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Jonah slowly pressed the head of his penis against Owen's sphincter, watching, transfixed, as the muscles relaxed and the swollen head disappeared. When the tight ring of muscle snapped around the shaft of his cock, both he and his brother sighed. 'I think that was a sigh,' Jonah grinned, to himself. 'It could have been a hiss, and that jerk of pleasure might have been a flinch. At least, he hasn't told me to stop.' "Ahhh, geez." Owen clawed at the thick rug as he groaned. "Holdup a bit. I feel as if you're splitting me in two." He took a couple rapid breaths and rolled his head from side-to-side. "Y'think this is what it feels like to have a baby?" Jonah bit his lower lip in frustration. 'Here I am, fulfilling a fantasy, and he wants to talk about what it feels like to have a baby! This is torture. "You'll have to ask Mama, 'bout that," he said, as he pushed a little, testing his brother's tolerance. "Yeah, right," Owen managed to say, around a grimace. "Mama may be open minded, but asking if getting fucked in the ass is anything like giving birth, would be pushing the limits, even for her." Owen paused, taking a couple deep breaths as he tried to force himself onto his brother's penis. "Come to think of it, though," he continued, sounding strained, as he tried to think about something rather than feeling like he was being split in two, "Mama would be the only person I know who has given birth. Whether or not she's ever been fucked in the butt, is another thing, entirely." He shuddered. "I don't even wanna think about it. Geez, can you imagine?" "Owen . . ." "Yeah," Owen's response was followed by a grunt of discomfort. "Stop talking. Now is not the time." "Oh . . . okay." "Should I . . .?" Jonah began. "No! Don't stop, just wait a sec. I'm just not accustomed to this, that's all. You're bigger'n either Sam or Lucas. . . . But, if Corey can handle you, I sure as hell can." Jonah leaned forward, lowering his weight onto his brother's back, and wrapped both arms around Owen's upper body. "No one's ever said Corey lets me fuck him," he murmured, as he slid half of his length into his brother. "What?" Owen asked, as his voice slid upward. "I mean . . . owwww!" "No one's ever said he doesn't either," Jonah added, burying the rest of his cock in his brother, and mashing his wiry pubes against Owen's smooth ass cheeks. He leaned forward, resting his chest against his brother's back and kissed his neck and shoulders. 'Oh, yessss,' he silently sighed, enveloped by Owen's warmth. 'The man's tryin' to be a fuckin' comedian!' Owen groused, as he tensed. 'At a time like this. A comedian! And he tells me I talk too much!' 'It's like I'm pushing into a too-tight glove,' Jonah thought, as pulled almost free, then slowly slid forward. This time his brother's groans were ones of pleasure instead of discomfort. "Oh . . . Jo," Owen exhaled, as he pushed back to meet his brother's increasingly aggressive thrusts. "Y'okay?" Owen nodded. "S'good. Love it." One of the small logs on the fire broke apart with a swoosh and a glitter of sparks. 'Geez,' Jonah thought. 'The room's 'bout as hot as Owen's hole.' He shook his head, sending small droplets of perspiration flying. 'He's milking me,' Jonah realized, as Owen tightened his sphincter and pushed back, meeting each thrust with one of his own. Owen's actions mirrored his brothers, slow and deliberate one moment, then frantic and forceful the next. "Cum in me, Jo," he murmured. "Fill me with your juice." Instead, Jonah pulled free. "Wha . . .?" Owen looked over his shoulder. Jonah grabbed one of his brother's legs. "On your back. I wanna be able to kiss you as I shoot." "Yessir," Owen mumbled, hurriedly turning onto his back. He drew his knees back to his shoulders, exposing his gaping hole to his brother, who was kneeling close-by, slowly stimulating himself. "C'mon, Jo. Slide in." Jonah positioned himself between his brother's raised legs, but, instead of immediately returning to his fuck, he rolled Owen back onto his shoulders, and buried his face between the spread cheeks. "Jonahhhh . . . please," Owen whimpered. "I'm freakin' dying here, wantin' your juice. I need t'shoot." Jonah sloppily tongued the opening, then leaned forward and sucked his brother's cock into his mouth. Instead of sucking it, Jonah remained still, working the underside of Owen's penis with his tongue. "Oh, geez!" Owen gasped, his mouth wide, as he gulped air. "You're gonna make me . . ." He arched his back, and reached for his brother's head, pushing him down onto his penis with all his strength. "Oh . . .," Owen gasped, as he thrust. "Oh . . . Jooooo," he groaned, a moment before his body shuddered and his thick sperm blasted into his brother's mouth. The first shot splashed against the back of Jonah's throat, causing him to involuntarily swallow. He was prepared for the second shot, and the third, as his brother filled his mouth with sweet juice. Jonah wanted to swallow, but he had other ideas. He released Owen's cock and, as his brother watched, wide-eyed, Jonah drooled out a thick strand of sperm onto his brother's butthole, causing the whimpering to resume. "You like being fucked with your own sperm used as lube?" Jonah asked, in a low voice, as he positioned the head of his penis at the sloppy opening, then pushed inside, in one smooth thrust. "Oh . . . Jo . . ." Owen managed to say before his brother's mouth, and tongue, found his. "C'mon, Jo," he murmured, turned on more than he could have imagined by having Jonah inside him, and the taste of his own sperm on his brother's tongue, "Fill me up." Jonah was madly thrusting his hips, completely surrendering himself to the sensations of being surrounded both by his brother's hole, and slippery sperm. He shook his head, sending perspiration flying. "I'm 'bout there," he grunted, feeling his orgasm beginning to build, and Owen's cock begin to thicken in response to the aggressive fucking. He slowed, almost pulling free, then slid back . . . once . . . twice. The next stroke was slow and deliberate. Once more, the full length of his penis slid into his brother. Owen tightened his sphincter and gripped his brother's arms, at the same moment Jonah's orgasm swept over him. Jonah took a shuddering breath as his cock began to pulse. Each pulse was accompanied by a jerk and a slight grunt. Instead of collapsing in exhaustion, as Owen expected, Jonah slipped free, and rolled Owen back onto his shoulders. As he made little animal sounds deep in his throat, he slurped his own cum oozing out of the sloppy hole, while Owen madly stroked his own penis. When Jonah realized his brother was about to climax a second time, he leaned forward and drooled out a strand of his sperm onto Owen's open mouth. The moment Jonah's sperm touched his tongue, Owen grunted, and shot two strong jets of jiz. The first splattered against his cheek, while the second splashed onto his tongue. He opened wide, allowing Jonah to see the thick white puddle, then nosily swallowed, as his brother lowered him onto his back and allowed him to stretch out. "Um, um, good," Owen chuckled, with a twinkle in his eye. When Jonah stretched out at his side, Owen gathered him close and brushed a strand of damp hair away from his brother's forehead. "Promise, me, Jo, that this will not be the last time we make love. After this, I don't think I'll ever be completely satisfied with only one of your hugs." Jonah drowsily smiled. "It's a promise, big brother. It's a promise." * * * 'Franklin thinks he's won,' Elizabeth Pruitt frowned, in disgust, as she watched the leaden clouds through the airplane's window. She'd thought about nothing other than revenge, during the long flight from Atlanta to London. 'He has not won, and he will not . . . as long as I have a breath in my body, he will not best me. He's only a puppet! Someone has to be pulling the strings. He's mentally incapable of doing anything other than to follow orders. He hasn't the sense, or balls enough, to make decisions on his own. He needs me to tell him what to do.' She snorted. 'The bastard never could think for himself. That's one of the things I've always hated about him. 'Someone's doing this. Someone's managing him, telling him what to do. But . . . who?' She glanced at her two oldest children, and daughter-in-law, asleep in adjacent seats. 'I don't really hate Lisa and Kirby,' she thought. I just don't care about them . . . whatsoever. Kirby's had a few moments of mediocrity, doing things on his own. His moments of brilliance, though, have come when he's followed my orders. 'Lisa . . . she's useless. I've put up with the two of them, but if I never see them again, it'll be too soon. 'It's the others I hate,' she sneered, grinding her teeth. 'All of them. They're capable of independent thought, which could cause me problems. If I only knew which one,' she thought, digging her fingers into the seat's armrest. 'It'd be easier if I knew which one to take care of. As it is . . . ' She sighed, the seeds of plans already forming in her mind. 'I could have emotionally tied Franklin and his money to me with only one child, but noooo, he couldn't stop at one. The scheming, conniving, bastard . . . tied me to him, with a bunch of rug rats. And me, too fuckin' scared to end each pregnancy! Mother's to blame for me being afraid . . . bleeding to death, like she did, getting rid of that kid of hers. 'All I ever wanted was to have a good life. What's so wrong with that? It's all mother's fault! All my problems have been caused by her. Mother,' she thought, in disgust. 'That bitch never did anything for anyone. All she was interested in was herself. 'Same was true of Daddy. The lecherous ol' bastard never thought he'd get caught, stepping on all those people, as he fought his way to being elected governor of the State. The people he bribed along the way remained quiet . . . as long as he was in power. Same with the ones who were in his back pocket, skimming the State's money for their own uses. Those people he associated with, who had some morals, bided their time, waiting for an opportunity to strike back and bring the evil governor to his knees, or worse.' Elizabeth snorted. 'People like that never think they'll get caught. 'I remember the day the legislature voted to impeach Daddy for his crimes against the State. He couldn't believe what was happening. Right up until the votes were cast, he was valiantly trying to bribe some of the legislators to change their vote. Of course, he was using someone else's money. 'Mother and I didn't want to have anything to do with him, after his disgrace. I mean, what good was he to us? He was a used-up nobody. The only thing he had to look forward to was being indicted and sent to prison.' "You always were too power-hungry," his wife had smirked, turning up her nose at the broken man. "I was happy to support you, when I was the State's most important woman, but now . . ." She'd given her husband a scathing look. "You're only getting what you deserve. You're a washed up old fool, who never had the nerve to make sure your enemies would never be able to attack you. "Elizabeth and I are leaving you to your fate," she said, as mother and daughter slammed the door to the governor's mansion behind them, without so much as a backward glance. Elizabeth smiled. 'I loved that scene. It was classic enough to be in a first-rate movie! There was father sniveling and making an ass of himself, and Mother and me, our heads held high as we left him to his own fate. Of course, Mother had cleaned out the bank accounts, leaving poor ol' Daddy all alone. Served him right for endangering Mother and me, making all those enemies like he did. Money-hungry ol' bastard. 'Mother divorced the old man, changed her name, and plunged into Atlanta society, using either the money she'd hidden away, or stolen, to support herself. That was brilliant!' Elizabeth smiled gleefully, recalling how her mother had described how she'd taken a large portion of every dollar her husband earned, or stole. 'Then, the stupid bitch got herself pregnant!' Elizabeth remembered laughing, as her mother carried on about how the man she'd been seeing was totally irresponsible for getting her, HER, the former First Lady of Atlanta, pregnant. 'Serves the ol' girl right, for sleeping around like that,' Elizabeth thought, enjoying the sight of her strong mother, frightened like a school girl. "This is not to be tolerated," she told Elizabeth. "I will not be saddled with yet another bastard. I had you and look at all the good that got me." Two weeks later, she headed off to a less than reputable clinic, 'to save my reputation,' she told Elizabeth, before leaving the house. Then, she was dead, and, a only days after that, the so-called doctor was arrested, and his clinic shut down. 'I was on my own,' Elizabeth thought, recalling her anger upon discovering the meager balances in her mother's bank accounts. 'That's when Franklin came into my life.' She ground her teeth together in impotent anger. 'His father had recently died, naming him heir to Pruitt Construction. He was nice enough looking,' Elizabeth recalled. 'Tall, athletic, with the most wonderful pale green eyes I'd ever seen.' She remembered how she'd recoiled when he told her he was in construction, envisioning him digging ditches, or something equally distasteful, during the day. He'd laughed, his rich music-like laughter, and told her he left the digging to others. He had been trained to manage things, and build. She'd listened, bored to tears, as he described his dreams of leaving behind a legacy of buildings for his future sons to expand upon. 'He was so naive,' she recalled, and because of that, he was . . . perfect. He was good looking, and, what was more important, he was rich. 'Perfect,' she remembered thinking, as she hatched plans to become the wife of Franklin Pruitt. He had no brothers, sisters, or parents to wonder at the whirlwind courtship, followed by the impressive wedding his wife had staged for herself. There was no one to give him advice . . . other than her. There was no one to meddle. 'Franklin was . . . perfect.' The life of parties, dining at the country club, idle gossip, expensive clothes, and living the good life, as a beautiful jewel standing next to her handsome husband, never materialized. 'I might as well have never been married,' she thought, at the time. 'The man doesn't care about the country club, or standing at my side and showing me off to his friends. He's married to a job. No one I've ever known had to . . . work.' And, what's worse, she could not imagine anyone who had to work actually enjoying it. Franklin loved it. He lived for it, and the more Elizabeth realized how much Franklin loved what he was doing, the more she grew to resent him. Then, she found herself pregnant. 'It can't be!' she silently screamed, after the doctor confirmed the findings, for the second time. 'It's allhis fault. I don't want a child. I despise children . . . all their crying and carrying-on, all the demands they make, all the . . . care they require.' She asked the doctor if there was a way to end it, by taking a pill . . . or something. He'd laughed, and she wanted to stab him with one of his instruments. "I can't have an abortion," she'd wailed, when he suggested it. "My mother died, having an abortion. She bled to death!" She remembered grabbing the doctor by the lapels of his white coat. "I can't have an abortion!" she screamed. "I'll die, if I do! Just like Mother!" "Then you should not have allowed yourself to become pregnant, my dear," the doddering old fool had said, as if the pregnancy were her fault. He backed away from her, and made a hasty retreat from the examining room as she lost her temper. She'd hated that she was billed for the damage she caused to the examination room. 'If he'd been more understanding, nothing would have gotten broken. 'And just look at what I've ended up with, after all my sacrifices . . . a lily-livered husband, and a slew of ungrateful children, tagging along, always wanting something, always making demands, thinkin' they're better'n they really are, taking time that I should have been spending on myself. 'So . . . here we are . . . making our merry way to meet Hugo, or Wolfgang, or whatever he calls himself. There's no way we'll be lucky enough to escape the authorities. They'll be all over us the moment we step off the plane, all because of Franklin and one of the boys.' The plane touched down with an authoritative thump. 'Doesn't the damned pilot know how to fly this thing?' she asked herself. 'Even I could drive it better than that!' She looked at her two children . . . Lisa, sleeping open-mouthed, hair in disarray, and Kirby, appearing starched, even while asleep. Beside him sat his poor, prim, wife, Wanda. 'Dumb as a stump. If she had an original thought, it'd die of loneliness.' Elizabeth softly snorted. 'Even though she needs to be told when to breathe, at least she follows orders without question. The only difference between her and a trained dog, is that she doesn't have to be let outside at the most inconvenient times.' Elizabeth shook her head, dismissing the three adults from her thoughts, with practiced ease. 'I can't stand this one moment longer,' she thought. She stood, while the plane continued to taxi to its assigned gate, drawing the irritated looks of other passengers, and the quick action of a flight attendant, who hustled toward her. "Ma'am," she warned. "You must remain seated until the plane comes to a complete halt." Elizabeth snorted. "See if you can make me, Sister. I do what I want, when I please, so get your ass away from me or risk losing a few teeth. I'm not in the mood to take any shit from the likes of you!" * * * 'Geez, I hate all this waiting,' Nathan groused, as he sat in the midst of a crowd of other passengers awaiting their flights. 'I feel as if I'm abandoning Dad. He needs all the support he can get, and, without me, whom does he have to lean on, or talk things through? 'No matter what I accused her of, I just can't imagine Mother would actually plan to have Riley or me killed. Still . . . Dad thinks it's a real threat, so . . . who am I to argue? I don't fancy the idea of being a target, for Mother, or anyone else. If I don't calm down, though, I'm going to start seeing killers everywhere I look. I feel . . . vulnerable. Maybe I should have taken a roundabout route to get to Riley's, to better throw her off, if she is planning something.' A chill rippled up his spine as a woman, resembling his mother, flopped onto the seat next to him, heaving a melodramatic sigh. She turned and grinned, as she fanned herself with one hand, and clutched at a carry-on bag with the other. "I am plum worn out," she announced, to anyone within ten feet. "Y'know," she said, turning in her seat, to face him. "I'm no dummy, just 'cause I'm blond. That's what m'husband thinks . . . that I'm dumb as a stump, just 'cause I locked myself in the car a couple'a times. Does that mean I'm dumb?" she asked, her voice rising. "Now . . . does it? "Now, he's gotten himself lost. I wasn't 'bout ready to stand on the curb while he parked the car, like he told me to. I mean, with all the humidity, my hair would go limp, and I can't have that? Can I? Now, he's lost. It's just like him to pull something like this. I mean, my hair! "I mean, I've gotta look good, since the man sees fit to haul me to hell n'gone, just 'cause he doesn't wanna leave me at home." She leaned close. "It's cause'a my drop-dead sexy body y'know." She knowingly nodded. "He's afraid every neighborhood Tom, Dick, and Harry, will come calling, lookin' for a chance to fondle the goods." She glanced toward her chest, lest Nathan not understand, then crossed her arms, her lips set in a grim line. "Just 'cause I was like that in high school . . . well, and some in college, and a little after that, he thinks I still am." She sighed. "Well, to tell the truth, I am, but not as often as he thinks. After all, a girl's got to have fun!" she pouted. "Say, does my hair look okay? I gave it a few extra spritzes of hair spray, just to make sure it'd hold up." She turned from side to side, gently patting her hair, giving Nathan her version of a coquettish-like smile. When she realized Nathan had slid to the edge of his seat, prepared to bolt, she batted her eyelashes. "Say, you're cute." "Um, thank you, ma'am." Nathan gulped furiously thinking of what to say. "Um," he repeated, then decided to go for broke. "My boyfriend thinks so too. He'll be along, shortly." "Boyfriend!" She launched herself out of the hard plastic chair and stalked away, with her nose in the air. 'Well,' he thought, slowly exhaling in relief. 'I'm not sure which is worse, being stalked by a mystery killer, or by a horny woman. 'A mystery killer,' he thought, his mind returning to the reason he was at the airport. 'Am I a target? I mean, until a couple'a hours ago, Mother thought I was going to Europe with her. When she left, she was so worked up I don't think she was thinking of too much other than being royally pissed, and wondering how close the authorities were, behind her.' His fist clinched in frustration, and unfolded reluctantly, as he tried to calm his troubled thoughts. 'What does Dad know that he's not telling me? When I made up that claim 'bout her wanting Riley n'me dead, did I accidentally stumble onto something real? 'Then, to top it all off, what does the FBI have to do with everything? I made that bit up, too, yet Dad told me he got a legitimate call from his new attorneys, telling him that the FBI appears to be investigating everyone. 'Could Dad be shipping me off so I don't learn of something he's done?' Nathan shook his head. 'Nah . . . I've got to stop thinking of reasons for everything that has happened. 'If I hadn't created a scene, just 'cause I didn't want to go to Europe, and to help Dad come up with a reason why he wouldn't go, everything would have been fine. Mother would have gotten her way, and we'd all be on an airplane heading for a wedding. 'But I did create a scene. Dad did stay in Atlanta. Mother's pissed, and now, Dad wants me away from Atlanta, for my safety. Period! That's all the stuff I know for sure. Everything else is speculation. Dad'll tell me more whenever he thinks it's safe for me to know.' * * * 'I wonder what Jonah's doing,' Corey thought, finally free of the storm. He smiled. 'Probably hangin' out with Owen and Sam, seein' what sort of mischief he can get into. 'The poor boy is so serious, all the time. Someone needs to light a fire under him and get him to loosen up a little. 'Course, with his background, I'm not surprised he doesn't joke around. The one time he was most free was that time in the field. He was laughing then. We're all too serious, me included. None of us laugh enough. We're all so absorbed in our problems, we don't stop to enjoy the world. We need to learn to let our guard down. We need to allow ourselves to be vulnerable. Owen, even with his background, is doing it.' Corey sighed. 'Ahhh, Owen. Carrying the weight of the world around on his shoulders, wondering when he's gonna be yelled at, or slapped around. He knows the man who did all that to him is dead. He intellectually knows it, but that doesn't mean anything. The bastard still rules Owen with an iron fist. 'There's so much anger seething around in him, he's never gonna recover until he lets loose and gets it all out in the open.' Corey drove through the darkness, the only vehicle on the highway. 'I'm not sure I wanna be around, though, whenever he does let loose. I'm surprised it all hasn't been tryin' to get out, already. He's kept his feelings bottled up for so long, no tellin' what he might do.' * * * "I should know better than to wear white jeans," Sam grumbled, as he gingerly made his way home from his parents'. The trees and sodden underbrush seemed intent on blocking his way. Of course, it didn't help that the heavy cloud-cover blocked whatever moonlight there was. 'I should'a just taken the pants off and walked home in my underwear, with my jeans stuffed in a bag, all nice n'dry. It's night! No one'd see.' He grinned, imagining his mother's scandalized reaction to her son walking around . . . in public . . . in his underwear. 'It's probably just as well she doesn't know about us guys running around in the fields, naked, not to mention the things we do in bed, and in the shower, or the kitchen, or living room, or out by the river. Sort'a makes running around in my underwear tame by comparison.' He chuckled. 'Owen, Lucas, and I are quite a team. 'The apartment's gonna feel strange, with Lucas away for a few days. It's the first time the three of us have been split up since he and Owen showed up in Riverton. He's been goin' on about an idea for a new project. Sort'a makes me wonder what he plans on doing once he runs out of ideas for projects in Riverton.' Sam brushed aside a dripping branch and stepped off the gravel path, onto the Main Street sidewalk, and into a yellow puddle of light cast by one of the town's old fashioned streetlights. 'Hmm,' he grinned, as he greeted a couple out for an after-the-rain walk. 'I guess it was probably for the best that I didn't strip off to my underwear. With my luck, I'd probably run into Maxine, and then who knows what sort of rumors would be circulating. 'She's just aching to find something to use against us guys which will give her a chance to cause a stink. The thing is, 'Ol' Maxine's a troublemaking bully . . . a withered-up ol' stick. She thinks she's so sexy, walking around dressed up like a one-dollar hooker. Hell,' Sam snorted. 'Those jeans she wears are stretched so tight, a person can see the name on the pack of cigarettes in her back pocket'. Sam shuddered. 'With all the smoking she does, the woman's voice is lower'n mine.' He chuckled. 'That wouldn't take a whole lot of doin', though. I hate how she's flickin' her ashes everywhere, dropping matches n'stuff, makin' everything a mess. She's gonna catch something on fire, if she doesn't watch out. 'As Corey would say, she gives me the heebie jeebies.' From across the street, Sally called out a greeting and waved at him, as she wished her last two customers a good evening, then switched off the restaurant's lights and turned back toward the counter, leaving the sidewalk in front of her place to the flickering neon glow of the sign announcing,Sally's Cafe. He grinned at the piece of paper she'd attached to the glass on the restaurant's door, announcing her policy of, "No shoes, No shirt, No service. This means you, Owen!" 'If Owen had his way, he'd never wear any clothes.' Sam smiled, recalling how the first thing Owen would do, whenever he came home, was to strip, either naked, or to his underwear, and loudly sigh, "This is how a man should live." After repeating the same words day after day, now, either Sam or Lucas would beat him to the punch, and call out the phrase before he had a chance. Inevitably, a laugh-filled wrestling match would ensue, which, more often than not, led to an evening of lovemaking. * * * Kirby Pruitt squeezed past his sister and sank onto the airplane seat, between his sister and wife. 'Even if this is first class,' he thought, 'the seats are too damn close together.' He took a deep breath and massaged his forehead, trying to gather his thoughts. Ever since his youngest brother announced he wasn't going to be accompanying them to Germany, and the resultant quarrel, culminating with his father deciding to stay behind, and learning that the FBI was investigating himself and his mother, things had gone from bad to worse. "Well, what did you learn? Where is Mother?" Lisa whined, glancing around the airplane cabin, as if her mother would suddenly appear. "She should never have talked to that stewardess like she did, then go off to the back of the plane in a huff." Lisa looked over her shoulder, toward the tourist-class seats. "I can't imagine her sitting back there, with the poor people. That wouldn't be like her, at all. She knows Helmut will be waiting, when we land. What am I supposed to say if she's not with us? 'Sorry, my dear, but I seem to have misplaced my mother?' What sort of impression is that going to make?" "I bet they took her off the plane," Wanda added, wide-eyed. Lisa paused, took a deep breath, then turned to the woman. "Well, Wanda, I must say, we're all feeling refreshed after hearing the first thought you've had today. Nitwit," she mumbled, as she turned away. "Lisa," Kirby, her older brother interrupted, grinding his teeth in frustration. "Do you have any idea how inane you sound? "Huh? What's that mean? Are you calling me names?" "It means stupid, dear sister. I am referring to you." Lisa opened her mouth, but was stopped from saying anything by her brother's raised hand. "They wouldn't tell me if they escorted Mother off the plane, back in London, or if she left voluntarily, but she is definitely not here." He squirmed in his seat, doing his best to face her. "Don't you have any idea what is going on?" He watched in exasperation, as his sister shook her head, wide eyed. "We are in trouble. Big trouble." He ignored his sister's squeak of protest, as well as his wife's vice-like grip on his arm. "And . . . the woman you are talking about, is the person who built the house of cards which is about to collapse on us. Now, she is free, leaving us to be apprehended by German authorities the moment we step off the plane. Typical move by our dear mother. "You and I have been content to play her game of screwing Father, for years, because we've personally benefitted. We convinced ourselves that whatever we did was okay, because Mother ordered it. We pushed our sense of right and wrong, right out of the door, all because Mother told us to, and," he added, "because we are greedy . . . just like her. There is never enough money, or influence, or power. Well, little sister, the time has come to pay for everything we did to Father." "But . . . Mother . . ." Lisa began. "We were adults. We knew what we were doing. No court, no matter the jurisdiction, would ever fall for the argument you were about to make. None! We are guilty, just as is Mother. Right now, I would like nothing more than to twist her scrawny neck until I hear it snap!" Kirby accompanied his words with a twisting motion of his hands and the sound of a loud snap, which caused both his sister and his wife to flinch. "What would one more crime be, on top of everything we've already done?" Kirby sighed, sinking back into his seat. "We've all thought of Father as some sort of grinning fool, good for nothing but making loads of money, which we were content to steal. Well, back in Atlanta, he showed all of us he's anything but. Mother thinks Father doesn't have a backbone. I'm confident Mother is wrong. What we witnessed, back home, was not something he did on the spur of the moment. If he's hired a new law firm, he's been working on building a case against Mother, the Winton Firm, and us, for quite some time. Mother's too blind to realize what he's done, and how much planning it has taken. "I don't know what it's all about, but I've seen the books, and I know, for a fact, that Mother has been paying Gustav very, very well . . . for something. Mother has been using Father's money to pay her lawyer-friends for years. It all started not too long after you were born." He speared his sister with a stern look. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about where all that money has gone, would you?" Lisa mutely shook her head, from side to side. "So, dear sister . . . It seems as if Father has found out what has been taking place behind his back. I don't believe, for a moment, that he was joking about the FBI. Mother, Gustav, and I, have done plenty which the FBI would find interesting, and if we're involved, you are involved, for having received embezzled money and all sorts of things, which the FBI frowns upon. I'm sure you have also done things, at Mother's bidding, so don't claim to be blameless. Since the FBI missed us, back in Atlanta, they are sure to have notified the German authorities, who will, no doubt, be meeting us in Berlin. We'll then, most likely, be locked away for a long time, if Father has anything to say about it. After he learns of the things Mother, you, and I have done, he'll probably request we be held in Germany, in some sort of dark hole of a prison." "Prison!" Kirby's wife choked. "A dark hole?" she squeaked. "Kirby," Lisa asked, in a small voice. "Was she really planning to have Riley and Nathan killed, or was that something Nathan made up to upset her?" Kirby thought a moment. "I can't say, for sure, but my gut instinct would be to agree with Nathan. She hates him and Riley. She tolerates us, but, believe me, she'd be much happier if we were out of the way. Mother looks out after herself. Unless someone is indispensable in helping her realize her plans, they are useless. "Mother likes to think of herself as being used by everyone. She enjoys playing the victim. Nothing is her fault. Everything is the result of someone else's blunders. "Lisa, whether you realize it or not, Mother hates everyone but mother. We have been nothing more to her than a means of achieving one of her goals. Now that we're no longer useful, she'll throw us out with the rubbish." * * * Sam grinned, as he passed Owen's library building, its windows dark. 'I don't think even Lucas realized how deeply moved Owen was by Bailey's gift. Bailey n' Lucas, and everyone, just figured Owen would be gracious, and thank everyone. Oh, he did all that, but, deep down, he was embarrassed by the attention, and confident he'd done nothing to justify it all.' Sam recalled how Owen climbed the steps to the porch of the building, in a daze, and made a brief speech, then accepted the congratulations of the many people who hung around to give him a hug, shake his and Bailey's hand, and get a tour of the building. It was only later on in the afternoon, when Owen touched Sam's shoulder and asked if they could go home for a few minutes, that Owen's emotions could be held back no longer. 'I knew that touch, and his expression, meant something important was on his mind.' Sam recalled the look in his friend's eyes. 'I mean, people were getting ready to eat, and he wanted to go home.' "Owen?" Sam asked, when they'd entered the apartment. "You okay?" He encircled Owen's waist with his arms and drew him close, feeling his lover melt against him. "Ohhh, Sammy," Owen managed to say, as tears began to roll down his cheeks. He rested his head on Sam's shoulder, returning his friend's hug. "I . . . I don't deserve the honor I've been given. Not in a million years would I deserve something so grand," he said, between sobs. "I feel trapped, like I'm livin' a lie. People seem to think I'm special, or something. I'm not!" his voice rose. "I'm just a regular guy." He sniffed, "And, here I am being given a gift like nothin' I could have imagined." He hiccoughed. "It's too much." Sam held his lover while he cried himself out, then led him to the sofa, and cuddled close. "What am I gonna do?" Owen asked, in a small voice. "If I keep it, people will think I agree with all the stuff Bailey said, 'bout me savin' his life n'all. All I did was offer to be his friend, and tell him he was stronger than he could imagine. That's it! And, suddenly I'm some sort of hero, or something. I don't know what to do," he mumbled, as he linked fingers with Sam. "All this talk about me being someone special is too much. I'm nothin' special. I'm just an ordinary guy. He's makin' me out to be some kind'a saint, or something. There's no way I can thank him enough for what he's done, but I'm not what he claims I am." Sam softly snorted. "Well . . . I don't know about a saint, but," he added, when Owen gave him a dry look, "You are special . . . to everyone who knows you, especially us guys." Sam tenderly ran his fingers through his friend's short hair. "Owen . . . you've already told Bailey how very much you appreciate what he's done. That's enough. There's no need to keep on thanking him, or telling him you don't deserve his gift. You've gotta remember that, sometimes, an offer of friendship can turn someone's life around. That's what happened with Bailey. He has felt a deep obligation to thank you for what you did. For you to not accept his gift would hurt him more'n I can imagine." Sam took a deep breath. "You're worried 'bout all the money he's spent, aren't you?" Owen nodded once, then sniffed. "Sammy, he's paying Corey n'me a good salary, plus he's covering all the costs for the school and library from just the interest from the Trust, or Foundation, or whatever it's called, that he and his father's set up. The interest! I can't begin to think in terms of that much money!" Sam shook his head in amazement. "I made a similar argument to him when he told me what he was planning, and asked me to help him out. He looked at me like I was kind'a crazy. "Owen," Sam said, moving back so he could see his lover's face. "Bailey comes from a completely different world than you or me . . . or even Lucas. Lucas has money . . . lots of it . . . but, Bailey is rich. We . . . you and I, would have to scrimp and save for a long time to buy one of those computers, which are stacked up over at the library. How many do you think there are, over there . . . twenty . . . thirty? To Bailey, they're nothing. He's not tryin' to show off, or make you feel bad, or anything. He can no more imagine himself in our shoes, than we can imagine being in his. This is just the way he is. "So, give Bailey a big hug and kiss, then, let it go. Bailey's gonna do the same thing. He's not gonna keep carrying on about you helping him out. He's done that. The library represents his thanks, in brick and cement. He doesn't need to say anything more. The building does it for him. "So," Sam concluded, reaching out and tilting Owen's chin up. "Gimmie a smile, and let Bailey and all your friends go on feeling proud to know you. Okay?" Owen shrugged. He sniffed and swiped at his teary eyes with a hand, as he gave Sam a shy grin. "Thanks, Sammy. Like always, you've made me feel better." Sam leaned close and kissed Owen on the cheek. "I'm glad. Now, we'd better get your face washed. Your eyes are all bloodshot n'stuff. If you're not out there laughing and joking around, eating a couple hamburgers, n'stuff, people are gonna wonder if you're sick, or something. Okay?" he asked, as he stood, offering Owen a hand to help him stand. Owen had been missed. Lucas, with his mother at his side, was the first to seek Sam out and ask if everything was okay. "He's just feeling overwhelmed by the attention, is all," Sam explained. "He needed a shoulder to cry on. He's doing okay, now." "Are you sure?" Olivia asked. "That beast of a woman hasn't been picking at him, has she?" "Y'mean, Maxine?" "Who else?" Olivia gave him a thin-lipped nod. "That woman thinks the sun comes up, just to hear her crow." "Mother!" Lucas laughed, from where he stood, at her side. "Olivia!" Sam teased. "I'm surprised." Lucas' mother made a toss away gesture. "It's colorful, though not original. I heard Corey say that about someone, back when he was in school, and he and Bailey were visiting." She grinned. "It does seem appropriate though." "Owen's not been bothered by Maxine. If he had been, he can take care of himself. Because he's a sweetheart, some people might think he's a pushover. He's not. He's way stronger than any of us realize. No, it's not Maxine. He's worried that people are thinking of him as special, when all he is, is a normal guy." Olivia snorted, and crossed her arms. "Normal, my great aunt's false teeth!" "You care for him a great deal, don't you?" Sam asked, resting a calming hand on the slight woman's shoulder. "Yes, I do. Sam . . . when I told all you boys, that you were like family to Neil and me, I meant it. I'd come to the defense of any one of you, not just Owen." She smiled, as she heard Owen laugh, in the distance. "He is especially dear to me, though." * * * Lisa wasn't the only passenger to be anxious. They'd been circling Berlin for over an hour, waiting for the dense fog to lift. The pilot had just announced they'd been given permission to land, and they'd begun a descent into clouds, dense enough to prevent Lisa from seeing the end of the airplane's wing. "I don't like this, Kirby," she muttered, turning a worried glance on her brother. "I can't see anything out there. It's the middle of the day and I can't see anything." "Quiet, Lisa," he said, his voice soft. "There's nothing any of us can do but sit and hope the pilot knows what he's doing." "Sort'a makes all the other stuff that's happening, trivial, doesn't it?" Kirby answered by taking her hand, and giving it a gentle squeeze.
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