Caleb Morgan [Seven Brothers for McBride 7] (5 page)

“Yes, sir. I shall endeavor to keep trying.”

“You do that.” As McBride stood in a cramped closet watching Caleb continue to inspect the thrall while talking with the slammer, he felt his chance at happiness slipping away. All the mistakes he’d made and the lies he’d told filtered through his mind. There was a chance in their history when he could have let go of his pride and claimed Caleb. He’d let that opportunity pass. At the prompting of his own conscience and two of his men, McBride had decided to confess the truth of everything. He’d poured out his emotions—

“Maybe that was the problem.”

“Sir?”

“Nothing.” McBride continued to watch but kept his mouth shut by gritting his teeth. Perhaps spilling his guts had put Caleb off. He wasn’t the most demonstrative man. The time when Ollie had gotten sick and Caleb had worked all night to finish his rows, Caleb refused to take credit for his kindness. He’d done it, everyone knew he had, but he wanted no recognition because that act clashed with his perfectly manicured image of cold brutality. Had McBride somehow offended him by bringing the truth out into the open? Maybe Caleb only wanted him when it was secretive and forbidden. Nothing was as hot as a taboo encounter. But how the hell could either of them sustain that for any length of time?

“The slammer just told him he would be back in forty-eight hours.”

“For what?”

“I do not know, sir. I couldn’t hear that part.”

Caleb stayed right where he was with his massive hand against the thrall’s back. The slammer had given Caleb the cape, but he hadn’t bothered to cover up his offering. Or gift. Or whatever in the hell they’d given him the thrall for. McBride wanted Caleb to march his ass in here and explain, but he continued to stand in the middle of the long drive.

“What is he doing?” Renner asked.

“He’s waiting for the slammer to get out of sight.”

“Why?”

“Because a strong leader doesn’t turn his back on an enemy.”

“So Caleb is the leader now?”

“He apparently thinks so.” Just about the last place McBride wanted Caleb to find him was crammed in a closet with his brother and the butler. He got out and kept right on going until he was on the front porch. Eventually, Caleb came around the corner, but he didn’t move toward the big house. Instead, he took the thrall, whose hand he was holding, over to Ollie’s old mechanical house. Since Ollie was now living in the big house with McBride as his cook, all his things had been moved out.

Another thought occurred to McBride then. When Quintus had been on his way out to the farm, McBride had the butler prepare the house so that they could quarantine him there if they needed to. Fresh linens and a nicely prepared interior were never used by Quintus. If he carried anything, he’d already exposed all of the men on the farm to it when they went out to rescue him during the first encounter with the marauding slammers. Was Caleb putting the thrall in there as a way of silently telling McBride he was going to lay claim to him the exact same way McBride had with Quintus?

Caleb never once looked back. He kept right on going onto the porch, into the house, and then shut the damn door! McBride’s gut reaction was to go over and see just what in the hell he thought he was doing, but he refrained. The last thing he should do was pitch a fit and reveal how distressed he was. If Caleb didn’t want him, then he wasn’t going to keep chasing after him. He had his pride.

As he was standing there on the huge wraparound porch of the big house, feeling the cool air after a long, hot day, he recalled how many times he and Caleb had been at cross purposes. Too many times they’d let negative emotions get between them over a perceived slight rather than an intended one. As difficult as it was for McBride to cool his heels and wait for an answer with an open mind, he did just that. Until he heard from Caleb’s own lips exactly how he felt, McBride wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions.

His grand plan took a terrible beating as he stood on the porch, gaze riveted to the little house, his mind imaging all kinds of tawdry things. Caleb cleaning his little gift in the shower, his soapy hands sliding over the thrall’s tight nipples and high, well-molded buttocks. Once he was clean, Caleb would dry him off and tease him into submission with his lips, teeth, and tongue. And then Caleb would bend his perfect little body over the bed, part his cheeks, and prime his hole for his prick. The last image was the one that enraged McBride. It was the thought of Caleb drilling his cock into the thrall’s backside as he whispered rough talk into his virgin ears. That was the image that pushed at him to go over, wrench open the door, and bellow at him.

“Stop it.” McBride would have slapped himself to prevent his brain from spewing any more images at him, but he’d finally gotten his ear to stop bleeding and didn’t want it starting up again. Rather than focus on what Caleb might be doing while he was alone with a beautiful thrall, McBride mentally thanked him for finding out the source of his blinding headaches and crazy behavior.

A malfunctioning communication unit could certainly cause all kinds of distress. Perhaps that was what had ailed his father. McBride frowned. Or maybe he was simply grasping at straws. He’d exhibited some very strange moods that might be connected to the unit but might not. Sadly, he was going to have to wait and see what happened. One major source of stress that he certainly didn’t need was wondering what was going to happen between him and Caleb. As much as he wanted to give him time, he also felt impatient. He wanted to move Caleb into his room tonight. He wanted to roll around in his big bed and finally claim him the way he’d always dreamed of. And then he wanted to wake up and do it all over again.

Eventually, when McBride didn’t think he could take another second, Caleb exited the little house and locked the door. He looked up and right at McBride. A wicked little smirk twisted his upper lip. It was the exact same look Caleb always had right before he took some kind of sexual shot at McBride. Was that what he was gearing up for now? A dozen thoughts went through his head in an instant, the strangest being that Caleb was coming over to get McBride so they could share the thrall.

When he got close, Caleb spoke, and it was so silky soft it was startling.

“Let’s go in.” Caleb didn’t seem surprised that McBride was on the porch waiting for him. If anything, he looked as relaxed and peaceful as he’d ever been. The smirk had turned into a smile, and it was lighting up Caleb’s face. He went from attractive to dangerously handsome in the blink of an eye.

McBride had a sudden sharp urge to grab him and fuck him right on the porch. Screw what anyone else thought. Maybe that was all he needed to get the man out of his system—one hard fuck and he’d be free. But he controlled himself. In this brave new world, he had no right to demand anything from Caleb. Rather than speak, McBride nodded and followed Caleb inside. He rolled his eyes when his gaze lingered on his slack-covered butt. Damn, but the man had the nicest ass McBride had ever seen.

Before he could get a word out, Caleb’s brothers came pouring down the stairs, all talking at once.

“Hold on! One at a time.” Caleb pointed to Bailey.

“We kept an eye on him until he was back with his group. They’re gone now.”

“And the valet is still up there?”

“Yeah.” Gannon nodded. “He’s keeping watch over the whole farm.”

Devon looked around, frowning. “Where’s the thrall?”

McBride couldn’t wait to hear this explanation.

“I put him up in Ollie’s old house.”

“What? Why?” Ollie had clearly been on the other side of the upper deck since he hadn’t seen where Caleb had gone.

“I’m not about to bring him in here when I have no idea what they’ve put him up to.” Caleb shook his head. “I might be new to this particular game, but I’m no idiot.”

McBride had to agree with that sentiment. If he’d been thinking clearly, he wouldn’t have wanted the thrall anywhere near them until they knew his story. For all they knew, he could be wired to spy on them, or rigged to explode, or intent on sexing Caleb up and then killing him while he dozed in ball-empty bliss. To his surprise, McBride had to realize that Caleb was far beyond a keen strategist. He was able to use his considerable intellect to think like the criminals and then plan effective strategies to circumvent them. For the first time, McBride realized he was attracted to Caleb for more than just his body or his love for his brothers. Caleb was smart. And that was unbelievably sexy.

“Why did they give him to you?”

“As a gift, supposedly.” Caleb scratched at the back of his neck. “Let’s go in the parlor. I want to sit down.”

Everyone, including McBride, went into the parlor. He took a position behind the bar. “Do you want a drink?”

“Yeah. A whisky, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t.” McBride poured liquor into two squat glasses then gave one to Caleb. When he nodded to the cushion next to him on the couch, McBride took a seat. He didn’t sit too close to Caleb because he didn’t want to crowd him, but he was close enough he could smell his body and that spicy soap he favored.

Everyone else got drinks and settled around on the couches and chairs, their attention turned eagerly to Caleb, who seemed to be quite happy to be the focus.

“Okay, where to start? Well, they want me to lead them.”

“Lead them where?”

“Not to somewhere but lead them here.”

“On the farm?” Bailey asked before McBride could.

“He didn’t really say, and he wasn’t keen on giving me a lot of information, not until or unless I agree to become their leader.” Caleb sipped his whisky and sighed.

“Which is smart, if you think about it,” Renner said. “They aren’t going to spill their plans to you on the off chance you’ll just spill them to us.”

“Right. Well, that’s part of it. They want me to bring all of you into the fold, so to speak.” Caleb took another sip of his whisky and grinned. “That is so good it’s practically dancing down my throat.”

McBride only nodded. He was too twisted up to speak. His whisky stayed in his glass, untouched. He was afraid it would loosen his tongue, and that wouldn’t help the situation with Caleb at all.

“They want to join our two groups?” Judging by the frown on Devon’s face, he wasn’t too thrilled with the idea.

“Yes.”

“Why you?” Quintus asked. He had his hand high on Renner’s thigh, not so high he was stroking him off, but he was damn close. It was possessive and intimate, just how McBride wanted to be sitting with Caleb.

“They think I’m the leader.”

“And that you’re keeping McBride as a pet.” Renner slapped his hand over his mouth, but he was far too late.

Caleb’s eyes narrowed as he frowned at his brother. “How do you know that?”

Dead silence prompted McBride to clear the air. “The butler overheard part of the conversation.” There. He’d given him an answer without admitting that he’d been riveted in the old bathroom watching and listening right alongside Renner.

“Did he?” Caleb glanced at the butler then at McBride. Rather than say anything else about that, Caleb continued to tell the entire group about the slammer’s offer. “Gage seemed to think that was quite funny when I am most certainly not interested in keeping McBride as a pet.”

McBride opened his mouth to ask what he did have in mind, but he took a sip of his whisky instead. It tasted good but did nothing to relax him. Now was not the time or place to hash everything out with Caleb. If his supposition was correct that Caleb had been embarrassed to have McBride confess in a public forum, doing it a second time wouldn’t endear him to Caleb at all. Soon enough the lights would go down. Caleb would either come upstairs with him or go off to his own little house. One way or another, McBride was going to have his answer within the next few hours.

“So, are you going to go be the leader of the slammers?” Jared’s tone was light and almost joking, but Caleb was seriously considering the pros and cons of taking on the role.

“I’m not sure. I mean, becoming the ruler of all the slammers has a certain appeal.” Caleb’s tone was just as jocular as Jared’s, but everyone went dead silent so fast it was as if he’d suddenly sucked all the air out of the room. “I’m kidding.”

“Are you?” Gannon set his empty glass aside and wrapped his arms a little tighter around his mate. “It’s hard to tell.”

Caleb spared his brother a glance, but when his gaze connected with his thrall, Alden, who was deaf and so focused on Caleb’s mouth he felt utterly exposed, he softly said, “I’m not going to do anything that will hurt anyone.”

Alden nodded, but it wasn’t a nod that indicated he believed Caleb, just a little nod that said he’d understood what Caleb had just spoken. Somehow, Alden’s concern forced Caleb to look around at his brothers and their mates and realize how much they didn’t seem to intuitively know that he would never do anything to hurt them. Not on purpose. That they didn’t instinctively trust him cut so deep he felt nothing could stanch the wound.

That thought caused his gaze to turn to McBride.

He was sitting on the same couch as Caleb, but he was on the other end, his fanny settled into the curve made by the back of the unit as it swept down to form the arm of the couch. McBride had his left leg bent and hooked up onto the cushion so that he was facing Caleb, but his head was turned slightly away because he was still holding a rag up to his right ear.