Ultimate Sins (25 page)

“And you're living in a fucking dream world if you think I'm going to have Archer release those men.”

He was in her face now, his head lowered, his nose almost touching hers as he gripped her shoulders firmly and glared down at her.

“I will not do it,” he enunciated clearly, concisely. “Get it out of your damned head.”

“Then I will,” she stated softly, so furious at him that she didn't even bother yelling. “I wanted you to understand, but it's obvious you have no intentions of even trying to.”

“When three sons of bitches attack my woman and attempt to rape and murder her, then hell fucking no.” His hands tightened on her shoulders as his voice rose. “No, Amelia. Don't you think I've lost enough? Don't you think I fucking get tired of having my lovers tortured and fucking murdered? Do you think for even one minute that I'll allow it to happen again, Amelia? Especially to you!”

He froze as he said the words, his gaze narrowing on her, his lips clamping so tight they were a straight line rather than the sensual, eatable curves she loved to kiss.

Just as quickly as he had been in her face, his hands gripping her shoulders, he released her. Turning on his heel he stalked to the double doors he had closed as they stepped into the family room and threw them open before stalking out.

Thank God he didn't see the tears that fell from her eyes before she could turn and dash them away, or hear the sob that escaped her lips. For a moment, she wished she had never pushed him. She wished she could go back and just keep her mouth shut. She should have just called Archer herself rather than trying to talk to him. Archer knew the Carters; he would have at least understood why she didn't want to prosecute three men who had suffered far more than she had over the years.

She had always liked them, despite the fact that Dwight stole her work to cheat on their exams. The day she had reported him to the teacher, she had been dealing with a shock she couldn't process and a pain she had no idea what to do with. She'd looked over and caught Dwight stealing her answers and before she could stop the words she had ordered him to stop.

She hadn't meant to say it so loudly. She hadn't meant to get him into trouble. But even now, she remembered the wounded look in his eyes. Three days later, she remembered the bruised eye that was nearly swollen shut when he returned to school.

And Amelia had known it was her fault. The school had called his foster parents and told on him, and the father in the household had beaten him until he could barely walk for days.

After that, the Carters had begun targeting her. She rarely said anything about it. She had never reported it, and she had never done anything else, ever, to get them in trouble. Especially after Dillon had nearly died of that cocaine overdose, and she'd seen how the weeks he had lain in a coma had affected his brothers.

She still saw the hurt and fear in Dwight's eyes. And she knew that as bad as things had been for her, at least she'd had hope.

That next summer, after Crowe's desertion of her had nearly destroyed her, she'd found another reason to keep fighting. She'd found another reason to hold on to the mercy and compassion Wayne had sneered at her over.

The Carter brothers hadn't had hope, and that was a lesson she had never forgotten. It was one she reminded herself of often and held so deep in her soul that no one, not the man she hated above all others, or the man she loved above all others, could ever guess it existed.

Shaking her head, she moved to the desk and the laptop she kept there. Opening it and powering it on, she waited until the programs loaded and opened her email.

The inbox was loaded with messages. She didn't even glance at them.

Pulling up a new mail, she typed in Archer's address then began the letter.

This would be more official anyway, she told herself. Proof that she had no intention of changing her mind.

The Carter men wouldn't get another chance after this, she promised herself. This would be their last one, and she would make that plain to them. She would even make it easy on Crowe and have Archer pick her up tomorrow to take her to the jail where she would be certain they understood every word she said to them.

She wasn't going to allow them to risk their safety. They weren't thieves. They didn't do drugs. They had never so much as spoken sharply to a child or any woman besides herself. And to her only when they were drunk.

They deserved this one last chance, whether Crowe wanted them to have it or not.

 

CHAPTER 14

Crowe forced himself to go to the security room after leaving Amelia. He had to cool down and think before he headed to the spare bedroom where he stored his rifle. The need to take it apart, clean it, ensure it was ready to perform the second the Carter boys left that damned jail, was almost overwhelming.

He'd heard of the three men who never failed to take out their anger on Amelia if they happened to catch sight of her when they were drunk. The same three men who helped her carry her groceries from the market to her car when they were sober. Or who changed her flat tire one stormy night after she left work.

The contradiction in the men had appeased his worry for her at the time. Of course, he hadn't heard of it happening in the two years since his return. If he had, he would have ensured it never happened again.

Nodding to Cameron, who didn't appear in the least inclined to sleep, he moved to one of the computers set up to play back feed from the security cameras around the property.

The tall, hard-muscled tech hadn't been his idea of an electronic security expert when he applied to Brute five years before, but he'd proven himself over the years.

Rough talking, when you could get him to speak, a brutal martial arts gutter fighter, and a damned sap when it came to women and babies, he never failed to keep whatever team he worked with laughing over his protective nature when it came to his computers and the women or children involved in any of their assignments.

“We had a few shadows on camera four while Ms. Sorenson was out of the house,” the tech, Cameron Fitzgerald, told him quietly, toggling between monitors and zooming in and out to check current shadows. “I'm damned sure it was someone fucking with my cameras, but I couldn't get a clear picture. I marked it on the log and sent it to the gurus at home.”

The
gurus at home
were Ivan's top electronic wizards in Manhattan. The security programmers Ivan had pulled in from the vast network of contacts he'd made over the years could do things with security devices and programs that Crowe had sworn couldn't be done.

Pulling up the recording the other man had marked, he narrowed his eyes on the shadows the cameras had recorded, wondering what the hell was moving in the heavy growth of pine, naked oak, and brush that grew on the perimeter of the yard at the back and sides of the house.

The stone and wrought-iron fence that surrounded the block-size estate did nothing to protect the inner yard, and hampered the cameras set up to watch it.

Seven years ago Crowe had sneered at Wayne's attempt to ensure no one invaded his property. He'd used the very weaknesses he was now cursing to slip through the trees and make his way to Amelia's balcony and then into her bedroom and her bed.

He'd invaded not just Wayne's property, but also Wayne's daughter, he thought in satisfaction. The bastard had played the Callahans' friend for years. He'd had dinner at Clyde's ranch with them, bringing his quiet, somber daughter with him. He'd commiserated with them, assured them he'd do everything he could to help them, then used whatever information he could find during those visits to attempt to frame them.

Watching the video recorded earlier that day, Crowe watched the shadows that kept eluding the cameras' attempts to zoom in. He could hear Cameron cursing on the audio feed, then five minutes later an order to the remaining security personnel to check it out.

All of them.

“You left the house unsecured?” he asked the tech.

Cameron turned to him, his serious, intent blue eyes almost electric in color. “I only had two fucking men here, Mr. Callahan, the rest were out with you. I did a full electronic lockdown on the house while they were out, with all indoor cameras set to detect not just movement, but also temperature change. I had to make a decision, and identifying what was screwing with our cameras was too important. That's our first defense.”

“And this was Wayne's test against them,” Crowe murmured as the program on his laptop began detecting the subtle evidence of electronic interference. “Did Mike patch the cameras into the new anti-jamming hardware Ivan set up?”

“I still have to check the integrity of equipment and software.” Cameron turned to him. “Mike was a sloppy bastard. I've spent about every minute I've had spare just trying to decipher why the stupid son of a bitch plugged what into where. No sooner did I walk in here than shit started happening. But that one's next on my list, after the diagnostic test I'm running is finished.” He tapped the monitor he was watching. “I'm showing temperature changes in this room, and in the kitchen. It's confusing the hell out of me. The temperature modules on the cameras and the security boxes attached to the doors are all working fine. The glitch has to be in the computer.”

“How long before you can track it down?” Crowe questioned, staring at the diagnostics showing on the screen.

“I'm hoping soon,” Cameron sighed. “Otherwise, I'm going to have to track Mike down and beat the fuck out of him for being stupid.”

Crowe moved back to the laptop, his gaze checking the status of the program to detect the interference used to confuse the cameras. He still had several hours left to go.

The time in the control room had allowed him to settle down, though.

“Ms. Sorenson is sending out email at the moment,” the tech noted absently. “To Sheriff Tobias. Should I intercept it?”

“Let it go.” Crowe shook his head. “Anna's still getting email through Archer, just in case Wayne gets stupid enough to email her. It'll make it easier to track from his official address.”

“Fuck yeah,” Cameron answered, his voice distracted now as he keyed commands on the holographic keyboard in front of him.

Crowe almost grinned at the sight of the hard-core marine with his tattooed biceps, savage expression, and intent, odd-as-hell eyes playing that holo-board like a master pianist.

“Give me a call if the audio notification on this program sounds,” he told the other man as he rose to his feet, his gaze moving to the foyer camera, which picked up Amelia leaving the room, entering the foyer, then heading up the stairs.

“Will do.” Cameron's voice was still absent, distracted, but Crowe knew he'd heard every word.

Leaving the control room and moving through the hall, he reached the main wing of the house as Amelia entered the bedroom.

He paused for a moment to draw in a hard breath, still seeing the shattered guilt in her eyes as she talked about the Carter brothers.

He'd read their file. He hadn't wanted to think about it as she spoke, nor while he'd been in the control room. Wayne's vendetta against the Carters hadn't run as deep as it had against the Callahans, but for some reason he'd been determined to destroy them in other ways.

As he continued to Amelia's bedroom, he made a mental note to ask Ivan if he'd run across their names in Wayne's journals, which Amory Wyatt had ensured they received. He needed more information and he was going to need it before Amelia took matters into her own hands and made certain no charges were filed against the little bastards.

Entering the bedroom, he wasn't happy to see she was just changing from the jeans and sweater she had worn into a pair of girlie pajamas. The white leggings and long shirt all but hid her figure and assured him that his little sugar elf didn't have sex on her mind.

She usually came to bed in one of those silky, sexy-as-hell nightgowns he loved rather than this nonsexual body armor, he thought in amusement.

“Am I in the doghouse?” he asked, unable to hold back the hint of a smile that tugged at his lips.

“Do I have a doghouse?” she asked, her expression far too somber.

God, he hated seeing the hurt in her eyes.

“Yeah, you do.” He nodded. “The word
no.
”

Her shoulders lifted as though uncertain before she turned away from him and moved to the bed to turn it down.

“I haven't said no,” she finally said. “But I am tired tonight, Crowe.”

Oh, he just bet she was.

Intercepting her, Crowe tucked his fingers beneath her chin and silently urged her to look up at him.

He wanted to see whatever emotion it was that baffled him.

“I can't help needing to protect you, Amelia.” He addressed the problem the only way he knew how. “I might go about it in a way that offends you sometimes, and sometimes we're going to go head-to-head over it. But I'm not trying to hurt you, or anyone else.”

Her lips tightened as emotions raged in her darkened eyes. He could see, and he could feel, something building inside her, between them, but he was damned if he could figure out what it was.

“Don't worry about it,” she finally gritted out.

“Amelia,” he whispered gently. “You have to talk to me.”

“About what, Crowe?” Pulling from his grip she paced across the room before turning back to him, her hands lifting to rub at her arms as though some chill had settled on them. “What do you think we need to talk about? How you can make me come around to your way of doing things?” Mockery filled the tight little smile she gave him. “See, I'm not real good at that. I tend to get myself in more trouble than necessary because I can't seem to understand the concept of protection that everyone else seems to believe I need or deserve.”

“I didn't ask you not to voice your opinion, Amelia,” he objected, realizing the power she had to strip aside his control over emotions he didn't even know he possessed.