by Lora Leigh
“Why haven’t you asked Summer?” Raeg questioned his brother, turning his gaze back to meet Falcon’s frowning expression as it flickered with surprise.
“We both know Summer quite well, Raeg,” his brother pointed out. “Until we know what’s going on, questioning her isn’t something I’d advise.”
Raeg lifted his brow mockingly. “You’re just afraid she’ll get angry with you.” He snorted at the thought. “When are you going to start standing up to her, Falcon?”
Amusement, a hint of chagrin, and a whole lot of pleased male idiocy filled his brother’s expression.
“Because, spoiling her gives me pleasure as well, Raeg. I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out yet.” He chuckled. “But I also know Summer far better than you do, something you don’t seem to want to admit. If she’s planning something, it’s better to learn the details oneself than to depend upon her to give you everything you need to know. She’s far too independent for that.”
“You mean she’s far too secretive and contrary?” Raeg growled.
Falcon’s brow lifted in surprise. “Is there a difference?”
Raeg stared back at his brother, exasperation rising inside him.
Unfortunately, Falcon was right. Before confronting Summer over anything, it was better to have one’s facts in hand if they wanted to take her to task. Still, it didn’t change the fact that the woman was damned difficult to figure out—or do anything with.
“Independent,” Falcon liked to call it.
There were times Raeg thought she delighted in being just as difficult as possible instead.
Staring out at her again, he wondered if she had any idea the havoc she caused in men’s lives, in his and Falcon’s lives definitely. Still, Summer might be difficult, impulsive, secretive, but she wasn’t stupid. Besides, she’d know there was no way to hide her intention to attend any sort of party of the like that she’d need her favorite hairdresser, Steven McGillan, for.
“When are you meeting with the team?” Raeg asked his brother thoughtfully.
“In about two hours.” Leaning back in his chair, Falcon stared back at him with dark impatience. “I don’t like how easily we were surprised by that attempt to grab her yesterday. There’s just something off about it, Raeg. It shouldn’t have been possible.”
“As Cal said, they had help,” Raeg reminded him. “The cameras weren’t defective. I just finished going over the software. The warning alerts were taken offline and rerouted I suspect. That would require access to this laptop.” He flicked his fingers to the device Summer’s brother had brought to him earlier. “Which her brother Caleb assures me is always locked in Cal’s office. It could have been done at any time before Summer even returned home, there’s no way to be certain.” He shrugged. “Until now. I adjusted the programming and laid in a few safeguards no one should expect. They attempt it again, and I’ll know who it is.”
The webcam would go online covertly, snap a picture of whoever thought they were reprogramming the software, and instantly upload it to a secured cloud drive Raeg kept. The software would also alert Raeg through the sat phone he carried.
“Mother always did say you were the smart one,” Falcon snorted, amusement flickering in his gaze.
“My mother always said you were the pretty one,” Raeg pointed out mockingly, the brotherly insult bringing fond memories rather than crashing fury.
The smile that touched Falcon’s lips was bittersweet.
They shared a father, but their lives had been separated even before birth until after they were grown and knowledge of the legacy they shared had been revealed. They’d learned, even from those early years, to always be on guard though, to always protect anything they cared about and to hide the fact that they might care about anyone.
“Okay then, smart-ass,” Falcon sighed, rising to his feet. “I’ll get ready to head out, but”—a warning flashed in his gaze—“I’m telling you, we may see a party as idiotic, or somehow far too dangerous, but that doesn’t mean Summer will. If Steven’s heading out here, then it’s a major event. That means Dragovich’s ability to access it increases.”
“I’ll talk to Summer first.” He held up his hand as Falcon began to protest. “I’m not nearly as frightened of her as you are,” he assured his brother. “And I can see through those innocent acts of hers far easier than you can. She leads you around by your dick.”
Falcon arched a brow knowingly. “Jealous, brother?”
“Of your escape to town,” he snorted, knowing better.
Maybe in a way he was a little jealous of his brother’s ability to play with Summer, to pull that warmth and sweetness free that she kept hidden inside her.
“Keep telling yourself that,” Falcon advised him with a grin. “And keep your eye on that one.” He nodded to where Summer and Aunjenue were laughing on the porch. “I think we’d regret losing her.”
They both knew it would kill them to lose her.
His gaze slid to her then, lingering on the rioting waves of black hair as it fell from where she’d gathered it at the top of her head and secured it with a large clip. One heavy ringlet had fallen from the gathered waves and caressed her creamy cheek before she brushed it back absently.
She’d painted her nails the night before, he realized, glimpsing the dark red color against the peachy complexion of her cheek.
Today, rather than a dress, she wore a long, incredibly soft beige and cream pleated skirt paired with a thin vestlike top secured with tiny buttons. She wore no makeup, no jewelry. Hell, she wasn’t even wearing shoes today.
“I always knew she was the prettiest woman I’m ever going to see,” Falcon stated softly, pulling Raeg’s gaze back to him. “Tell me, Raeg, will you leave a part of your soul with her when we leave, as I will?”
His brother didn’t wait for an answer, not that Raeg had one to give him. Admitting that he suspected Summer owned the most important parts of him already was incredibly difficult. Hell, he was having trouble admitting it to himself. Admitting it meant he had to make a decision, and he knew it. A decision he’d never wanted to face. Just as he’d never wanted to face exactly what the woman meant to him, and why he’d become so damned furious every time he saw her, spoke to her.
How else was a man supposed to feel when he was faced with the woman his soul recognized as that one in a million who could accept him as he was, only to know he couldn’t have her? Not safely, not with any assurance that the darkness that waited just out of sight wouldn’t reach out and snatch her away.
Summer’s laughter drew his gaze to her again.
She and Aunjenue were out there giggling like schoolgirls, their expressions animated, their nearly identical faces side by side as they watched something on the tablet.
He’d learned they watched cute animal videos together, painted each other’s nails, and teased each other unmercifully. Aunjenue was a wicked child though. Summer could not countenance any sort of sexual references from her parents nor about her parents. She’d blush from her breasts to her hairline and stare back at the offender with scandalized anger.
Just as she had with her father the morning before when Raeg and Falcon interrupted them on the back porch.
The fact that Cal had orchestrated that little argument concerning Summer’s relationship with him and Falcon, was a “no-brainer,” as Summer called the obvious. But Raeg had seen her genuine inability to accept any sort of conversation of the like with her father.
It was kind of sweet though. Almost innocent. And he realized, very Summer.
“Daddy,” she called him, and in her love for her father Raeg saw all the innocence and warmth he’d never known Summer possessed. With her father, she was that little girl filled with wonder and a sense of invincibility. And Raeg realized her father could have never accepted that life had jaded one of his daughters.
Whatever happened that long-ago night when Summer was barely thirteen, he still wasn’t certain. What he did know was that it had to have bee
n so completely out of Cal Calhoun’s control that there could have been no stopping it. Because Cal loved his children, all five of them, but he frankly adored his daughters, cherished them. The only thing the man could love with the same dedication and soul depth was his wife.
How did a man take that kind of chance with his soul, Raeg wondered? To love so completely was to ask for fate to reach out and strike at what he cherished so deeply.
Especially wives and daughters.
Enemies always seemed to know a man’s greatest weakness. The destruction of a wife, a child, especially a daughter could destroy a man faster than anything, and Cal Calhoun had taken three chances, standing tall and daring fate to take any of them.
The other man was far more courageous than Raeg knew himself to be. More courageous than he could ever allow himself to be, he reminded himself.
The regret that slammed inside him was like a wrecking ball to his chest. Sharp, resonating with agony, it tightened his chest and had him jerking his gaze from Summer concentrating on the laptop once again.
If he didn’t get the hell away from her, then he was going to do something stupid like try to keep her. That would be the height of idiocy, because he wouldn’t be resigning just himself to a coming hell, but his brother as well.
Sharing their women was far more than just a sexual desire neither wanted to walk away from. They could walk away from it if they had to, Raeg knew, they would simply prefer not to have to, if the situation of their lives had ever changed.
The fact was, sharing their women ensured no one ever suspected that any of those women were important to either of them. After all, what man would share the woman he loved? There were many who did, he knew, but they kept that fact quiet, kept the sharing hidden for the most part. A forbidden pleasure that the world wouldn’t necessarily understand.
An enemy wouldn’t see that woman as important to him and Falcon. Their hunger for their lover’s ultimate pleasure served as the perfect smokescreen to hide any fondness they felt for their lover. It gave them a respite from the knowledge that they could ultimately be the reason a lover died.
And that one Raeg was well acquainted with. He’d smelled the horrific scent of his lover’s blood, seen the death that filled her eyes, and knew he’d been the cause of it. And he knew he could never face that again.
Chapter
ELEVEN
Summer was running out of time and she knew it. The parties would begin at the end of the week. That Friday day and Saturday night her momma’s sisters were hosting the informal barbeque and evening dancing. The week after, her momma’s best friend would host the event. The third weekend, her parents were hosting the formal ball on Friday night, and another barbeque that Saturday day and evening.
With the exception of the one formal ball held at her parents’ home, the parties were informal house parties that would spill out to the patios and lawns once the cooking started.
All but Summer’s ball gown was ready for the three weeks of socials her momma and aunts had planned. One of the most beautiful dresses she’d ever seen, she admitted. She couldn’t wait to wear it.
“Trina’s comin’ to the house to finish the final touches on your gown,” Aunjenue told her as they looked at the detailed drawing of the gown once again. “Tomorrow, then next Wednesday for the final fitting.”
The gown was exquisite. Antique ivory lace peeking from beneath sapphire chiffon.
“I still can’t believe Trina was hidin’ that design on the rest of us,” Aunjenue protested with a rueful wrinkle of her nose. “I would have snapped it up before you even had a chance to see it.”
The playful teasing in her sister’s voice didn’t hide the fact that she was completely serious. She and Aunjenue made a game of trying to find the prettiest gowns. While Summer did often allow her sister to snag the best ones, this particular gown was just her. Whimsical, feminine; not frilly, but soft.
She adored it.
“You hussy.” Summer shot her sister a mock frown. “You get the benefit of her talents all year long. I haven’t had a single dress in forever. I deserved that dress.”
“I’m just tellin’ you, it’s a good thing she had it hid deep, else you’d have missed out big time and I would have been wearin’ it myself.” Aunjenue shrugged, shooting Summer an arched look. “Count yourself lucky.”
Her sister was all grown up, Summer thought with a bit of regret. She was a woman now rather than the too-skinny kid with scratched knees and eyes that looked far too big for her childish face.
Her features weren’t childish anymore. The graceful arch of her cheekbones, the playful tilt of her nose, and her stubborn chin were almost identical to Summer’s. She was independent and sometimes reckless as hell, and though she loved training to fight and shoot, she had no desire to leave home. At least, not yet. Truthfully though, Summer couldn’t see her sister ever joining law enforcement or a federal agency. Racing four wheelers in old man Pritchard’s bog, definitely; being in the middle of a firefight, not so much.
“Your hairdresser called by the way.” Aunjenue sat back in her chair and picked up her cup of coffee once again. “Momma’s havin’ the guesthouse at the end of the road prepared. He sent her a list of everything he needed. Where in this world did you find him anyway?”
Summer couldn’t help but grin at the question. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” she promised. “You’ll love him though. He’s been doin’ my hair for the past five years in DC. He’s a sweetheart.”
Middle-aged and gruff, Steven McGillan loved his single-malt Scotch and swore that taking care of Summer’s hair was the highlight of his advancing years. He’d actually come out of retirement for her that first year she’d met him.
“Well, Momma was just pantin’ over his accent. She told Daddy she thought she was gonna swoon while she was talkin’ to him.” She fanned her face with one hand. “Then she and Daddy disappeared upstairs, like forever. And I swear, I heard Momma gigglin’ like a teenager.”
Summer winced at the information, that part of her that refused to accept such things as sex between her parents cringing in dismay.
“I didn’t need to know all that,” she informed her sister, frowning back at her.
Aunjenue only laughed.
“Anyway, your Mr. Steven McGillan will be here day after tomorrow. He asked that you come see him Thursday morning but not a moment before because he has to unpack and recover from his jetlag.”
Steven swore jetlag hated him and that it took a full twenty-four hours for his still remarkably fit body to acclimate to a new time zone. She swore he just liked to get to see the sights and get his freak on whenever he traveled.
“Have Caleb take a bottle of Daddy’s best single-malt to the house. Just leave it on the counter. He’ll look for that first.” She had a habit of leaving him a bottle whenever he traveled to do her hair.
Aunjenue snorted at the order. “Momma will take care of it, I’m sure,” her sister giggled. “She likes getting flirty because then Daddy gets all frisky on her. I swear, I came in last week and they were on the couch swappin’ tongues like newlyweds.”
No!
Outrage, horror, amazed denial exploded in her mind.
“Oh my God!” Summer all but all screeched before covering her ears, a little late. She so did not need that image in her head. “Do not be tellin’ me that stuff, Auna. I swear, I’ll throw your ass in the swamp and let the gators have you for breakfast. You know Momma and Daddy would never act that way.”
Aunjenue was cackling with laughter, the hussy.
“You are so funny. Do you really think the gators left us on the doorstep when we were babies, Summer? You do know Daddy was just joking right? You know all about the birds and the bees, like you should?” Aunjenue was beside herself with amusement.
“Daddy would not lie to me,” Summer assured her sister with a fierce glare. “And if you don’t stop bein’ ugly with me right now, then I’ll refuse to let Steven fix
your hair. You’ll be fixin’ your own.”
Aunjenue narrowed her gaze back at Summer, though the laughter was threatening to bubble up and explode once again.
“Oh yeah, Daddy would never lie to us,” Aunjenue agreed with mocking disbelief. “We’re all just gator babies conceived in the swamp and birthed in the marsh.”
When she’d been five and asked him where babies came from, her daddy had sworn that gators had left his and Momma’s babies on the back porch. That the momma gator had made them with spit and mud, then laid them in the marsh to dry out in the sun until they looked like real babies just before Jesus breathed life into them. And he’d kept that story going for as long as she could remember. Never, not at any time, did her daddy, or she, mention sexual relations until just the day before when her daddy had simply horrified her by implying things about her sex life.
Still, while she could have such a life, her parents simply could not. The very thought of it was too embarrassing to even contemplate.
“Summer.” Propping her elbow on the side of the chair and cupping her chin in her hand, Aunjenue grinned back at her mischievously. “You do know that if you marry, Daddy is gonna know you’re doin’ the nasty. Right?”
“I would never,” Summer gasped, blinking back at her sister as though aghast that such a thing would even be considered. “Daddy knows I’d never do that.”
At least, that was the pretense she intended to keep at all times. Even she was often amused by her reaction to anything intimate where her parents were concerned. She couldn’t help it though. It was all her daddy’s fault. If he hadn’t blushed and stammered and been so uncomfortable when she asked him where babies came from, then she herself might not be nearly so reticent about it.
“Oh Lord.” Aunjenue tried to smother her laughter. “You are a basket case. And I guess you think he was jokin’ yesterday when he implied he knows you’re doing the nasty times two with those two hunks you brought home with you?”
Summer blinked back at her sister in surprise. She denied the charge, probably a little too vehemently. “I am not! Not with either of them. Definitely not with both of them.”