Heather's Gift (Men of August 3)

“You should have kept the family out of it, Josh.” His voice resonated with a fury he couldn’t contain. “They didn’t have to hear that.”

“Goddammit, Sam.” Cade’s voice sounded shattered, echoing eerily within his head. I did it, Sam! He wanted to shake his head, to rip the shattered words from his head, along with the memories so shadowy and twisted that he couldn’t make sense of them. “Why the hell did you leave the fucking house? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was me he called.” He kept his voice low as he continued to watch Martinez. “I would have taken care of it.”

“We’re a family, Sam,” Brock reminded him, his voice tortured.

Sam glanced at him, seeing how Sarah hid her face against his chest. In shame? Did she regret now, allowing him to touch her, to dirty her? Hatred blazed through his mind as he leveled his stare back at the sheriff.

“The only thing that saved your ass from an arrest warrant was the fact that forensics proved Tate was bludgeoned to death with a baseball bat. So hard, in fact, that wood splinters were found in the remains of the body. The coroners had also found traces of a strong narcotic in the battered internal organs.” His eyes narrowed then. “If that wasn’t bad enough, someone tried to mess with the results at the coroner’s office. Luckily, it was discovered. Computer records can be a chancy thing, and old Doc Harper doesn’t like them much. His notes were handwritten rather than recorded and transcribed. It appears to me that this is a family problem, Sam. You’re being framed, and it looks like there’s more than one murder here to solve.”

“There’s about to be three.” He stared at Martinez, his teeth drawn back in a snarl he couldn’t contain.

“Sam.” Heather’s hand covered the fist at his side as she moved closer, blocking him, should he try to move.

He stared down at her, his body tensing, expecting disgust, hatred. What he saw tore into his soul with the force of a knife through unprotected flesh. Tears welled in her eyes, soft understanding shining beneath them.

“Sam, Martinez might think you’re serious rather than angry,” she said with a smile, yet a warning look. “Sheriffs get serious about death threats, darling.”

She moved against his chest, staring up at him, beseeching. An anchor in the storm brewing in him. His arms went around her, terrified if he didn’t hold onto something or someone, then he would be sucked into the growing shadows of his own mind.

“Cade. Did Tate have pictures?” Joshua moved farther into the room then, and Sam watched as the other man stared at the oldest August brother. “There’s rumors he was getting them. That he had proof against the three of you.”

“Of what, Josh?” Cade was cold, his voice soft, menacing. “You have unexplained deaths?”

Joshua’s gaze was cynical, knowing, as he glanced at Cade before allowing the look to encompass the rest of the occupants in the room.

“No.” Josh shook his head. “All I have is an unrecorded phone call to the sheriff’s department by someone who went to great pains to disguise their voice. I heard quite a detailed account of a murder in Utah twelve years ago.”

A muscle jumped in Cade’s jaw, and Sam saw the fury that flared in his brother’s eyes.

“Marly…” Cade whispered her name on a sigh.

“No, damn you.” She thumped his chest where she rested against it, and Sam could hear her the desperate battle against the tears inside her. “I won’t leave. Not again, Cade August. I won’t let you face this alone. I won’t.”

Sam’s arms tightened on Heather then. He couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t let her leave. God help him, if she didn’t hold onto him, he didn’t know what he would do to the bastard destroying them.

“I’m staying, too.” Sarah turned in Brock’s arms. Her expression was tormented, filled with knowledge and pain. “We’re a part of this, Cade. All of us. It’s not just you and your brothers anymore. No more hiding.”

“Damn you, Martinez, why didn’t you just shoot us and be done with it?” Sam bit out furiously, as he released Heather and raked his fingers through his hair. “It would have been more humane than this. I’ll be damned if I’ll stand here and listen to you destroy my family.”

He moved for the door.

“Sam, you walk out that door and I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice and suspicion of murder. I’ll lock you up so fast it will make your head spin.”

Sam stopped. The memory of the jail cell was fresh in his mind. The memories of another cell were far clearer. He turned back slowly.

“You’ll have to kill me first, Josh. Can you do that?” Sam clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the betraying memories welling inside him. They had fought so many years to forget, and now it was being ground in their faces in a way they could never ignore, nor escape.

“Goddamn, Martinez,” Brock cursed. “Let him go. We can handle this.”

Something inside Sam stilled. He looked at his brothers, seeing desperation and a foreboding fear. He couldn’t fight the suspicions any longer, no matter how desperately he needed to. “Protecting me again, Brock?” he asked his brother carefully.

Cade shook his head at the other brother, a clear warning in his eyes as Brock stared to speak. Sam advanced back into the room. He looked at Heather; saw her worry, her concern. Rick was observant as always, while Tara watched them all with an edge of sympathy.

“What makes you think we know anything about Utah?” Sam asked him softly. “This is Texas, Josh.”

“And Marly’s uncle was Jedediah Marcelle. He was killed in Utah twelve years ago by an apparent house fire. Coroner’s report suspected he was dead before the blaze. Her natural father, Reginald Jennings barely escaped…”