If only

She heard him laugh, echoed by Galen, and then he powered into her as he sought his own satisfaction. He felt even bigger. Huge. As she still shook from the strength of her orgasm, he pressed deep and groaned as he came.

And oh God, she loved that feeling, the knowledge that she, Sally, had given him that pleasure.

Chapter Eight

The nice thing about dirt roads in the Catskills was he could easily tell if someone was following him. Drew Somerfeld stopped on a rise, got out of his vehicle, and checked his back trail. The dirt hanging in the air was from the tires. The soughing wind ruffled the spruce and fir forest; a creek gurgled over rocks. All quiet—aside from the whimpering of the woman in the trunk. She must have been wakened by the bumpy road.

He slapped the metal to shut her up and climbed back into his car.

A half hour later, he pulled to a stop in front of the isolated cabin he’d bought for his twin. Best decision he’d ever made. His brother couldn’t cope with civilization, but he functioned fine if interactions were kept to only one or two people. No noise, no distractions.

In the turmoil of a city—or mental institution—Ellis couldn’t cope. Here, he did very well, with an occasional outing to satisfy his obsession.

Drew’s lips curled. He’d been quite clever to turn Ellis into the Association’s private executioner.

On the rough excuse for a porch, his brother rose from the ugly chair he insisted on carting around wherever he went. Burn marks covered the chair’s wooden arms.

Hell, his brother was no prettier. White burn scars marred Ellis’s left cheek and jaw, and his eyelid was puckered, pulled askew, giving him a monster-like appearance. Mesmerized at watching their father die in the fire, Ellis had stayed too long. Almost died under the collapsing roof.

Before the fire, he’d been as handsome as Drew. He’d never been as stable though.

Drew had been born first. Their mother always said Drew was greedier, blaming him as if an unborn child could have decided something like that. But the fact was Ellis had been deprived of oxygen, and he just wasn’t as…bright. Or balanced. Something in his brain was off.

But Drew saw to it that he never lacked for anything. Who knows, maybe he owed his twin that.

AS HIS BROTHER got out of his car, Ellis grinned, expectation rising inside him. Had Drew brought a replacement slave?

The job on Tillman had been fun. Ellis had done exactly what his twin wanted, and enjoyed every minute. Especially killing his former slut in front of Tillman, seeing the cop’s helpless fury. Afterward, he’d burned the house to ashes around the lawman and his wife—and hey, he’d even added Tillman’s mother-in-law to the mix. Fun times.

But hauling the slave’s body back out to the car had been an effort. Might have strained his back. Drew’s fucking hired gun hadn’t helped at all, said his job was to guard, not to carry.

But Ellis had followed the rules since his twin was fussy about the body count being right. And once he’d gotten the body into the car, it hadn’t been that difficult to dispose of her in a deep body of water. The fish had to eat too.

Heh. Clever Drew. He’d been the one to realize they could use a bloody, terrified slave to gain entrance to a target’s house.

And Ellis did enjoy making sure each woman was bleeding like a stuck pig. Even gave each one a broken bone or two to ensure they were really crying. Begging to get in.

The door to the house always opened right up. The woman would go through, and Ellis would follow right after. Definitely fun times.

But Drew had decreed no witnesses, so each fire meant he’d lose that slave.

Drew always brought him a replacement. Had he this time?

“Do you have something for me?” He couldn’t help hurrying forward. New slaves were always fun.

Drew grinned and opened the trunk, yanking out a young blonde woman. Blindfolded, handcuffed, wearing leg shackles. “One pretty treat for you, Ell.”

Oh yeah, indeedy yeah. “I like the blonde ones.”

“But you gotta make her last this time. The Feds are getting too close, so I’m shutting down a lot of the services.”

“Right.” Ellis scowled. That meant he wouldn’t be burning anyone for a while either. “I only killed one by accident.”

“True. You’ve done well.” Drew patted his arm. “And you did a fine job with the Tillman fire.”

* * *

In a spacious Orlando hotel ballroom, Galen moved through the crowd of celebrating graduates and their friends and families. The music from the orchestra was soft, allowing people the option of dancing or being able to hold a conversation. At one end of the room was a buffet table. A well-stocked bar had been set up in another section, and Vance had headed there to procure drinks.

Galen turned slowly in a circle. His task was to spot a curvy, long-haired brunette in the midst of all these people. A short woman. No longer limping—unlike him—since her ankle had mended nicely in the four days since the asshole’s attack. But since she knew her ankle was weakened, she’d chosen to wear flats rather than heels. Smart woman.

He liked that about her. Liked her.

She was still in their home, and he had gotten far too accustomed to her sprawling over him in the night. When she curled next to Vance, her round ass snuggled against Galen’s groin. She had the prettiest heart-shaped ass he’d ever seen.

And the most tempting. Each day he had increased the girth of the anal plug she wore. She was ready for them now, and he looked forward to seeing her come undone. The sweet little imp gave of herself more generously than any woman he’d ever known.

Finally, he saw her, speaking to a man near the linen-covered tables of food. Although she looked gorgeous in a flame-red gown, the glowing pleasure she’d shown during the ceremony was gone, leaving her face pinched and unhappy. Who the hell was she talking to? Someone from her family?

Galen detoured so he could approach from behind Sally. Study the situation before butting in. Although masculinized, the man’s pointed chin, thin nose, and wide forehead were very similar to Sally’s. Family, all right. This must be the pet-hating father. Galen already disliked him.

“So you’ve finally graduated,” the man was saying to Sally. “You going to get a real job now?”

Galen stopped. That sure wasn’t a loving tone of voice. Or a proud one.

“I’ve always held down a job, Father, starting at twelve,” Sally said, her voice stiff.

“And spent your money on clothes. You’d think you would have learned what was important after you got your mother killed,” the older man said, bitterness in every word.

Christ, what kind of fucked-up shit is this? When Sally flinched at the cruel words, Galen’s hand curled into a fist.

Sally pulled in a shaky breath before straightening her shoulders. How many times had Galen seen her do that? She was so fucking brave.

“Well, thank you for coming, Father,” she said politely. “It was nice to have family present.”

Protectiveness welled in Galen’s heart. He was used to physically shielding his women; looked like this one he’d need to protect emotionally, as well. “There you are,” he said, raising his voice. He stepped up behind her and curved his arm around her waist, feeling the tension in her small body, seeing the guardedness in her eyes. In meth houses, he’d seen children with such eyes.

But he had years of dealing with assholes, so he smiled and prompted her. “And who is this?”

“Um. Right. Father, this is Galen Kouros with the FBI. Galen, this is my father, Hugh Hart.”

Had to say, Hart seemed to be sorely lacking any heart. “Good to meet you.” Sally has nothing but bad things to say about you. He stuck his hand out, ignoring the reluctance the father displayed.