“It would mean good meals,” she pointed out. “Something besides sandwiches and soup, or steaks and sausage biscuits.”
“We don’t have time to cook.” Cade shook his head.
Heather looked at Sarah. Why the hell weren’t she and Marly cooking?
“Don’t look at me, I can barely boil soup. And Marly’s worse.” She laughed as she sat sideways in her chair, her back braced against Brock’s chest.
“What do you do when you get tired of soup, sandwiches and steaks?” She shook her head in bemusement. She felt as though she were starving to death.
“We go out.” Cade shrugged. “Usually, that is. Remind me to kill that bastard twice for the food we’re missing out on.”
Death iced his words. Heather turned to him slowly, seeing the cold, hard menace in his voice.
“You won’t kill anyone, Cade. We’ll catch him, and take him in. That simple.”
“Nice dream world you live in, Heather.” He leaned his elbows on the table and watched her mockingly.
“Do you think I’ll let him live after I get my hands on him? He shot Sarah; he scarred you. He’ll die for it.”
She turned to Sam and saw the same cold purpose in his face, then in Brock’s as well.
“That’s murder, Cade,” she whispered.
“It won’t be the first one, Heather,” he stated as he stood to his feet. “And you know it.”
He moved around the table, then paused behind her. Before she could think, before she could jerk away, he leaned close, brushing a kiss across her cheek. “I have to go. I have plenty of work to do”
Then he moved to Sarah, repeated the caress and left the room.
Heather caught the other woman’s worried glance as she looked to her for a reaction. A reaction she was saved from looking too deeply into as the back door opened.
“Company coming in, boys. Sarah, your brother’s on the warpath again.”
“Oh hell.” Sarah jumped to her feet and glanced at Brock then Sam. “Either one of you hits my brother today and I’ll hit you back.”
Heather blinked then turned to Sam. “Why would you hit her brother?”
Sam shrugged. “You’ll see when you meet him.”
* * * * *
Dillon Carlyle was gorgeous. With thick, dark brown hair that fell below his neck, and velvet green eyes in a dark complexion that was damned near perfect for a man. A strong jaw line, high cheekbones, and sensually firm lips, she bet he had no end of women falling over themselves to get to him. At the moment, that gorgeous face was creased into a frown of anger though, and his six foot plus frame was tense as he faced the August men.
“Dammit, Cade, what the hell is going on? I come back from vacation to find out this stalker shit is still going on and no one thought to call me?” His deep voice boomed through the entryway as the door slammed behind him. “The least you could have done was call me.”
Before anyone could stop him, his fist drew back and slammed forcefully into Brock’s jaw.
Brock bounced against the wall as Sarah cried out and jumped for her brother, protecting him from the wrath of four bodyguards. The biggest of which was Rick, who looked ready to retaliate rather forcefully.
“Call them off, Cade,” she yelled, dangling from Dillon’s neck as he tried to pull her loose. “Don’t you let them hit him.”
“Dammit, Sarah,” Dillon cursed. “Get off me so I can kick his ass.”
“You moron.” She kicked his shin as he stumbled against the opposite wall. “Do you have a suicide wish I don’t know anything about?”
“Dammit, Sarah, let him go.” Brock was laughing, though the blood on his rapidly swelling lip didn’t look too amusing.
He gripped his lover’s waist and with Dillon’s help lifted her away from his body. Dillon stood ready, his eyes narrowed as he watched the August brothers.
“Pack your stuff, Sarah, you’re coming to the house with me, where you’ll be safe,” he growled aggressively.
“I don’t think so, Carlyle,” Brock grunted. “Get over yourself and have a drink. Enjoy your visit with Sarah then you can head home. Alone. The same way you showed up.”
“Dillon, are you causing trouble again?” Marly entered the fray then, her amused voice drawing eyes as she stepped into the entryway. Dressed in snug jeans and T-shirt, she looked like a mischievous teenager rather than a fully-grown woman.
“Marly, you look pretty as ever,” he sighed. Heather noticed most men sighed a bit wistfully when they saw Marly.
“Thank you, Dillon.” She stepped into Cade’s arms and sent Heather a warning glance.
What? She frowned the question back at her.
Marly looked over her head at Sam. Heather glanced back then moved quickly to place herself in front of him, close. He looked ready to kill. Instantly his arms went around her, and she almost laughed at the instinctive response. If she put aside the whole sharing issue, the August men could be rather endearing.
“I’m not going anywhere, Dillon,” Sarah told him with a vein of exasperation. “Now why are you really here, because we both know you knew I wasn’t leaving with you.”
“Where’s that drink I was promised?” He turned and headed into Cade’s study after shooting him a veiled look.
“Keep your people out here, Rick,” Cade ordered as he headed into the room behind Dillon.
“Cade.” Rick stopped him as he moved to pass. “Don’t keep information away from me, man. We can’t protect you, or catch this stalker if you start hiding things from me.”
Cade’s eyes narrowed. “My family is my life, Rick,” he bit out. “You’ll have everything you need to know, I promise you that. But some things are just not any of your damned business,” he bit out before stalking into the study.
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.”