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Sarah sat on the couch, her arms wrapped around her waist as she rocked silently, her head lowered as tears fell to her lap.
“Sarah, baby. Sarah please…” Brock went to his knees, his hand touching her cheek. “Please, let me take care of this.”
“No. I’m okay. I’m ok…” Her voice broke as she seemed to heave sickeningly.
Sam cursed silently as he turned away from the sight. He was no better than Martinez. He shook in the grip of his rage, the twisting images, the sudden sight of bloody hands pushing him to his limits until he had no care for who his words sliced into.
“God. Sam.” Martinez drew in a ragged breath as he nearly collapsed in the chair that sat to his side. “God damn.”
The blood had drained from his face as he stared at Brock and Sarah, seeing their pain, the ravages the past was causing. He shook his head again.
“Coroner has filed his report,” he said bleakly. “You’re cleared of Tate’s murder, but whoever was with him…” He shook his head. “If they have pictures, Sam…”
“Then the bastard would have used them,” Sam bit out. “I appreciate your help, Joshua. But I have to say, you’ve caused a hell of a lot more harm than you did anything else. Why don’t you get the hell out of here until we can figure out what to do.”
Joshua frowned, his eyes narrowing. “You think those women are too weak for this, Sam?”
“No.” Sam shook his head, pain rioting through his body. “I think they’re too damned strong for all of us. Just go, Josh. Just get the fuck out of here so we can deal with it now.”
“It’s not over, Sam.” The other man stood slowly to his feet. “Whoever the bastard is, he’s killed now. None of you are safe. He’s losing control.”
“So am I, Josh. Let me assure you of that. So am I.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Heather knocked timidly on Marly’s bedroom door. She had heard her and Sarah both caustically ordering their lovers from their rooms. She had seen the bleak pain in all three men when they returned to the family room and headed for the whisky.
She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Couldn’t believe their pain and their need was affecting her to this point.
“Cade, go away.” The door jerked opened.
Heather stood before the other woman warily, nervously, as she smoothed her hands over her jeans-clad hips.
“Oh. Heather.” Marly’s tear-drenched eyes widened in surprise. “Come in. You can help me plot Cade’s murder.”
Heather eased into the room, glanced at Sarah then cleared her throat.
“I’d rather you two help me plot something a bit more pleasurable.” She felt her face flush.
Heather blinked in surprise as Sarah rose slowly to her feet.
“You’re going to them?” Marly asked her in amazement.
Heather could feel her heart pounding out of control, fear, arousal and need clamoring through her body. “Sam, he’s…” She swallowed tightly. “He’s hurting. Bad, Marly. And the others…”
“They hurt just as badly,” Marly said softly, sighing. “None of them deserve it, you know.” She frowned sternly.
Heather took a deep breath. She could feel small tingles of electricity moving along the nape of her neck, her scalp. Her body felt warm, yet chilled, and her pussy was drenched at the thought of what was coming. If she could keep her nerve up.
“Damn, this could get embarrassing,” she sighed, pushing her fingers restlessly through her hair.
“Why are you doing it, Heather?” Sarah stepped forward then. “If it’s just for Sam, you’ll never accept it. You’ll never enjoy it.”
She swallowed tightly. “Brock is pacing, and I can see the tension, the pain in his eyes. He’s hurting for them, and doesn’t know how to help. Cade is tortured. Sam’s starting to remember and he knows it, and he can’t stand it. Sam…” She licked her lips as she fought the conflicting emotions inside her heart. “Sam is almost broken, Sarah.”
“Not good enough, Heather,” Marly whispered gently. “I won’t give you my permission, or my help in fucking the man I love with such a flimsy excuse.”
Heather frowned. “You knew it was coming,” she accused her.
