“I took care of Rowdy already, Kelly. He won’t wake up until I’m gone. I’m going to take care of you, then I’ll punish him, just like Daddy punished me. He’ll learn not to touch what belongs to me.”

She was going to throw up. The insanity that spewed from him was the most sickening thing she had ever known. Worse even than the attack she had suffered at his hands.

“Why?” Her voice trembled despite the effort she used to hold it steady. “He didn’t take what was yours. Why should you punish him?”

There had to be a way to get around him, some way to get to Rowdy. She could lock the bedroom door. There was a gun in the dresser, she had seen Rowdy put it in there. A big black pistol that she knew she could use.

“You are mine!” he snarled, his voice rising in fury. “I took you, I marked you. You wear my mark.”

“I didn’t ask for your mark,” she yelled back, fury rising inside her. “I didn’t want you, John. Love is given freely. You can’t force it.”

He shook his head as his eyes glistened with tears, his lips wobbling with some demonic emotion.

“You didn’t give me time,” he pouted. “You would have told me you loved me.”

“I knew I didn’t love you.” She edged back as his head turned from her. If she could get to the kitchen and he chased her, then she could use the hall exit to get back to the stairs. All she needed was a head start. “I’ve always loved Rowdy, John. Always.”

“No! Mine!” he screamed back at her. “I’ll show you, you’re mine then I’ll kill you.”

He lunged for her. Fury lit his expression as rage transformed his face and he rushed her. Kelly turned, sliding on the slick floor as she heard an enraged howl of fury echo through the house a second before the sound of two bodies impacting pulled her up short.

Gripped the door frame, she turned back, shock filling her as she watched Rowdy struggling with the smaller man. Rowdy was bigger, but the blood at his temple showed the earlier blow that was now slowing his reflexes.

The gun John had carried slid across the room as he fought to get to it. Kelly rushed for it, crying out in rage as a hand snagged her ankle, bringing her to her knees.

Her head turned as she saw the knife in John’s hand, and Rowdy’s reach to grab at his wrist as the other man aimed at her leg. She kicked out, breaking loose before scrambling for the weapon.

Her fingers latched onto the handgrip as she flipped over, bringing it up with both hands as she fought to get a clear shot.

The two men were snarling now, wrestling for the knife as she heard the sounds of sirens in the distance. The gun shook in her hand as she blinked back her tears, terrified that the deputy would manage to actually find a way to wound Rowdy with that knife. There was no way to shoot yet. No way to be certain if she did, that she would miss Rowdy.

There had to be something she could do. But if she did the wrong thing, it could mean Rowdy’s life. She prayed, sobbing in terror as she watched the two men grapple until the knife was between them a second before Rowdy jerked the other man closer to him.

They both froze.

A whimper left Kelly’s throat as the front door crashed inward, and as though in slow motion, she watched Deputy John Barnes-Carlyle slide slowly from Rowdy’s grip to collapse on the floor.

His head turned toward her, his hazel eyes filled with shock and surprise.

“My good girl…” he whispered before his gaze dimmed and his body went limp.

Kelly stared back at him, the sounds of police filling the room receding to the background as adrenaline began to crash inside her. She lifted her head as the gun dropped in her lap, watching as Rowdy began to move toward her, only to have the sheriff block him as the room continued to fill up. She could hear her mother, or was it merely wishful thinking? Rowdy was yelling and Sheriff Mayes was barking orders.

She knew she should get up, knew she should do something. But all she could do was turn her gaze back to the dead deputy as she heard his final words ringing in her ears. “My good girl…”

She wasn’t his good girl. A sob tore from her throat as she pushed to her feet, fighting past the shock winding its way through her. He was dead. He was dead, and Rowdy was surrounded by the police.

“Let him go!” she screamed out hoarsely, fighting past Sheriff Mayes as she struggled to get to Rowdy. She kicked at someone, her fist landed against another, but they parted, staring back at her in shock as she flung herself into Rowdy’s arms.

“Thank God! Baby.” Rowdy’s arms closed around her as his voice whispered in her ear. “Sweet Lord, Kelly. Don’t ever terrify me like that again.”

She was crying and couldn’t stop. She could feel the sobs shaking her body as her arms tightened around his neck.

She could hear Rowdy explaining the deputy’s insanity as he held her close. Somehow, he had managed to regain consciousness and call the police, informing them of who was there and what was going on as he slipped down the stairs.

They were prepared, but questions had to be answered. Dawg and Natches were brought around by the medics and the house continued to fill with people. But Kelly refused to leave Rowdy’s side.

She held on to him through the evening, answering questions when she had to, but otherwise remaining silent as the knowledge slowly filled her mind that it was over. The stalker had been John Barnes-Carlyle, and he was gone. He was dead. It was finally over.

TWENTY-FOUR

Kelly stared around the living room the next morning, amazed that there was nothing left, not so much as a speck of blood, to prove that the night before had been no dream.

The only proof left was the egg-sized knots that had been left on Dawg’s, Natches’s, and Rowdy’s heads. John Barnes hadn’t come to the front door, he had known about Dawg’s back entrance through his father, who had spent years spying on the Mackay cousins, and used it to slip into the house.

He had gotten Dawg first, while Natches was outside getting the last supplies from his truck. When he came in, he had seen the same thing Kelly had, what appeared to be Dawg napping on the couch.

He had moved into the kitchen with the supplies, where the deputy had moved in behind him and knocked him unconscious as well. He had waited until Kelly had left the bedroom upstairs, hiding in the other room until she started down the stairs, before he had disabled Rowdy. Or thought he had.

Rowdy had been coming out of his nap as he was struck; the blow had dazed him, taking precious minutes for him to get his bearings enough to struggle from the bed.

The sheriff had called that morning after running a night-long investigation on his dead deputy. He had indeed been Loren Barnes’s son, kidnapped by his father several years before the Mackay cousins had become her lovers.

There was a long history of abuse as a child, foster homes, and disappearances that hadn’t been followed up on at the time. As the full story emerged, everyone who had known him on the force had been shocked. His father had molested him for years, punishing him for the supposed crimes his mother had committed. Richard Barnes, the father, had been insane, and his insanity had been forced upon his son until it had warped his view of women.

Four women had paid for that crime.

“Feeling better?” She turned her head as Dawg moved from the kitchen, followed by Rowdy and Natches.

She stared at the three men, feeling the tension that suddenly filled the room, the intensity in their eyes. She had known this was coming, had known Rowdy’s cousins would soon put his decision to the test. She could see it in the ready tension of their bodies. There was none of the expected anger in Rowdy’s expression though. His body was relaxed, easy, his gaze simmering with amusement.

“Do we have a problem?” She crossed her arms over her breasts and stared back at the three curiously.

“Rowdy’s being greedy,” Dawg grunted. “How do you feel about that?”

“I’m rather greedy myself, Dawg,” she informed him fondly. “I can’t do it.”

“We wouldn’t hurt you.” She could see the frustration in his face. “Hell, Kelly, our cousins in Texas have survived just fine.”

The Augusts. They didn’t even live in Somerset and they had a reputation here.

She breathed in deeply.

“I’m not Marly or their other wives,” she informed them as Rowdy straightened, slowly tensing.

Dawg glared back at Rowdy then. “You didn’t even give us a chance—”

“You don’t love her, Dawg,” Rowdy snapped, striding across the room to Kelly’s side.

When he turned to face Dawg and Natches, his arm curled around Kelly’s back, pulling her closer to his hard body.

“We love her enough,” Natches protested, his jaw pulsing tightly.

“Oh give it up!” Kelly stepped away from her lover, staring between the three men incredulously, laughter bubbling from her throat at their fierce expressions. “Geez, do I look like a bone between the three of you?”

They stared back at her in surprise.

“Dawg, how many times did I flirt with you, just for the hell of it, while Rowdy was gone?”

“You did what?” Rowdy turned to her in surprised irritation.

“Save it.” She rolled her eyes back at him. “You were gone, so the jealousy is a little late.” She turned back to Dawg. “And I’m waiting on an answer, Dawg?”

Dawg shifted nervously, rather like a little boy caught in a fib.

He cleared his throat, glancing at Rowdy with a grimace.

“You belonged to him first.”

“I’m his always, Dawg,” she informed him gently. “Now, forever, and always. And that’s my decision. Not Rowdy’s. And it’s one you won’t change.”

“I told you she was trouble,” Natches griped. “Dammit, Kelly, we didn’t ask you to mess things up like this.” He cast her a brooding glare.

“You’re welcome.” She smiled back placidly.

They weren’t angry, she could see it in their eyes, feel it in the affection in their gazes.

Natches turned to Dawg and lifted his fist.

“We’re the last.”

Dawg lifted his fist in return, touching it to his cousin’s. “The last.”

He appeared firm, decisive. Kelly tilted her head and watched both men curiously. Natches might never let go of the more extreme needs, but there was something there in Dawg’s expression. Something hesitant. Something uncertain.

“Let’s go.” Rowdy’s arm hooked around her waist, dragging her toward the stairs.

“Where?”

“To bed,” he growled.

“But, Rowdy, I’m not sleepy.”

“I promise, you will be. Later…”

She was laughing as he swept her into the bedroom.