by Becca Van
Rachel lay down on her side and eased her legs over the cliff edge. Her stomach dropped down, doing flip-flops as fear tried to rear its ugly head. She took a deep breath, held and then released it. Her hands gripping the dirt and bush, she eased herself lower until her feet connected with a protruding rock. She tested the ledge, first with one foot, letting her whole weight rest on the rock, her hands still digging into the earth and gripping the branch of the bush. When there was no movement beneath her feet, she released one hand and scrabbled for purchase lower down. Slowly, she made her way down to the bottom of the ravine.
Rachel had no idea how much time had passed and didn’t really care. She was down on solid ground, her arms and legs weak from exertion and adrenaline from her long, hard descent. She wobbled her way over to the small river, dipping her filthy hands into the cool water, and washed the blood away then cupped her hands and drank deeply. The sun was low to the west of her. She only had a couple of hours before the sun set. Her whole body was aching, every scrape, cut, and abrasion making itself known, and she was so tired she could have lain where she was to sleep the night through. But she couldn’t. She needed to find a place to hide. There was no doubt in her mind Frank would be out looking for her. She hoped he hadn’t called anyone else in to help.
Rachel stood, crying out in pain as her right ankle and cut feet protested. She wanted to sit back down and soak her aches and pains away in the cold water, but that wasn’t an option right now. She began limping her way south, following the river, her eyes scanning the base of the cliff for a safe place to hide. She walked and limped, stumbling often, exhaustion pulling at her tired body. She was so tired she was crying, and she knew her tears were leaving streaks on her dirty face. She nearly yelled for joy when she spotted a small overhang of rock. She turned and made her way to her temporary haven.
* * * *
“Where is she, you motherfucker?” Sam yelled into the Chief of Police’s face, shaking him by the hold he had on the man’s shirtfront.
“I don’t know. She knocked me out and took off.”
“You cowardly piece of shit. You and your brother-in-law are going down. An officer in Miami has all the evidence needed to send you and your colleagues away for the rest of your life. If I didn’t know you’d be dead soon, I’d kill you myself.”
“Sam, let him go,” Damon said calmly. Sam felt Damon place his hand on his shoulder, trying to restrain him. “Hand him over to the Feds. We need to find Rachel before it gets dark.”
The place was swarming with the law. Luke’s friends he affectionately called the Delaney Shadows, Daniel and Britt, as well as Seamus, Connell, Luke, Damon, Tyson, Sam, and the FBI, were all combing the area, looking for clues as to where Rachel was headed.
Sam shoved Rachel’s ex-boss so hard the bastard fell on his ass. He turned away, not once looking back at the piece of scum, and headed outside. They needed to find Rachel. God only knew what state she was going to be in. The bastard said he hadn’t hurt her, only tied her up, but he could be lying. Sam had never felt so out of control before. He was usually an emotionless hard-ass, working his way through a mission with taciturn, calculating determination. The fact it was their woman, the love of his life, missing had a large knot of fear eating away at his insides. He had to get himself under control. He breathed in deeply, held the breath for three seconds, and slowly released it. He repeated the calming process over and over until the knot in his gut began to recede. He looked up at his brothers’ hard faces and knew he had the same look on his face. They had a job to do, and emotion was the last thing they needed crowding their minds and their judgment. They needed to be detached, hard-ass warriors.
The Osborn brothers, with Sheriff Luke Sun-Walker and the Delaney brothers, got to work, searching the area with a fine-tooth comb. A yell from Daniel Delaney had Sam and everyone else rushing over to where he stood studying the ground behind the small cabin.
“She headed west. Let’s go,” Daniel’s deep, rough voice commanded.
Sam and the others walked for hours, their direction changing as signs of flight caught their eyes. They reached a deep ravine, and Sam searched down the sheer cliff face, praying their woman wasn’t at the bottom.
“Over here,” Luke yelled. He pointed to the disturbed ground, a scuff mark from a shoe and a broken tree branch indicating which way to go.
They made it to the place Rachel had gone over the edge of the cliff just as twilight set in. They were going to have to wait until daylight before they went any further. As much as Sam wanted to keep going, his training kicked in, knowing he would endanger his own life and the lives of the men with him if they tried to keep going.
Daniel and Britt Delaney got a fire going and handed around energy bars and water canteens they’d pulled from their backpacks to all the men. The brothers were veritable Boy Scouts, having everything needed for a night out under the stars. The eight men relaxed around the fire, some dozing, the others conversing as they whiled away the hours until dawn.
Sam saw Daniel pull his portable tracker from the clip on his hip, and wondered why he looked annoyed.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.
“My tracking device still isn’t working.”
“Hey, Daniel, where did you get that thing?” Luke asked from across the fire.
“Standard issue.”
“Shit, man, what the hell are you and your brother into?” Tyson asked.
“Classified,” Britt answered.
Sam sighed as the conversation died down with the fire. Most of the men looked totally relaxed, but looks were deceiving. The slightest out-of-place sound would have him and the others all drawing their weapons. They were all warriors, some more elite than others, but they all lived to protect the innocent. It’s what he and the rest of the group had been trained for.
* * * *
Rachel shifted on the hard rock beneath her tired, aching body for what felt like the hundredth time. She was so tired and hungry, but she was alive. Her right ankle hurt so badly now that the adrenaline had worn off, and she was on the verge of tears. She felt sick to her stomach with the knowledge she wouldn’t be able to continue on. She either had a very bad sprain or she’d fractured a bone in her ankle. It was almost three times its normal size, black and blue all around her ankle. Her feet hurt from all the cuts and scrapes, and they felt like they were on fire. It felt as if they were scraped raw, no skin left to protect her soles. She dozed on and off, every little rustle and sound bringing her alert to listen for danger. She was shaking with cold, but knew it was more in reaction to her situation than the ambient temperature. She wished she had had the foresight to keep her cell phone in her pocket instead of her purse. Hindsight was a wonderful thing, after the fact. There probably wasn’t any reception out here anyway. Rachel finally drifted down into a deep slumber, emotional and physical exhaustion catching up with her. She dreamed of her men, safe and sound, out looking for her.
* * * *
“Okay, let’s head out,” Damon stated, eager to find their woman. The sun hadn’t risen completely yet, but there was enough light for the men to work and move by. Sam was the first over the cliff. Damon watched as his brother moved with stealthy grace, his muscles rippling as he moved steadily down the cliff side.
“She made it safely to the ground,” Sam called up to the other men when his feet touched flat, firmer ground. “I’ll scout her direction.”
Damon watched as Sam followed Rachel’s track and found where she’d stopped to drink. Damon praised her in his mind. He followed as Sam tracked her path silently, steadily. Pride filled his chest at what their woman had endured. She was a lot tougher than he or his brothers thought. The instinct for survival had kicked in, and he knew she wouldn’t relent until she was safe and sound back in their arms.
Damon and the others traveled for another couple of miles, all eyes scanning the ground, the river, the base of the cliff. They walked silently, their military training natural and instinctive. D
aniel was in the lead now. He’d been moving quietly but quickly. Then Damon saw him stop, tilting his head as he held his hand up for silence. Damon and the other men behind him froze, watching the huge man until he indicated all was right again. He saw Daniel take one step, stop, turn, and face him and his brothers.
“Your woman is asleep under the overhang, twenty meters away at two o’clock,” Daniel called, and the Osborn brothers took off, weapons drawn, eyes scanning.
The sight of a dirty, disheveled female curled in the fetal position, fast asleep on a large rock, was the most beautiful sight Damon had ever seen. They replaced their weapons, out of sight from Rachel, and walked over to where she slept. She didn’t move or look like she was going to wake anytime soon.
Damon, Sam, and Tyson knelt down at her side, placed their hands on her warm body, and gently began to stroke her awake. She sat up screaming as she blinked her eyes back into focus, her gaze going from one brother to the next, then back again. She surprised Damon when she jumped up and grabbed hold of all three of them and didn’t let go.
She was safe. They had found her. Damon felt the knot of fear in his gut finally leave now that she was back in his arms once more.
Chapter Fourteen
Rachel lay beneath the arbor roof, lazing the hours away in the hammock her men had bought for her, her healing foot propped up on a cushion. The book she had been reading lay pages down on her stomach. Her eyes closed as she relished the peace and quiet of the late-spring afternoon. It had been just over a week since her men had found her. Her ex-boss and his brother-in-law were incarcerated, the chance of release nonexistent. The female hit woman had disappeared from the face of the Earth.
Rachel’s mom was now back home, her bodyguard now living with her, as her boyfriend. It was strange how life’s circumstances and coincidences twisted and turned. She pondered whether it was fate, or if they all had guardian angels looking out for them, directing them all to where they should be.
The only thing that would make Rachel happier would be to have her men truly back in her bed. She hadn’t slept alone since she’d come back home, but none of her men had touched her sexually. She was becoming a bundle of sexually frustrated nerves. She wanted to strip her men bare-ass naked and ravish them until none of them could stand. They were treating her like a piece of fragile crystal. Hadn’t she proven to them she wasn’t as frail as she looked?
Rachel had been given the all clear to return to work on Monday and hoped the normality of reality would show her men she was more than ready to take them on. The sound of three cars pulling up in the driveway drew her head around. The slam of the front door, followed by three sets of male footsteps, was like music to her ears. Her men weren’t supposed to be home just yet, so she wondered what was going on.
“Rachel?” Sam’s anxious voice drifted through the open dining room doors.
“Out here,” she called back.
The sight of her three men shoving each other, trying to be the first out the door, was comical. They looked like little boys fighting over a toy.
“What’s up?” Rachel asked.
“We are, baby,” Damon replied.
It took her a moment, but when the penny dropped, she burst out laughing. She glanced down at their crotches, her breath hitching when she saw their huge erections pushing against the zippers of their pants.
“How come you’re all home? I thought it would be at least another hour or so before you were here. Tyson, you’ve only been gone a few hours. Who’s looking after the pub?”
“Connell and Seamus are. They’ve decided they’re working for me until they figure out what they want to do with regards to their careers. I have the rest of the afternoon and night off, sugar,” Tyson explained, a wicked smile on his face as he waggled his eyebrows at her.
“Hm, that’s good. So, what are you going to do? I can see some weeds peeking through the ground that need to be pulled,” Rachel teased. She watched a pained expression cross her men’s faces and pouts form on their lips. She couldn’t contain her mirth. She practically doubled over as she burst into laughter. The laughing changed to a squawk when large, gentle, but firm hands scooped her up from the hammock and tossed her over a broad, muscular shoulder.
“Think you’re funny, don’t ya, sugar?” Tyson said, patting her ass with a light slap.
“We’ll see who has the last laugh, big boy,” Rachel goaded saucily.
Rachel reached down and grabbed a handful of firm, muscular buttock, eliciting a growl of approval from Tyson. She bounced on his shoulder as he rushed into the house, heading straight for her room. She lifted her head, peering through her hair, smiling at Sam and Damon as they followed close behind.
Rachel’s world spun, her eyes blurring, and then she was bouncing on the mattress in her room. The sexual, predatory looks her three men gave her made her heartbeat speed up, her breath panting in and out of her lungs and her pussy softening and weeping with arousal. They moved as one, hands reaching, tugging, and pulling until she was totally naked before them, spread out like a sacrifice on an altar. She watched as their hands began discarding their own clothes, practically ripping them from their bodies with eagerness. Her eyes roved the breadth and length of their bodies, her breath catching at the beauty the three men revealed to her. They were all so drop-dead gorgeous, brawny and way too sexy. Their muscles rippled as they moved, drawing her eyes to biceps, pecs, abs, and quads and everything in between. They were sex personified, oozing confidence, which only heightened her awareness and arousal.
Rachel stared as the three men closed the gap between them and her. She had waited far too long for this day. The last eight days had been the longest of her life. She was grabbing hold with both hands, not willing to let go, and not willing to look back.
Rachel watched as Tyson crawled on the bed near her feet. On his hands and knees, he nudged her legs apart, his big body moving closer to her. She locked gazes with him, but was still very aware of Damon and Sam climbing on the bed on either side of her. Tyson knelt between her splayed thighs, rubbing his hands up and down the inside of her legs. He reached for her hips, held them between his hands, and tilted her pelvis up. He kept eye contact with her, lowered his head until he was inches away from her pussy, and inhaled deeply.
“God, you smell good, sugar. But I bet you taste even better,” Tyson stated as he lowered his head.
The first touch of Tyson’s tongue on Rachel’s clit was so decadent and pleasurable she lifted her hips up into his mouth. She would never be able to get her fill of her three men. She was going to spend the rest of her life loving them, physically as well as emotionally. She reached down, threaded her fingers through his hair, and gave herself over to her lovers. Tyson worked at Rachel’s cunt, giving her pleasure beyond her imagination.
Sam gently directed her face to him, the palm of his hand on her cheek. She sobbed out her pleasure as Tyson thrust two fingers into her tight, wet hole, her eyes on Sam’s as he leaned forward, placing his lips on hers. His kiss was so gentle and full of love, but still so carnal she couldn’t catch her breath. Then Damon’s hand and mouth were on her breasts. She was in heaven and hell. Heaven to be back in the arms of her lovers once more, and hell because she wanted her men to fuck her, right now. Rachel mewled out her frustration when Tyson withdrew his mouth and fingers from her pussy. Sam withdrew his mouth from hers, and Damon removed his mouth and hand from her breasts.
“Easy, sugar. We’ll give you what you need,” Tyson crooned. He picked her up, moved to the head of the bed, and leaned against the pillows cushioning his back. He pulled her up and over his hips so she was straddling him as they faced each other. “Take me into your sexy, wet pussy, Rach. I want you to ride me, sugar.”
They kept eye contact as Rachel kneeled up, aligning her pussy with Tyson’s cock. She slowly lowered herself onto his hard dick, the mushroom-shaped head separating her wet folds, easing into her cunt as she slowly lowered herself. They both groaned as Tyson embedded h
is cock in her cunt and she enveloped him. Rachel rocked up and down, easing Tyson’s cock into her wet sheath with every move. The feel of Tyson grabbing her hips and pulling her down, impaling her on his hard cock, sent her over the edge. She threw her head back and screamed, her pussy grabbing and releasing around Tyson’s hard rod.
“I love watching and feeling you come on my cock, sugar. I love you, Rachel.” Tyson breathed against her sensitive ear.
“I love you, too, Tyson. I love all of you so much.” Rachel sobbed, her heart full to overflowing.
“Ah, baby, I love you, too. I’m about to show you how much,” Damon said before he placed a cold, wet finger at the pucker of Rachel’s anus. He massaged the lube into the skin of her ass. She felt her tight muscles relax, and she heard him get more lube as he pushed two fingers into her ass. She moaned as he pumped his fingers in and out, slow and steady, letting her body adjust to the intrusion. When she was totally relaxed, he withdrew his fingers, covered the latex on his cock with lube, and began to work his way into her ass. The sound of his groan as his balls met the flesh of her cunt, his cock throbbing in time to her own heartbeat, had her internal muscles fluttering and rippling around his cock. She turned her head when Sam reached over, placing the palm of his hand on her cheek. Sam ran the head of his cock over her blood-swollen lips, and she flicked her tongue out, twirling it around the top of his dick, and smiled at the three low, masculine groans. It was the catalyst that broke her men’s leashed control.
Damon pulled out of Rachel’s ass, making her moan with pleasure. As he pushed back in, Tyson slid his cock out of Rachel’s pussy, and she sucked Sam’s cock into her mouth to the back of her throat. Her men increased the pace slowly, and she was glad, as she didn’t want to end such bliss too soon, but knew she would be unable to stop the inevitable conclusion. The sensation of her Kegel muscles rippling along Tyson’s and Damon’s cocks must have been too much for her lovers to bear. They both drew back at the same time and slammed their hips back into her. The sound of flesh slapping flesh, and her own mouth making slurping sounds as she sucked Sam’s cock, echoed throughout the room. She was beyond control and knew by the frantic pumping of her lovers’ hips and their moans of pleasure that they were also beyond control.