started to speak when he saw her click the small comm. link over her head, attaching the tiny speaker to her ear, the mic wand extending to her cheek.

“Two to ride, whose check?” Her voice was low as she tested the device. She glanced at him with a mischievous glitter in her eyes. “Oh boy. Sis is playing watchdog on us. There goes our fun, cowboy.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes as he watched her check her gun, the loaded clip, and the spares that she tucked into her saddlebag. The automatic pistol was tucked back into the holster behind her hip, and still, she was listening to whatever orders were coming through that damned comm. link.

“Tell Tara to assign someone else,” he said again, his voice louder this time. “Now.”