Their Summer Heat (16 page)

Because everything they said was true.

And she knew it.

But that wouldn’t stop her from poking the angry herd. After flushing and fixing her dress, she plastered a smile on her face and opened the stall door.

As she made her way to the sink, you could have heard a feather float through the air and land on the marble floor. The follower had the good grace to blush. The leader had the audacity to look smug.

Summer checked the other stalls while washing and drying her hands. Since they were the only ones in there, she turned to face the two women. “Logan and Max have promised to peel this dress off me—slowly—and fuck me while I’m wearing nothing but these jewels.” She purposely enunciated her Gs because one more crack about her southern drawl just might cause temporary insanity.

She turned and headed for the door. When she pulled it open, she looked over her shoulder and pinned the leader with a stare. “Oh, and I’m not wearin’ any panties.”

Both bitches gasped.

In the hallway, she grinned. “Damn, that was fun.”

“Did you say something?”

Spinning, she found Wallace falling in step with her. “No. Nothin’.”

“I don’t know what you’ve done to the Prestons, but they are extremely upset.”

“Men are like children when they don’t get their way.”

“And women?”

“We’re just bitches.”

Wallace chuckled. “I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole.”

“You are exceedingly wise, Mr. Wallace, exceedingly wise.”

Logan waved them over to a table and held the chair out for her. “Max is getting you some champagne. When you get hungry, we’ll hit the chow line.”

“Is that your way of sayin’ you’re hungry now?”

“Nope. I’ve already been there.”

His grin was beautiful, and she would miss both of them, from their boyish features to their sincere concern for her, to their prowess in the bedroom.

Max returned with a flute of bubbly in one hand and two low-balls in the other.

“Has Wallace or the FBI found anyone suspicious?” she asked him.

Max took a sip of his drink. “Nope, but they truly don’t suspect he’ll be here. He’s smart and calculating, but time wasn’t on his side.”

“But he can’t resist. Trust me, he’s here somewhere. It will be interestin’ to see if he can be at two places at one time.” Summer hoped to the dear Lord the FBI could protect the remaining women.

The night continued without much fanfare. The Prestons had donated a sizable sum, as did several other people with society-sounding names she didn’t recognize. She hardly read the newspaper, and when she did, the society pages were the last things she perused—if she read them at all.

Several people stopped by the table to chat, and she suspected they were actually fishing for information. No other table sported one woman and two men, but the brothers seemed oblivious to the casual but curious glances and the hushed murmurs.

When the DJ played something slow and mellow, Max hauled her up and onto the dance floor.

He pressed his erection into her belly. “I’ve been waiting all night to get close to you.”

She pushed back. “Really? Whatever do you mean?”

“I’ve had lots of time to think about what we’ll do to you later. I can’t decide which toy I plan on using first.”

Her breath stuck in her throat as possibilities romped through her mind.

“I think we’ll start with a butt plug in that tight little ass of yours.” His warm breath whispered against her ear. “Because when I get inside it, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

“Promises, promises.” She ground her belly into his erection as her own need rose.

“Minx. You’ll pay for that when my hands land on that delicate ass of yours.”

“Promises, promises, promises.”

“If I was one hundred percent certain we weren’t being watched, I’d spank you right now.”

“Let’s not give the waggin’ tongues anymore to wag about.”

Max nestled his head against hers and led them in a slow circle. “Does it bother you? The wagging tongues, I mean.”

“I’m pretty much immune to those types of things, but I have respect for others, and I’m sure our relationship would offend some people.”
Like your parents.
“There’s always more at stake besides ourselves.”

“That’s pretty smart.”

“That was my mama’s sayin’.”

“You miss her, don’t you?”

“Yes. I miss both of them. My daddy—before the drinkin’ and gamblin’—was a super great guy. I was fortunate. My childhood was normal and happy. And yours?”

“We were spoiled. Mom’s fault, by the way, which mean’s she’ll spoil you silly when she gets the opportunity.”

Summer should have known not to open that door. Pointing out that his momma wouldn’t get the chance would only bring them both pain and anger. When the song ended, Max took her hand as they weaved back to the table.

Logan looked directly at her. “Are we accepting lunch tomorrow or not?”

“Why don’t you two go to lunch, and I’ll stay home and prepare for your return.”

“Why won’t you go? It’s just food,” said Logan. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t do parents.” The brothers might believe their momma and daddy were perfectly okay with Summer’s arrangement with their sons, but she didn’t think so. Several men and woman had watched how each brother touched her, how they leaned in to whisper in her ear. Only the blind couldn’t see the ménage taking place.

“I’ll be glad to see your parents right now, but I’m not goin’ to lunch.” This wasn’t a negotiating point.

Following her lovers through the crowd, she was amazed to learn they seemed to know every person at each table. The young women gave the Prestons their best smiles, while Summer felt the men’s—young and old—gazes lingering on her breasts.

Even a few married people were letting their eyes wander.

When they reached the Preston’s table, Logan introduced the two other couples seated with his parents. Jack stood and gave Summer his seat.

“We’re heading to the bar,” he said. “You beautiful ladies want anything?”

Summer shook her head, and Mrs. Preston asked for a glass of wine.

“And we’re hitting the dance floor,” said one of the other ladies. As the table cleared out, Summer suspected a setup.

“So, tell me all about yourself,” said Mrs. Preston.

“Em. I’m in college majorin’ in psychology and hope to graduate next semester with a bachelor’s degree.” That was a lie. The serial killer had interfered with this semester, so, technically, it would be two semesters, maybe three if all the courses weren’t offered. “And then get my master’s.”

“Good for you. How did you meet my sons?”

“I met Max at the courthouse and Logan at the Bergeron Cancer Gala.”

Mrs. Preston grinned. “I wondered if you’d met them before the gala.” Her eyes sparkled. “According to the papers, you stood them up, true?”

“I did. I had to work, and I really don’t like bein’ manipulated.”

Their momma patted Summer on the hand. “Oh, you’ll do just fine.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Both of my sons have steamrolled their way through everything and everyone. It’s nice to know they can’t do that to you.”

No, they can’t.

“Most of the women my sons have dated are too eager to please.”

Summer’s gut clenched.
Please, please don’t ask me which one I’m dating
.

“A man doesn’t want someone he can run over easily. He wants someone he
thinks
he can conquer.”

“Thinks?”

“Of course. We have to throw them a bone and give in every once in a while.”

Summer suspected Mrs. Preston referred to sex, although she couldn’t be sure. But every word about the game of seduction made sense. Before Summer could reply, the bitch from the restroom took the seat beside Mrs. Preston.

“Hi, Mrs. Preston. How have you and Mr. Preston been?”

“Hello, Christy. We’re doing just fine. How about yourself?” Maggie’s gaze cut to Summer’s.

“I’m good. Mrs. Preston, I feel it’s my duty to inform you of something. Did you know Miss Heat is sleeping with
both
of your sons?”

Heat suffused Summer’s face as her stomach bottomed out. Where was the button to make the floor open up and swallow her?

“I don’t really see how it’s any of your business, or mine, either, for that matter. Christy, you never did figure out why neither of my sons dated you more than a couple of times.”

Christy’s mouth opened and closed like a fish.

“No man wants to date a bitch. Now run along, and try not to let jealousy eat you alive.”

After Christy left in a huff, Maggie gave Summer’s hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry about her. Nobody likes her. I’m not even sure she likes herself.”

A million thoughts rushed through Summer’s mind. How did one respond to the mama of her lovers—emphasis on the s?

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Preston. I wish I could have spared you that hurt.”

“I’m not hurt. I’m elated.”

“You are?”
Are we talking about the same thing?

“Of course. I’ve heard the anguish in both my sons’ voices when they told me you were attacked. And I hear the joy every time they talk about you.”

“I…I…”

“I’m not a prude. I’m glad my kids have found you. If they’re anything like their father, I know they are taking exceptionally good care of you in every way possible, including sexually. I have to admit, it sounds erotic as hell.”

Summer slowly blinked. This conversation could not be happening. And Mrs. Preston made it sound so permanent. Summer wasn’t delusional enough to believe her “experiment” with Max and Logan would be forever.

“One day, you’ll understand, darling. Your kids’ happiness is important.”

Temporary happiness. The fairy tale always ended with, well, “The End.”

But she was glad Mrs. Preston wasn’t stroking out about the experiment. Lord knew how Mr. Preston’s blood pressure would react to the news.

Summer’s cell vibrated in her purse. “Excuse me.” She pulled it out and typed in the cryptic password Max insisted she put on her phone. Pressing the message button, she selected the newest one. There was no text, but a little icon indicated an attachment, so she clicked on it. After a few seconds, a video opened. Images flashed across the screen. Pictures of her in her blue gown. Shots of Max, Logan, Wallace, undercover waiters, some men she didn’t know but suspected were the FBI agents…

Fear edged like ice through her veins.
He’s here.
Her phone beeped again. She opened the new message and clicked on the link. It was a website.

And she stared at herself on the screen.

In real-time.

The camera panned, and Mrs. Preston came into view. Summer stood, pulled the startled woman to her feet while trying to find the source of the video stream. Summer tugged Maggie away from the table.

Please, please, please don’t let anything happen to their mom.
As she hauled the sputtering woman behind her, she searched for Max, Logan, Wallace, undercover anybody.

“Miss Heat,” said Special Agent Benson. “Are you okay?”

“No. No. He’s here.” She shoved her phone into his hand and scanned the room, looking for someone she might recognize, someone who seemed out of place, someone who looked like a killer.

Benson talked into his sleeve, and two seconds later, ten or so people surrounded her, all of them with guns.

When warm hands encircled her waist, she leaned back into Max.

“What’s up? You okay?”

“He’s here. Sent a live video of me and your mom.”

Logan folded Mrs. Preston into his arms and asked her not to ask questions until later. She appeared miffed but held her tongue.

“Where’s your daddy?” Summer asked. He wasn’t in the circle of fear. She spun to face Max. “Your daddy. Find Mr. Preston.”

Max rose up on his feet and peered over and around people. Her heart thudded in her chest like a Ping-Pong ball. A psychopathic serial killer would deviate from his normal victims to prove a point. After all, she had challenged him, spit in his face.

This was all her fault.

Max pushed Summer toward Logan and grabbed one of the waiters by the arm. They disappeared outside the protective circle. Logan hugged her to him. Mrs. Preston’s eyes were round, and dear God, Summer hoped their mama hadn’t picked up the desperation in Summer’s voice about the woman’s husband.

Blood pulsated through Summer’s ears like a thumping bass drum as fear gripped her heart in an intense squeeze, as if delivered by the mythical hand of Thor. With hysteria closing in, she shut her eyes and dragged in a ragged breath as slowly as possible, then exhaled back out just as measured.

A woman’s shrill scream caused Summer’s body to jerk. Gooseflesh careened over her skin. Logan pulled her head into his chest, but she pushed away.
Where is Mr. Preston? Dear Lord, don’t let that scream be for him.

Agent Benson left the group, taking two men with him. She peered through the brief break in the circle. The murmur of the crowd rose but still sounded like a muffled whisper to Summer.

Sirens drawled on in the distance. An announcement echoed in the room, ordered everyone to sit and not leave. Her circle didn’t obey.

After several minutes, Mr. Preston pulled his wife into his arms. Summer had never felt such relief. He didn’t offer any information, but his face was pale, worry lines etched deep.

Someone said there was a dead body, and Summer fought back the bile rising up her throat. Forcing the thought from her mind, she focused on replaying the night in her head, to tax her subconscious to find the killer. The blinding flashbulbs when they got out of the car hadn’t allowed her to see past them. Next was their entrance, which had been uneventful. Concentrating on looking beyond the people to whom she’d been introduced, she searched the shadows of her mind. Was it a waiter?
Someone dressed in a tux?

A camera or a cellphone flashed. Summer blinked.

“Find Agent Benson,” she said to Logan.

Logan looked at her as if she was crazy but sent one of the men to look for the agent.

When Agent Benson finally returned, Summer said, “We need all the cellphones and cameras. He has to be on one of them.”