by Nancy Gideon
Colin placed a firm hand on his arm. “You don’t mean that. Give yourself some time.”
“I don’t need more time to fuck things up worse than I already have. I brought this plague to our people. I let the chance to stop it slip by me. I allowed the suffering they feel now, through my vanity and pride. I’m no leader. You shouldn’t be here to hold me up. I should be carrying you. Our enemies, hell, even our friends don’t respect me. Why should they when I can’t respect myself? You trusted me, and I failed you all. I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess. It’s time to go home where we belong so I can step out of the way.”
Silence. Then Rico began to clap.
“Nice speech. All bullshit, but good delivery.”
Colin was less complimentary. “Don’t insult us. We knew exactly what we were getting when we stood beside you. None of us are going to sneak away from that decision now.”
Turow summed it up with a terse, “You are our king. We follow you.” He took a respectful knee. The other three did the same in unified support.
The immense weight of their trust both crushed and elevated. Cale didn’t know how to react, what to say in the face of such humbling faith. Though he still believed it misplaced, he turned to a teary-eyed Kendra. “Sorry, my queen. Looks like there’s no early retirement for us.”
She lifted his hand to place a light kiss upon his knuckles, vowing, “I bow before their wisdom. And proudly stand beside you.”
Cale took a tortuous breath. Turning back to his brothers, he growled, “You look ridiculous. Get up.” Before he started bawling like a kid presented with every wish come true.
“You’d better go ask Giles if there’s room at the inn for our family,” Kendra urged gently, seeing Cale needed some time to deal with his shiny eyes.
“I expect turn down service,” Rico added.
“I’ll see if there’s space in the garage,” Cale countered, leaving them in the foyer to head back toward Max’s right hand’s Spartan quarters.
Kendra wasted no time. She turned quickly to her new brothers. “If you want him fit to lead, stick by him. He goes nowhere alone.” When Rico started to interject something smart ass, she added, “If he goes to the bathroom, you hand him a towel after he washes his hands.”
Because he couldn’t help himself, Rico drawled, “Are we supposed to take turns sleeping on the other side of him, too?”
Her eyes narrowed. “If I ask you to, yes.”
His blinked at her ferocity. “Okay.”
“Keep him busy and distracted. Wear him out so maybe he can sleep, and don’t you leave him alone if he does. Get him to eat something, and clean him up if he throws it up on you. I can’t do this by myself. I need you.” She took a shaky breath, strength faltering. “Because he’s not going to survive if we don’t help him.”
Colin took a step forward, pulling her gently into his arms. “We’ve got your back.”
The pretty young housemaid Jasmine appeared, interrupting their tender moment by offering to show the four strapping guests to their rooms. As she led the way upstairs, Rico turned from ogling her swinging hips to Kendra with an enthusiastic fist pump and a mouthed, “Yes!”
She leaned back against Cale’s chest as he came to put his arms around her. A chuckle rumbled through him.
“Do our hosts know what they’re in for having so many of us in one place?”
“They’ll behave.”
Cale snorted at that unlikelihood yet sighed. “It’s good to have family close by.”
*
By the next night, he wondered why the hell he’d ever thought so.
He couldn’t take a step without tripping over one of them.
After an emotional meeting between his brothers and their new sister, Oscar was ecstatic to find out they were all staying under the same roof. He and Kip handed Cale’s ass to him in Call of Duty late into the evening until finally, he found himself catnapping on the sofa in self-defense. He was bumping into Colin going from bedroom to bathroom all night until he wondered if the big idiot was sleeping outside his door. Then Rico goaded him into sparring on the dew-slicked grass before he’d had his first morning cup of coffee. And beat the hell out of him even after graciously pulled most of his punches.
As they collapsed on the porch steps mopping sweat from their faces with their shirts, Cale asked, “Are you pissed about Colin? Is that why you’re so eager to smack me around?”
“That you’d pick him over me?” Rico slid a quick glance at him. “Why wouldn’t you, seeing as how I’m an irresponsible hothead who can’t be trusted to keep his mouth shut.”
Cale laughed. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”
Rico turned toward him to demand, “Then why?”
“Col’s all about the details. He loves all that nitpicky, boring diplomacy that’d drive you crazy in the first ten minutes. He’s got the patience to sit back and listen for hours, days if need be, while everybody talks on and on before he’d make a decision in our best interest. Can you honestly say that’s something you’d want to do?”
He thought and grinned. “Hell no.”
Cale bumped his fist on Rico’s kneecap. “Get me some coffee while you’re up.”
Even before Rico’s spot grew cold, Turow filled it. Before he could express his annoyance at not being allowed the luxury of five seconds for a private thought, Turow nodded toward the far end of the sloping yard.
“What are you going to do with her?”
Cale studied his poker-faced brother’s battered silhouette. “She do that to you?”
“She found a weak spot. It won’t happen again.” A claim filled with humility and self-flagellation. Cale believed him. His gaze lifted as Cale stood.
“Bring her up to the study. It’s time for some answers.”
*
Sylvia Terriot managed to look both miserable and wildly beautiful huddled against the unyielding stone wall. An empty paper plate and cup sat next to her from the breakfast delivered earlier. Turow saw that she was fed and periodically brought up to the house to see to other basic needs, but he no longer cared about her comfort.
She smiled when she saw him and rubbed at her throat. “That still looks sore.”
“So does your eye.” The swelling had gone down since he’d slammed the back of his head into it to earn his release from the chain she’d wrapped about his neck.
“Did you come all the way down here thinking I’d keep you company?” she taunted.
“No. To take you up to Cale. He’s requested it.”
She paled. “Is he going to kill me?”
“Not my problem.” He unlocked the iron door to her prison and gestured away from where her ankle chain was secured.
She scooted back, her attention on his expressionless face. “What about your promise that you wouldn’t let him?”
A short laugh. “I think you can consider that null and void.” He looped the chain about his wrist and tugged. “Get up.”
Stiff from the cold overnight stay, she struggled to stand, getting no assistance from her stoic jailor who followed her at a judicious distance up to the sprawling house. They found Cale restlessly pacing the room mobster Jimmy Legere had used to conduct his dark-hearted business. One look at the Terriot king’s harsh features and taut stance told them he was using it for the same. He regarded Sylvia without pity.
“You have one chance to save your life. Lie to me, you won’t live to tell another.”
She hoisted her chin to a defiant level, but Turow could see how the hands clutching at her borrowed clothing shook.
“Where is my brother?”
“Which brother?” she asked lightly. “You have so many to choose from.” She cringed back as his hand flashed up and held with obvious difficulty.
“Where. Is. James?”
“The last time I saw him, he was enjoying a rack of ribs at a roadside diner off I-10. I doubt that he’s still there.”
Cale lunged forward, going nose to nose with her. Admirably, she di
dn’t flinch as he snarled, “Do you think I’m playing games with you?”
She smiled. “You used to enjoy them. Remember?”
Turow pushed his arm between them, levering against Cale’s chest, alarmed by how tense and trembling at the edge of violence he was. His eyes were dark, blazing pits, his lips curled back in a savage snarl.
“Cale, step back. You don’t want to do this.”
His glare flashed up to Turow’s. “Don’t I?” But he moved away and began that agitated pacing once again.
Sylvia relaxed slightly, but not for long as he spun and was in her face once more. “Where were you staying? Where were you peddling your poisons? Just in Algiers?”
Turow saw her taken aback when he pegged that correctly. Her cool didn’t falter. “It doesn’t matter what I know. The minute you destroyed my mother, everything changed.”
“You think I’m sorry that bitch is dead? I hope she’s burning in hell! And you’re going to join her there unless you give me one reason why you’re worth a damn to me alive!”
“Wesley.”
“You think he cares what happens to you now? After you betrayed your people? After you helped kill Michael and Derek?” Even as she lost all color, Cale gripped her by the front of her ill-fitting shirt and threw her across Legere’s big desk so he could loom over her seething in unrestrained fury. “Where’s James hiding?” He gripped her jaw, claws coming out to pierce skin. “Tell me now, or I’ll tear off this lovely mask that’s lured many a better man than me to his disgrace!”
“I don’t know!” she shrieked in terror. “He told us if we were caught, he’d go underground. He never told us where. He never told us where!” Her chest heaved with sobs as she clutched Cale’s wrist. Turow’s steady hand covered hers.
“Cale, remember your vow to your brother.”
He didn’t respond, panting, shaking, controlled by the rage tearing through him. Until he heard another say his name.
“Cale.”
With a frustrated growl, he shook off both who held fast to him and whirled away, unable to meet Kendra’s eyes where she stood in the doorway.
“Take her,” he snarled at Turow. “Take her in chains to our family. Let her fate be decided there by vote, including Michael’s mother’s and Derek’s mate’s. Go now. Get her out of my sight before I change my mind!”
A shaken Sylvia went gratefully with Turow, offering no resistance. Kendra reached out to brush his arm as he passed by, thanking him with her smile before closing the doors behind them. She approached her mate with a quiet, “Thank you, my king.”
“For what? Saving her miserable soul?”
“No. For saving yours.”
He revolved into her arms. They encircled him, her hand coaxing his head to her shoulder. His knees gave, taking them both down to the hard wood floor, where she continued to hold him and soothe him with soft kisses and assurances as his tension trickled down.
“You’re going to be all right.”
He wished he could believe her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
They sat down to dinner, an intermingled family crowded together to enjoy noisy discourse and exceptional food.
Brigit St. Clair would never have believed she’d be sharing table talk with a roomful of Terriots and her own human husband. Fate had a funny way of bringing the most unlikely bedfellows together. Not that she’d bed any of them except the one she’d married!
As she sat, secretly being seduced by the feel of her lover’s hand stroking her thigh, she happened to glance across the table and was caught by the strangeness of Cale’s expression. He stared straight at her, or rather above her at some spot on the wall, his eyes widening, the hand holding his fork beginning to shake until the corn and peas it held rained down unnoticed onto his plate. His breaths increased to quick, tortured gasps. What the hell was he looking at?
The clatter of silver on china turned everyone’s attention his way. He shoved out his chair and disappeared from the room. Kendra automatically started to rise. Brigit waved her down, saying quietly, “I’ll go.”
She found him in the shadow draped study on the leather couch, crouched on his knees, head buried in his arms. His moans were terrible, pitched low with distress. Carefully, she sat beside him. The touch of her hand on his back startled a hoarse cry, bringing up his feverish eyes.
“What did you see?” she asked gently.
His head shook. “Nothing. There was nothing there.”
“Cale, tell me what you saw.”
“A dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.” His voice trailed off. His face went ice pale.
“What was in the dream? It’s okay. You can tell me.”
His head shook again, more forcefully. “No. Not real. Not real. Please don’t make it real!” That last a broken plea.
“Maybe I can help make it go away.”
He remained quiet for a time, panting softly. Then he spoke, words as tightly strung as a barbed wire fence line. “We were having dinner. Me. My family.”
“Yes, we were.”
“No. Not here. Not now. My family. My father. Silas.”
“Was having dinner with your family?” How unlikely!
His head shook. “No. Just watching. His whole family watching. Their eyes on me. Stop looking at me!” he cried out in anguish.
Not now, he’d said. Then when? “Cale, how old were you?”
“Eleven, twelve. I don’t know.” He’d started rocking bent over on his elbows, making low, awful sounds.
“Tell me what you see.”
“Their heads on the wall. My father made Silas do it. Their eyes staring, blaming me. It’s my fault they’re dead. My fault.”
Brigit went cold all over. She’d never seen it herself, but Silas had. After the massacre of their family and Kendra’s, the Terriots had taken their grisly trophies back to their lodge at Lake Tahoe along with their three young prisoners. And that crazy monster, Bram Terriot, had made her brother mount the heads of the dead on their walls like game animals.
Her hand shook as she rubbed his quaking shoulders. “It wasn’t your fault, Cale. Your father was insane.”
“It was. It was my fault. Because I was in love with Kendra, because he made my momma tell him that I’d said I wished I belonged to your family instead of his. So he found a reason to kill them all, all but you.”
“No,” she whispered. It couldn’t be true. Her family. All those people. Her parents.
“They won’t leave me alone. I can’t close my eyes. I can’t sleep, and now they’re everywhere I look. She opened the door for them. Pearl. She didn’t mean to.”
When the child brought him back from the dead. The same way she’d once resurrected the man she’d married. She didn’t doubt Cale. She knew the price for such things could sometimes outweigh the intention. And now the past that haunted him was brought even more terrifyingly alive by the effects of the chemicals still twisting through his mind.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know.”
She lifted him up by the shoulders and turned him so he could curl up tightly across her knees where she stroked his hair, soothing in a gentle tone, “It’s not your fault.”
“I tried to tell her. I tried. Before we mated. Before we bonded. She wouldn’t let me. She said she forgave me without knowing what I’d done.”
Her hand stilled. “What did you do, Cale?”
“I killed her father.”
For a moment, Brigit feared her heart stopped then it hurried in a frantic rhythm. “You mean you were there.”
“My father wanted him tortured for information. I begged him not to. I couldn’t bear to watch it. He was Kendra’s father. He’d been so good to me. My father told me he’d allow him to have a quick, painless end . . . if I did it. If I took his life.” Cale fell silent for a long, agonizing moment before adding faintly, “So I did. But it wasn’t quick or painless because I was just a kid. I wasn’t strong enough to do it right.
“I thou
ght we could be happy. I thought I could make it up to her if I could love her enough, if I could give her a child. But that’s not gonna happen. That’s never gonna to happen. How am I going to tell her, Bree?”
She wiped the tears from her eyes, from his, and took a steadying breath. “You’re not going to tell her. Ever.”
“But—”
“Ever! We all died with them that day. Our innocence, our hopes, our dreams all died to serve that madman’s ego. Hasn’t there been enough death, enough pain? It was not your fault, Cale. No good could come from placing that burden on Kendra’s heart. None. You are the only thing she’s ever wanted. Don’t spoil that for her. Please. Promise you won’t tell her.”
Finally, he managed a jerky nod.
Brigit brushed his hair back and pressed a kiss to his brow. “Thank you.” She rested her forehead against his for a long moment then told him, “I forgive you.”
Finally, his weight and her cramped position began to wreak havoc on her back. Brigit gave him a slight push so he’d sit up. After he’d scrubbed his face with unsteady hands, she regarded him with renewed intent.
“I’d excise your demons if I knew how, but I can’t.”
He sighed wearily. “It’s okay. They can’t hurt me.”
She took his hand, squeezing tight. Oh, yes they could. “I know someone who might help. But you’re not going to like it.”
*
They returned to the table. Cale sat silently studying the food on his plate, gripping Kendra’s hand with a grounding determination. Though the others were curious, conversation continued to flow over and around him.
When they exited the room, he leaned over to whisper, “Let’s go upstairs,” into Kendra’s ear. She continued to walk beside him without noticeable response until Colin started to mount the steps behind them. She turned to place her palm against his brother’s chest.
“Take the night off.”
His brows lifted, gaze cutting between the two of them. Finally, he muttered, “I’ll pass the word along.”
*
The second she closed the bedroom door behind them, he had his arms around her, just holding her tight as he could.
“I love you, Kendra. You have no idea how much.”