Heather's Gift (Men of August 3)

“Chopper’s in the air,” Rick called out. “Stay put until we know where the hell it’s coming from. Goddammit, how the hell is he doing this?”

Heather struggled against Sam as he pressed her closer to the tree, his body a heavy weight behind her, an effective shield between her and any bullet that might cut through the darkness. The other agents surrounded them, guns drawn, watching the darkness with the night vision goggles attached to their faces.

“Stay still,” he growled as she struggled against him.

“Dammit, I’m supposed to be protecting you,” she hissed. “Let me move!”

“Listen to me.” His voice roughened, savagery reflecting so harshly in his tone that she automatically stilled. “You will not take a bullet for me, Heather. Do you understand me? You will not stand in front of me, you will not try to protect me, or so help me God, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Then he was gone. “Sam.” She cried out his name as he jerked from her and began pushing his way through the small garden. The bodyguards surrounded him as he stalked toward the house, rushing to provide a force of protection around him.

The agents scrambled to move around him, to place themselves where they could protect him as he pushed them roughly aside. Heather propped her hands on her hips and watched his furious face, breathing out thankfully when he made it into the relative protection of the house.

“Son of a bitch is going to get himself killed.” Rick stalked toward her. “Did you tell him that, Heather?”

She shrugged, fighting the rapid beat of her heart. She made certain her shirt was in place as she faced her boss, thankful she had managed to pull her jeans back on. Only God knew where her panties were.

“Does it do any good to tell him anything?” she bit out as she tucked her gun back in the holster. Glancing over the wall surrounding the pool, she checked the helicopter’s progress as its bright lights swept over the hill behind the house. “Where were those damned dogs? I thought they were patrolling the hill back there.”

“Not in the dark.” Rick shook his head sharply. “It’s just too damned dangerous for the animals and the men. It would be a hell of a lot easier if you could keep Sam’s ass in the house.”

“Me?” Incredulity rocked her system. “What in the hell makes everyone think that man listens to me?”

“He follows you around like a fucking buck during rut,” he snapped. “Don’t pretend he doesn’t. You have house duty from now on, no exceptions.”

Heather shook her head desperately. “Forget it. You know what goes in there at night, Rick. I’d get everyone killed. I’d never keep my mind on the job.”

For some reason the August men thought the family room was the place to fuck, rather than their bedrooms. She avoided that room at all costs. She avoided any room but her own until after everyone else had settled down for the night.

“Do what the rest of them do,” he snarled then. “Join the others in the kitchen for coffee or park your ass at the front or back door. I don’t fucking care which, but keep your ass in the house. That bastard gets his ass killed and Cade will kill us.”

“Why don’t I just go ahead and fuck him then?” Sarcasm laced her voice. “Hell, Rick, that would solve everything, wouldn’t it?”

“Damned right. And it’s not like you’re not itching to do it.” He faced her, anger tensing his body as bodyguards milled around them and the helicopter continued to search the hill behind the house. “I don’t give a damn how you keep yourself in the house, just fucking do it.”

She would have snapped back. Would have told him where the hell he could shove his orders if he hadn’t stalked off as her mouth opened to blast him. A growl of frustration broke past her lips as she barely restrained herself from stomping her foot in fury.

“Damn, Heather, I can’t believe you don’t want to guard that August hard body.” Amusement echoed in the female voice as a chuckle reached her ears.

Heather turned back again as she watched Helena approach her. She was still breathing hard, sweat gleaming on her face as her blue eyes regarded her with a laughing glint.

Heather shook her head as she took a deep, weary breath.

“Men should be outlawed,” she bit out. “Excuse me, Helena, I’m going to go see if I can find out if anyone, anywhere, has any idea what the hell happened to security tonight.”

Not that Heather had much hope for answers at this point. All she had was questions. The least of which, was how the hell the stalker had gotten on that damned hill without being spotted. And had he even been on the hill? That bullet had been too close, the aim too precise. Somehow, it wasn’t adding up.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Heather couldn’t forget her confrontation with Sam in the pool area the night before, or the stalker and how easily a bullet could have taken out the back of his head. Chills raced over her body each time she thought of it, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if Sam were killed, then the August family would be irreparably damaged. Until they all faced the past, there would be no true healing for any of them.

The three men had formed an exceptional bond together in their sharing, one Sam had denied all but once over the past months. He hadn’t gone to his brothers’ women, and his brooding anger had only intensified.

The conversation the night before between her and Sam wore at her suspicions regarding them all. She had noticed over the months the lengths the other men went to in protecting Sam, in keeping the memories carefully hidden. She had thought it had been a form of mercy. Their own memories were brutally clear, she believed. She had believed they hadn’t wanted that for him. But now she knew it had to go much deeper.

She knew Sam didn’t possess many memories of the time spent confined in his abuser’s basement. He knew what happened, he knew the pain, and he remembered clearly the first weeks there. But after that, she knew that many of the events were hazy.

Cade had not been very forthcoming with Rick on actual events. The notations in the files Rick made available to her the next day showed an incredible amount of frustration regarding the information he was given. It had taken nearly a year to track down anyone who could have known or seen any of the events that happened that summer. And it was taking even longer to track down the missing Jennings brother.