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“For now it is, Sam,” she sighed, watching him warily. “Maybe we can talk later.”
“Talk isn’t exactly what I have in mind,” he bit out as he j
umped from the van. “And next time, I’ll make sure Big Sis here is locked out.”
He flashed Tara a hard look before stomping away from the van and the woman slowly driving him to complete madness with his lust for her. His cock throbbed painfully, his veins pounded with the surge of blood. His mind was a mess though, and he knew it. Memories, dark and fragmented, stirred within him as he navigated the dark landscape around the house. Damn her, he cursed. Damn her to hell for making him feel and in turn, for making him remember.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Sarah stared out in the darkness, sitting quietly on the patio, watching the pool ripple beneath the faint light of the moon. The evening’s events played through her mind, the reality of it finally sinking in. A mad man stalked her because she slept with one of the August men. She sighed. The last damned time she decided on a one-night stand. This one seemed never ending.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” Sam stood in the shadows of the patio, watching her, the moonlight casting a pale, eerie glow over his face. He looked tortured, tormented, not the easygoing cowboy she had glimpsed before.
“Doesn’t look like I am any longer.” She sat back in the padded chair, her feet propped on an ironwork planter filled with blooming moonflowers. The sweet scent washed over her, adding a breath of sensuality to the air.
Sam moved forward, roughly masculine in jeans and boots, a T-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders and flat stomach.
“You should go back in.” He hunched down by her chair, in front of her, too close for comfort. He looked too much like Brock and the sexual interest in his eyes was much too heavy. “It’s safer inside, Sarah.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it,” she sighed, watching him carefully.
Would it matter where she was, she wondered. The brothers seemed to surround her. Their eyes shadowed, their expressions more relaxed than she had ever seen, yet the marks of the past were still there. The faint lines of bitterness alongside sensual lips, on their broad, sun-darkened foreheads. Worry and pain had scarred them in more ways than one.
“You act like I’m going to attack you.” Sam smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t do that, Sarah. Brock would kill me if I tried.”
“But you want to.” Her heart sped up. There was something about Sam that didn’t mesh with the laughter and amusement he usually portrayed to the world.
“No, Sarah.” He shook his head, his voice gentle. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
There was weariness in his voice, the same sadness the others carried. He lowered his head, then glanced back up at her. The smile was back in place.
“Too late,” she told him softly.
He shook his head. His hand reached out, running over her smooth ankle before she could jerk away from him. The touch left a fiery impression that unsettled her.
“You remind me of a friend,” he said regretfully. “A very good friend, Sarah. She’s easy to talk to. Easy to be open with.”
“Then why aren’t you with her, Sam?” she asked him, wrapping her arms across her breasts. “Why are you here?”
“Because I owe them,” he whispered. “I owe them everything, Sarah, including my life.”
“What about your happiness?” She tilted her head, watching as a finger ran softly over the side of her sandal.
“If they want it.” He shrugged.
“What about what you want?”
“I want to know my brothers love me again,” he whispered darkly, secretively. “I want to know some demon from hell didn’t take it all, Sarah. I want to lie with you, touch you, see Brock watching me take you and know he loves me. The same as I do with Marly. I want to find my way out of hell, if only for a little while.”
Sarah’s heart clenched. Her hand covered her mouth, she didn’t jerk away this time when his fingers circled her ankle. She did nothing to wipe away the tear that drifted down her cheek.
Sam seemed more than surprised by that bit of moisture. A finger moved, lifted the drop from her cheek. He looked at it, seeing the glistening dew settled on the tip of his finger.
“I haven’t cried in over twelve years, Sarah, and no one else has cried for me.” He looked in her eyes, and Sarah knew if this man didn’t cry soon, then there would be no hope for him. Cade and Brock would lose a part of their souls as well.
“Sam.” She shook her head, hating the pain she saw in his eyes. “This doesn’t work for you.”
“For a little while it does, Sarah,” he told her, his voice rough. “It works for a while. For as long as I can forget that I’m the cause of it. That my brothers knew hell because of me. Will you help me forget?”
