Ultimate Sins (29 page)

Poor Rory Malone. Amelia hid her amusement as he directed a chastising glare her way. He really didn't deserve that, but he was one of the black-clad shoulders she couldn't see over whenever she wanted to leave the house. And he was also one of the men pounding on the Carter brothers the day before.

“Amelia, I told you, I don't hire flunkies,” Crowe growled as he entered the room from the dining room.

He wore snug, low-slung jeans and a black shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled to just below his elbows, the tail tucked into the belted band of his pants. The dark colors called attention to his hard abs and powerful thighs.

He'd exchanged the boots from yesterday for a pair of more traditional cowboy boots, though he'd opted against a Stetson.

She only smiled. A tight, mirthless curve of her lips that held not so much as an ounce of amusement. She ignored his glare, just as she had been ignoring it all day.

“Call off the damned flunkies, Crowe,” John snapped. “I do live here with my sister when I'm in town whether you like it or not.”

Crowe grunted at that, though he did give the security personnel a tight nod to dismiss them.

Amelia shook her head as Rory turned and left the room. “As long as you remember that's the relationship,” Crowe drawled.

Anger flashed in John's gaze.

“Screw you,” he muttered, the anger hardening his tone as Crowe leaned against Amelia's mother's antique wood cabinet, his arms crossed over the broad width of his chest.

Crowe only chuckled at the suggestion as Amelia turned back to the colored drawing she'd been working on.

“How long will you be in town this time?” Crowe asked him.

“Until I leave.” Lazy disregard filled John's expression. “Do you mind if I talk to my sister for a few minutes or is she under some damned house arrest I wasn't aware of?”

Crowe straightened slowly. “Since when do you have a problem with your sister's protection, John?”

The latent warning in his tone had Amelia turning back to the two men with a frown.

“Since I walked into this house to a tension thick enough to cut with a knife and the knowledge that you're playing into this fucking county's attempts to ostracize her by keeping her locked in here.”

Crowe turned back to her mockingly. “Have I locked you in, Amelia?”

She took her time tucking her pencil behind her ear before breathing out heavily. “I'm allowed out of the house as long as the living wall of muscle you hired is shuffling in place around me.”

John's stormy gaze narrowed. “Meaning?”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “You know, six of his flunkies surrounding me, shoulder-to-shoulder, and taking every step I take? A living wall.”

Crowe slid a long, lazy look her way. The amber gleam in his gaze held a promise of retribution.

She would have been worried where that look was concerned, but it wasn't as though he would actually hurt her. At least not physically.

“Big mistake, Crowe.” John shook his head as a rumble of laughter vibrated in his chest. “But the original question stands. Can I talk to my sister alone?”

Crowe shrugged. “Just do yourself a favor and don't let her talk you into letting her leave the house without protection the way she managed yesterday and again this morning.” Crowe shook his head at her. “And how she had the gall to lie to a friend like Rory, I haven't figured out yet.”

“Are your tightie whities still in a twist over that?” She acted surprised. “Really, Crowe, I just wanted to check the mail.”

Crowe turned to John. “Rory assumed she meant the mailbox at the end of the driveway, not the post office in town. She'd managed two of the six blocks before the rest of us caught up with her. And that was after assuming she would never do anything so stupid again after several drunks caught sight of her yesterday when she slipped out of the house and made it to town. They were dragging her into the town square after deciding she made a handy tool to punish Wayne for his crimes.”

Amelia sniffed indelicately. “I told you, Crowe, that wasn't a serious threat.”

“Threatening to take turns raping you before they sliced your heart out is definitely what I call a damned serious threat. Dammit, you just told me last night you understood that you shouldn't have left the house alone.” He turned on her incredulously. “For God's sake, Amelia.”

“He uses that phrase far too often.” Crossing her arms over her breasts and cocking her hip challengingly, she chanced a glance at John. “It was the Carter brothers. And until he allows me to go to the jail where he had them thrown and discuss this with them, then yes, he and I are at odds and all bets are off when it comes to obeying his trifling little dictates.”

“For God's sake,” he muttered again.

“Uh huh,” John agreed as he caught her look before turning to Crowe. “She's not going to listen to you where those three are concerned. Give it up.”

The exasperation in his tone had a smug smile tugging at Amelia's lips, all but enraging him. Watching her, Crowe couldn't believe the rebelliousness and sheer determination she possessed.

“You'd make a mule question your damned stubbornness,” he bit out, gritting his teeth.

“They're bozos and they were just drunk,” she reminded him. “Last year they threatened to sell me to white slavers after raping me. Crowe, I told you, they can't be taken seriously.”

The look on Crowe's face wasn't comforting in the least. It was downright dangerous. John watched the argument with far too much curiosity.

“Amelia, do you really think I'm going to continue to allow that?” Crowe asked, his voice strangely gentle considering the savage gleam in his eyes.

“Why bother.” Pulling the pencil from behind her ear and tossing it carelessly to her desk, she shot him a furious look. “It's not as though you'll even be here to make it stick if you do try to stop it. So why not just stop with the damned threats already.”

Amelia was tired of dealing with this.

She'd thought, after the past night and the hunger she'd felt in him, the emotions she could have sworn she saw in his gaze as he took her, that he would soften at least marginally. But he'd refused to even discuss the Carter brothers with her, or allow her to call Archer after he hadn't answered her email.

“Dammit, Amelia, since when have you even given me a chance to take care of anything today?” he accused her, his voice a hard rasp now. “I've been so fucking busy chasing the damned glitches on that computer I haven't had time to do anything else.”

“All I needed was a yes or a no,” she reminded him furiously.

“All you need is a damned spanking for being so fucking stubborn.”

She saw it in his face then. He had no intention of taking her to the jail. No intention of allowing her to see the three brothers.

Swallowing tightly she squared her shoulders, blinking back the tears of betrayal and turning to John, resolving to herself that if Crowe could cut her out of a decision so crucial to her own peace of mind, then she could at least give the appearance of cutting him out of her heart.

“How long will you be home?” she asked, ignoring the rasp of pain in her voice. “I know the house seems a little full at the moment, but the security agency that stepped in and took control of my life is rather large.”

“Amelia,” Crowe growled dangerously.

She didn't so much as flick him a glance. “And I'd fix dinner, but there are a lot of mouths to feed and currently, no cook. I'm not exactly safe around the stove.”

“Sounds like another pizza night,” John offered with somber gentleness.

“Pizza it is.” She nodded. “Though as with all things, you have to check with the warden before ordering. He tends to be a very cautious man. Let me know what he says.”

Turning on her heel she moved back to the desk, picked up her pencil, and turned back to the drawing.

*   *   *

Crowe felt like punching something. He had a feeling if he hit the wall, though, all he'd gain from it would be sore knuckles.

“Might as well give in,” John sighed. “When it comes to those three, from what I understand, even Wayne gave up protesting.”

“Because he knew they'd kill her eventually,” Crowe grunted.

“If that's what I thought, then I would have already taken care of it.” John shrugged, his voice lowering. “Or called you. I understand you take care of dirty little projects like that free of charge, without so much as a request.”

Of course, the bastard worked with Ryan Calvert so he no doubt knew of Stoner Wright's demise.

Crowe stared back at him icily, daring him to go farther, well aware that despite the lowering of his tone, Amelia could hear every word her brother uttered.

“What are you after, John?” Crowe said.

“The truth.” John shrugged. “Just the truth. Rather like these tabloids I'd say.”

From the pack at his feet, John bent and pulled a handful of newspapers from inside before tossing them to the floor. Uppermost and center was a picture of Amelia at the news conference she'd given, Crowe standing behind her.

The caption read,
Is Amelia Sorenson Crowe Callahan's baby mama?
Beneath the caption, in smaller letters,
Sources close to the Callahan family hint that Crowe Callahan and Amelia Sorenson may be announcing an addition to the family soon.

From his periphery he watched as Amelia's hand lifted, pressing to her chest as the whispery sound of a sharply inhaled breath was heard.

“Crowe?” His head lifted, his chest tightening at the somber fear in her expression. “Did you do this?”

“I didn't refute it,” he told her coolly.

No, he hadn't done it, but he also hadn't bothered to deny it. Wayne would draw his own conclusions and as long as Crowe kept Amelia protected, then it wouldn't harm her.

“That's the reason for the shoulder-to-shoulder living wall, little sister,” John stated mockingly. “He's terrified Wayne will slip out of reality and just take a shot at you.”

“But why not just tell me?” She didn't take her eyes from him.

Amelia couldn't believe he would do something like this—endangering her deliberately.

Crowe's expression wasn't giving away anything but his anger as he shrugged. “Once the article was on the stands, Wayne would believe whatever he wanted. Refuting it wouldn't have done any good.”

“Wouldn't have done any good?” John snarled, moving between Crowe and Amelia as he glared back at Crowe. “You're fucking playing with her life, Crowe, and I don't like it.”

“Back down, soldier,” Crowe barked.

Amelia wondered who was more surprised—her or John—when her brother did just that.

The knowledge that he had reacted out of instinct twisted John's expression with morbid amusement.

“Don't get in my way, John,” Crowe warned him then, the dark warning sending a chill racing up Amelia's spine as she watched the confrontation. “You'll regret it.”

“What will you do, Crowe? Put a bullet in my head like you did Stoner's? The body count is going to start adding up and you haven't even taken out the Carters yet. Tell me, Crowe, is my sister aware you killed her husband, or is that a secret you only shared with your uncle?”

Amelia turned slowly, shock shuddering through her as her gaze pivoted between and Crowe and her brother. She could feel herself shaking from the inside out and heard Wayne once again telling her not to worry about Stoner, he'd taken care of everything. He wouldn't be back.

She'd been certain Wayne had killed him, hadn't she?

She remembered staring at him the first time he said it, an icy chill invading her at the look of smug satisfaction in his gaze. But, she admitted, she hadn't been able to make herself believe he could actually kill Stoner. Stoner wouldn't have just stood idly by as Wayne took a shot at him, or used the Slasher's knife against him.

But had she known Crowe had … No. She refused to even think it. Just as she had always refused to put Crowe's name on Stoner's disappearance. Because doing so would only make her soul bleed harder. It would only make her heart ache more. If he would do such a thing to protect her, then wouldn't it have to mean he loved her? But if he loved her, how could he stay away from her?

Crowe could see the glazed disbelief in her eyes slowly being overshadowed by a shadow of belief. Hell, she had known all along that Wayne was too damned weak, physically, to do anything about Stoner Wright. Just as, Crowe suspected, a part of her had always known that if he ever learned of the abuse she was suffering, then Stoner would die.

“She is now,” he told John as Amelia's gaze turned to her brother then back to Crowe.

“Wayne said he took care of Stoner,” she whispered, her voice tight, her breathing erratic.

Crowe gave a short, tight nod. “Yeah, he did. He made damned sure I knew about the abuse, and when I confronted Stoner he didn't have a second's hesitation in admitting to it. But there's even more, Amelia,” he snarled. “The night he left you, no more than two hours later he was in Aspen attempting to rape a sixteen-year-old. Any reluctance I may have had evaporated when I saw him hit that kid.”

But his mind had already been made up, Crowe knew. He'd followed Stoner from Corbin County to Aspen, the pieces of his specially made rifle tucked securely in the backpack he carried in his truck.

Amelia shook her head. “The body would have been found. Investigators have tracked him. He uses his credit card.”

Crowe snorted at that. “How Wayne pulled that one off, I really didn't care. But trust me, that's a body that will never be found. And don't bother reporting it to Archer or anyone else. Because not so much as a sliver of a tooth exists. And in this case, I promise you, you'll need a body to prove it. Now, you have about three hours before Archer arrives to take you to that fucking jail. I suggest you be ready. Because I'll be damned if I'll take you.”