Natalie Acres (9 page)

Brock snarled. “And are you ready to dismiss his life choices and his negligence that damn near got you and your sisters killed?”

“Jordie Anne,” Trixie snapped. “Say it with me, Brock. Say her fucking name! You’ve spent our entire relationship avoiding the talk about her. You dodge her name at every turn. You refuse to take ownership in what happened to that girl yet you were just as guilty as Mitch. The only difference here? Mitch decided to own his faults and carry the burden of responsibility.

“And what was it that you did, Brock? Hmm? What? Tell me, damn you!” She flew against him with her palms against his chest, her small hands balling in tightly clenched fists as the tears streamed down her face.

Jerking her hands forward and back, she buried her head in his chest and sobbed. “I want you to tell me you were guilty.” Her fists jabbed against his rock-hard chest. “I want to hear you say it. We were all guilty.” She cried harder. “Oh my God. Why didn’t I see this before now? We were all to blame.”

Rory stepped behind her. He stroked her back and gently said, “Maybe you’re right, Trixie. Jordie Anne went nuts because of her drug addiction, but perhaps we all pushed her over the edge when we fell in love with you.”

Brock stilled under her grip but he didn’t admit guilt. Trixie stared into his dark eyes. Her words had hurt him. Perhaps her accusation had detrimentally changed the man she loved.

Without a doubt, Brock Sheldon now realized he carried some of the burden. He couldn’t hide from the truth any longer.

Brock was responsible. He was as much to blame for Jordie Anne’s addiction as Mitch or anyone else. He’d been there when she’d been introduced to their party drug. He’d watched her develop her addiction and nurture her habit. Then, he’d looked the other way as if he had nothing to do with her drug addiction.

Sure, they were young. Sure, they were in the experimentation phase but he and the others had walked away unscathed. Shouldn’t he have carried some guilt?

Trixie wanted him to acknowledge his role and she realized why it was so important to her. Brock and Rory were the only two people standing in the way of her reunion with Mitch. And if they weren’t so stubborn and judgmental, Mitch would be there with them now.

“I want you to start at the beginning,” she said slowly. “Tell me the whole story. I want to know where Mitch is now.”

“Trixie…”

“Tell me!” she screamed, backing away from him.

Brock dragged his fingers through his short hair and said, “We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“We’ll discuss it now, Brock.”

He turned off the light in the hallway. “Come to bed, Trixie. We’ll sort this out tomorrow. Tonight, you’ll sleep between the men who are committed to you. Maybe while you’re drifting off to sleep, you’ll think of the life we’ve built together, the love we’ve shared, and maybe somewhere between nodding off tonight and rising in the morning, you’ll realize Rory and I only wanted to protect you.”

“Mitch wouldn’t hurt me.”

“His lifestyle is different than ours,” Rory reminded her. “Drastically different.”

“So you’re justifying why it’s okay to shut him out?” she asked, turning on Rory.

“No, I’m providing you with a legitimate reason to think long and hard about what you want to say when you and Mitch are face-to-face again.”

“Please don’t do this,” she said, stopping Rory before he passed her. “Please tell me about your conversation with him.”

“I’m sorry, Trixie, but I’m with Brock. You need to calm down. We’ll revisit the Mitch subject tomorrow.” Rory waited for her by the door. “We want you happy, Trixie, and if Mitch will make you happier than Brock and I have, then by all means, you should explore the possibility of adding Mitch in the mix.” He walked to her then and framed her face. “But I want you to consider his dark side, too, Trixie. Remember the part of him you never could quite reach? Trix, honey, you’ll never break through those walls now.

“Mitch is a hard-core Dom who will only let you get so close before he shoves, not pushes, but shoves you away.”

“I can handle Mitch,” she said, her heart striking an extra beat, an additional palpitation she was convinced only existed because of future possibilities. Mitch’s reentry into their lives represented a possible induction into a lifestyle she’d long since desired.

She loved Mitch. Her strong feelings and compassion for him were reasons enough to want him in her life, but she also craved what he could give her sexually. He would offer her unadulterated passion, a level of intimacy Brock and Rory had refused to give her. Even though Brock and Mitch had once introduced her to a taste of submission, Brock later dismissed the idea of Domination and submission.

Had he thought she was too fragile? Had he feared she wouldn’t embrace the lifestyle like he once had?

Trixie didn’t possess all the answers, but she held on to what she knew with absolute certainty. Mitch would insist on her submissiveness. Anything less would be unacceptable.

She shivered as her husbands’ voices faded in and out. Mitch represented an element of excitement and adventure. What woman would ignore what he promised to bring to an already thriving relationship?

“Trixie?” Rory snapped his fingers. “Are you still with me?”

Jolted to attention, Trixie muttered, “Yes.”

“Honey, Mitch isn’t the same man we once knew. If I thought for a minute he could make you happier than you are now or if he could somehow fit into our lives, I would be the first to arrange a meeting with all of us.”

Trixie’s eyes filled with tears as the betrayal shook her to her very core. “Instead you and Brock met Mitch without me. Then, you planned this rendezvous so you could keep me away from Mitch.”

“You’re right,” Rory said, conceding. “And I’ll never apologize for the choice we made.”

“Colony’s Cow Camp,” Mitch mumbled, pulling to a stop in front of the large iron gates.

He remembered the day he took control of the day-to-day operations as camp administrator. The first order of business had been to contact Rory and Brock and make sure his childhood friends were still on board for summer positions.

At the time, he remembered thinking he would need to negotiate Brock’s return. The summer prior to his promotion, they’d spent a volatile summer with Jordie Anne. They’d partied more than they’d worked and the end result had been catastrophic.

Jordie Anne had ended up addicted to drugs. She’d left Cow Camp for an emergency committal to a nearby mental health facility.

His vision blurred. His back stiffened. He’d carried tremendous guilt for more than a decade, often beating himself up as he considered the vibrant young woman Jordie had once been and the lunatic she’d later become.

He and Rory had often been at odds that last summer Jordie Anne spent with them. Rory insisted Jordie’s addiction developed because of Mitch’s dominant personality and his overwhelming desire to make her submit to his every need.

In the end, he had to agree with Rory. The submissive living inside her had actually been her downfall. Once Mitch was behind bars, she didn’t know how to live without him and another personality emerged, one he didn’t know how to help, much less control from afar.

Mitch entered the camp at about ten miles per hour even though he realized there wasn’t anyone there to monitor his speed. He didn’t have to watch for careless campers as he rounded the bend and passed the tennis courts.

He didn’t need to stop at the huts on the hill to make sure the counselors were in their cabins before the signal for lights-out. There were no counselors to reprimand, no children to see, no parents to greet. Long gone were the clotheslines draped in beach towels and swimsuits.

The place was abandoned. Even the open-air gymnasium looked like an eyesore. Some of the maroon siding was barely attached. The weather had likely worn the once-polished floors. Cobwebs hung from the main entrance, proving the indoor-outdoor facility hadn’t been an area of concern for the camp’s caretakers.

He parked in front of the sidewalk leading to what was once used as the craft hut. Beyond the small shack, a rifle range had once been used as an afterhours gathering spot for the counselors interested in socializing with their peers.

Everywhere he looked then reminded him of fond memories, summer days spent out on South Holston Lake with Rory and Brock, and later with Jordie Anne and then with Trixie.

Maybe coming there hadn’t been the best idea.

Shoving his hand in his pocket, he retrieved his keys and left the vehicle. He’d stay in the lakefront home his grandparents had once occupied. In the morning, he’d go down to the island and have a look around.

The drive from Asheville took longer than usual and he was beat. He needed some rest. After a good night’s sleep, perhaps he would figure out what to do with the information Ansley had given him.

Trixie still loved him. Maybe after she had some time away with Brock and Rory, they’d return to Asheville and Ansley would tell Trixie about his visit.

Then, if she wanted to find him, she’d look for him. She would know where to find him.

Twirling his keys, he set out on the path leading to the lake house. About halfway down the trail, he heard, “I was hoping you’d come here.”

Startled, Mitch wheeled around. “Who’s there?”

“Who’s there?” A laugh resounded. “Is that any way to greet an old cellmate?”

“Cash?” Mitch narrowed his gaze. “Cash Whitehead, is that you?”

“Who else would know where to find you?”

The full moon above them provided good visibility once Cash stepped beyond the gymnasium overhang. As Cash made his way toward him, Mitch could see the broad smile across his former cellmate’s face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Mitch asked, wondering if he should be alarmed or merely thankful for the company.

“I’ve been waiting on you,” Cash said, greeting him with a handshake and slap on the back. “I had just about decided to give up on you!”

He grinned from ear to ear as he studied him intently. “Where have you been, buddy?”

Mitch shook his head. “That’s the question of the century.”

“I’ve been waiting on you.”

“So you’ve said. Twice.” Mitch paused and considered why Cash might have chosen to come there. Perhaps he had nowhere else to go. “What are you doing here?”

“I had my brother’s driver bring me out here. You told me once you’d put me to work if the two of us ever saw the light of civilization again, so here I am, hoping for a job.”

Mitch chuckled. “As you can see, there’s not much work around here.”

“You have a hell of an opportunity here, Colony. If you don’t make this place work for ya, you’ll never make it in the real world.”

“I hear ya,” Mitch said, pointing to the raised ranch-style home behind him. “Have you been down to the lake house?”

“No, but I made myself at home, as much as I could, in the barn. That loft apartment isn’t much but the electricity is on. I’ll owe you some money for utilities.”

“How long have you been here?”

“A couple of days,” Cash replied. “I figured if I didn’t see you, I’d leave a note and a few twenties. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Some host I am.”

“My thoughts, too.” Cash slapped his back. “It sure is good to see you, friend.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Mitch said, pointing at the trail leading to the water. “Let’s see what we can rummage up to eat. The caretakers were supposed to stock the house and the refrigerator down at the lodge. I hope you found whatever you needed.”

“Nay,” Cash said, waving his hand. “Lance’s driver took me grocery shopping before he provided a lift out here. I had pretty much everything I wanted anyway.”

“Good. Good.” Mitch walked ahead of him.

“Is that woman you told me about meeting you here?”

Mitch stepped onto the front porch of the house, found the brass key he needed, and unlocked the door. He motioned Cash inside and flipped on the overhead track lighting. “No, I don’t think so. She’s out of town and I haven’t talked to her.”

“Hmm,” Cash said, the mischief dancing in his eyes. “Haven’t seen her since you’ve been out?”

“No,” Mitch replied. “I tried. My attempt was met with great opposition.”

“What kind of opposition?” Cash asked, following him to the galley kitchen.

Mitch tossed the keys on the breakfast bar, opened and closed a few cabinets, and checked the refrigerator for snacks and drinks. “Can I fix you something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.” Cash sat on a barstool. “And you’re avoiding the question. This opposition…did it appear in the form of two men, those fellas you once thought of as your buddies?”

Mitch faced him. “As a matter of fact, it did. Why?”

Cash shrugged. “Just askin’.”

“How long were we cellmates, Cash?”

“Four years.”

“You know me as well as anyone else. Right?”

“Probably so. All a man has when he’s behind bars is great conversation and endless dreams. We talked a lot. I consider you a friend. Figure we know one another pretty well. Why?”