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The car hurtled down the ramp into the public parking garage, beneath one of the large downtown buildings. People scattered, and barely had a chance to turn to one another to ask their neighbors what could possibly be happening, before another car careened around the corner, jumped the curb, and sent sparks flying, as the underside of the vehicle scraped the concrete. Tires screeched as the car, with two men inside, swerved to avoid a pedestrian, and clipped a traffic light, which fell, in exquisitely slow motion, onto the street, it's light flashing a steady red signal. Pedestrians, whether they were in the path of the car or not, ran, as the second car, shrieking in protest, swerved back into the street, leaving behind smoldering tracks and the smell of hot rubber, as it shot down the ramp, into the cavernous garage. "There!" the driver of the second car shouted, pointing toward a battered vehicle, crossing their path at the end of two rows of cars. His companion leaned out of the passenger window, and pulled the trigger of his weapon, twice. The shots echoed in the vast space, while, ahead, the car they'd been pursuing swerved, scraped against the concrete wall, and disappeared down a ramp leading to a lower level. "DAMN!" his companion bellowed, in frustration, slamming on the brakes as another car, its occupants oblivious to the sounds of bullets, and squealing tires, backed out of a parking space, and blocked their path. The driver of the car in pursuit, blew the horn, gestured rudely, then threw the vehicle into reverse, backed down the drive lane, swerved, squeezed between two parked cars, and flew down the ramp, following their prey. "We've lost her!" the passenger shouted, wildly searching for their target, his weapon at the ready. "The GPS! Check the tracer we planted on the car!" the driver howled, in frustration, as he slowed and began working his way up the ramps, hoping to deal with Elizabeth Pruitt and escape the parking garage before the authorities arrived. "It's not moving!" his colleague shouted, pointing to the small screen attached to the car's dashboard. "She can't be too far away!" As they rounded a corner, Elizabeth Pruitt's car, the car they'd been following more than halfway across the country, sat, abandoned, blocking their path. The driver's door was open, while the passenger side of the vehicle showed evidence of the recent skirmish with the concrete wall. The back window, and front seat passenger window were missing, and one of the rear tires was flat. The engine continued to run, but, even from where the two men sat, they could see the vehicle was empty. "We've got'a get out of here," the passenger hissed, looking one way, then the other, as he concealed his weapon. "She's not here, and someone's sure to have called the cops." "Her purse!" the driver yelled. "Did she take her purse? Is that tracker moving? Check!" he bellowed, as he squeezed past the abandoned vehicle and headed toward an exit ramp, scanning the parked cars, as he drove past, hoping to see their prey. "YES!" the passenger cried, then quieted as the driver approached the payment booth, and explained to the attendant that he'd lost the ticket he'd been given when he entered the garage, and offered to pay for the full day. The attendant wasn't pleased, but there was nothing she could do. There was a line of anxious drivers forming on the garage exit ramp, so she charged the dark-suited man for the full day, then waved him onward, where the car quickly disappeared into traffic. "She's moving?" the driver asked, tearing his gaze away from the police cars converging on the garage exit ramp, each one with its sirens blaring and red lights flashing. "Yes! She must have her purse with her! She's moving in the opposite direction, though," the passenger added, twisting to look over his shoulder, as if he would be able to find her among the throngs of people crowding the sidewalks. * * * Elizabeth crossed the street, surrounded by five-o'clock crowds of people, heading home from work, as police cars raced past, blocking the exit to the parking garage she'd just left. Only minutes earlier, she'd ditched her car, just as she'd done so many things in her life . . . the lover by whom she'd had that damned boy-child, her oldest son and his wife, her only daughter, her position in society . . . everything . . . just to exact revenge on her husband, her youngest sons, and that bastard boy, Micah, whose name she'd only learned from newspaper reports of her murder attempt. All the people she'd dumped had played a part in ruining her life, and she was determined she would make them pay for what they'd done. 'The handsome, dark-haired one . . . Micah. He's nothing but a bastard,' she thought, not for the first time. 'If for that reason alone, he deserves to die. His existence has made my life miserable. He also escaped me, just as Franklin did! I've sacrificed everything for those men, and what do I have to show for it? I'm stuck in some godforsaken town, with no car, and very little money. I'm being followed by people who want me dead, and I'm no closer to getting rid of the boys than I was when I started! I want revenge for all the misery I've faced in my life. Someone is going to regret how they've treated me. I am a delicate flower of society. They'll regret trying to make me into something I'm not.' She ducked into one of the large buildings lining the sidewalk, plopped down onto a bench beneath some trees and an over-arching skylight, and tried to catch her breath. 'My car,' she inwardly groaned. 'I had to abandon my car!' The fingers, and their roughly trimmed nails, trembled, she ran them through her hair, trying to coax it back into some semblance of order. "What are you staring at?" she snapped at a couple of gawking teenagers. She made a shooing motion. "Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of and leave me alone!" The young girl giggled, but gave into her companion's urging, and followed him out of the building, but not without a final backward glance. "What am I going to do?" Elizabeth asked herself, aloud. 'My money's nearing exhaustion, and I don't even know what city I'm in, or how I'm going to get to that Riverton cesspit, from here.' She opened her purse and began to rummage through its contents, looking for her phone, smiling, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, as she made a decision. 'I'll call Gustav! He'll know what to do! He'll wire me some money, I'm sure of it. That way I won't have to access my last reserve. Good, ol' reliable, Gustav. We've been buddies for years. Dear Daddy introduced us. Not even dear Gustav though, could do anything to help that bastard father of mine avoid all his political enemies as he fell from power. Daddy never could face reality. That's what caused his downfall.' Finally, frustrated at not being able to find her phone, she turned her purse upside down, emptying its contents onto the bench. "Ah ha!" she smiled, as she grabbed the phone and began stuffing her belongings back into what had, once, been a designer purse. Elizabeth looked up, startled by the sound of a man's voice. "Madam," a plump man in a security guard uniform said. "I must ask you to leave the building's premises." "Oh . . . of course. I was resting a moment, searching for my telephone," she responded, patting her hair and batting her eyelashes, trying to use the charm she'd spent a lifetime cultivating. She scooped up a last handful of items and stuffed them into the purse, unaware that what appeared to be a credit card had slid off the bench and now lay on the polished floor. "Um," she tried to appear embarrassed, as she stood, gathering about her what remaining dignity she possessed. 'I've faced the old harpies at the Club, I can certainly face this . . . man,' she thought, in disgust. "This is going to sound strange," she said, wishing she'd had time to touch up her makeup, belatedly realizing she wasn't wearing any. "Um, could you tell me what city this is?" she asked, in a small voice. "What city?" the guard asked, in an incredulous tone, blinking in surprise. "Yes." She smiled the same calculated smile which had melted the hearts of every man she'd known. As she expected, the guard couldn't help but answer. "It's Oklahoma City, Madam. Now, I must ask you to move on." He gestured toward the doors to the lobby. "Of course. Of course. I'll be going now. Important places to be, you know," she added, as the guard held the door open for her, then turned and disappeared back into the lobby, pleased the scruffy, smelly, woman was now someone else's problem. "Where the fuck is Oklahoma City?" she asked herself, smiling sweetly when someone who was passing turned to stare. "I don't even have a clue what state it's in, or even if it's in the right direction to get to that mud pit of a town I'm heading to. Traveling cross-country is done in an airplane, not in a dusty car, with blown out windows, and someone shooting a gun at you. After all, everyone knows anything of any importance is either on one of the two coasts. Everything in the middle is for poor people." Inside the lobby, the security guard picked up a few small bits of paper the strange woman had overlooked, and dropped them into a nearby rubbish container. 'What's this?' he wondered, as he stooped to pick up a credit card-sized piece of black plastic. 'Doesn't look like a credit card,' he thought, glancing toward the lobby doors. The woman, who'd been standing outside, the last time he'd looked, was now gone. He dropped the plastic card into the same container as the few bits of paper the woman had left behind, then brushed his hands together and continued on his patrol. "It's stopped moving!" the passenger reported. "The signal was moving until a few seconds ago. Now, nothing." He craned his neck, looking out of the window, and up at the tall building. "She's in there . . . somewhere," he said, in a worried voice. "How're we supposed to find her in someplace like that? She could be on any one of those floors! We might never find her!" * * * "Elizabeth!" Gustav Winton said, trying to sound pleasant, while he seethed inside, at the mere sound of her voice. "To what do I owe the . . . ahem . . . honor? I thought, after failing to kill a member of the family, for the third time, that you might have turned your gun on yourself." He chuckled. "With your luck, though, you would have missed. My dear, you really should give up this vendetta-thing. You just don't do revenge very well. You are incapable of handling things yourself, and the people you hire are inept. Tsk, tsk." He listened as Elizabeth, his one-time partner-in-crime, rambled on about her misfortunes, then interrupted, when she began complaining about her father and mother, and not being treated well as a child. "I don't care about your unfortunate childhood, or that you're almost destitute," he said, breaking into her litany of childhood slights. "Nor, do I care that you're stuck in . . . what? Oklahoma City, you say? Without a car?" This time, his chuckle morphed into a laugh. "My dear, Liz, you have been busy, haven't you? Why, Oklahoma City, if I might ask?" Gustav listened as Elizabeth, the woman he blamed for all of his misfortune, described how she'd managed to track the location of her two children down to some mud puddle of a town named Riverton. 'No doubt in the armpit of the world,' Gustav mused. "Wait! You said you were without a car. What happened?" the attorney asked, suddenly attentive, wondering if Elizabeth had been able to throw the men off her trail he'd hired to kill her. Weeks earlier, they'd told him they'd planted a tracking device in her car, and another in her purse. Since she was asking for money to get a replacement car, though, she actually might have been able to shake them. 'You may not be very good at revenge,' he thought, as Elizabeth described the harrowing cross-country trip, through, "miles, and miles, and miles, of godforsaken country, crowded with poor people," culminating in her having to abandon her bullet-riddled car, with the "bothersome" flat tire, which "exploded" as she drove over a security barricade. Gustav laughed at her description; at the same time, he wondered why his hirelings had yet to check in. "Do you still have your purse?" he asked, intimating that she should have money available. Instead, he wanted to find out if she still had possession of the second tracking device his men had planted. While she was reassuring him that she still had her purse, Gustav was madly trying to figure out what to do. 'The men should have no trouble finding her. Still . . . Elizabeth, seems to be leading a charmed life. I told the men to terrorize her, before doing the deed, but they've gone too far, following her on a merry chase half-way across the country. She'd been able to avoid capture, at least twice, and was now, unwittingly, asking the man who sought her death, for help, giving him all the information necessary for his lackeys to find and complete their job. "Okay, Liz," he said, a plan forming, as he spoke. "I'll call a car rental company, in one of the hotels in downtown Oklahoma City and arrange for you to pick up another vehicle. I'll pay for it, though I must say, bailing you out of one mess after another is getting to be old. I've got enough problems of my own, my dear. The FBI continues to make my life tiresome. There's even some brute camped out on the front steps of my home! I have very few employees left, and my business has ceased to exist." 'All because of you!' he wanted to scream. 'Maybe, with any luck, the men will be able to capture her, either at the car rental facility, or shortly thereafter,' he told himself, feeling a delicious thrill, knowing Liz was about to die. 'The world will be a better place with her gone,' he told himself. 'Someone should give me a frickin' medal!' He was about to cut the phone connection, and, instead, ended up dumbfounded, shaking his head, in disbelief. "Okay, Liz. Here's your answer, so listen-up." He spoke slowly, as if to a young child. "Oklahoma City is in the state of . . . are you ready for this . . . Oklahoma!" He barked a laugh and pressed the button on his phone, cutting Elizabeth off in mid-sentence, then immediately dialed the two hired killers. * * * "So . . . you've lost her!" he bellowed, as one of the men he'd hired to follow Elizabeth, and kill her, answered the telephone. "Never mind how I found out about how inept you both are. I know, and that's the only thing that matters! So . . . it's up to me to pull your sorry butts out of the fire . . . again." He listened for a moment, as the man began to protest. "I don't want to talk about it! You both are inept, lazy asses, but it appears to be my lot in life to assist . . . people . . . such as yourselves, get out of trouble. "Shut up! I'm talking! As much as I hate it, I'm going to help you out, so cut the 'we-haven't-done-anything-wrong' crap! I'm giving you one last chance to catch the woman . . . and KILL her. Do you understand me? ONE last chance! No more fooling around." Gustav Winton smiled, loving the feeling of having a tough man in his control. 'These men are insects, nothing more. Disposable. Once they're finished taking care of dear ol' Liz, little do they expect they're going to have to deal with me!' "I'm arranging for Elizabeth to start driving another vehicle," he told the man, who he imagined to be sulking. "She'll be picking up the car from one of the hotels in that armpit of a town. I'll let you know which one, the instant arrangements have been made. Then, it's up to you. Do you think you can handle a simple assignment like this, or should I come out there and hold your hand while you pull the fuckin' trigger? Do you guys have to hold one another's dick every time you take a piss, just to make sure you hit your target? Well?" he roared. "Oh, stop sputtering! "The target is heading to someplace called Riverton, searching for her sons. It's up to you both to figure out where that place is, follow her, apprehend her, and kill her. Do you think you can do something so simple?" "I said, shut up! I don't want to hear your mewling! When I give an order, I expect it to be carried out without any complaining. I don't care if you're in a friggin' traffic jam. You will do as I say, or believe me, Mister, there'll be hell to pay. Be ready for my call," he howled, then angrily punched the end-call button on the phone. "Insects!" he sneered. * * * Owen stood at one of the apartment windows overlooking Riverton's main street. 'It's the town's only street,' he mused. 'The town's size is one of the reasons I love the place so much. Still . . . sometimes, it can be too quiet. When Riley, Bailey, and Nathan were here, there seemed to always be someone to visit with. Now, since they've gone, I sometimes feel like all I do is study, and tend to the library. 'I don't see the guys nearly enough,' he thought, as he stood at one of the windows in the living room, looking out onto Riverton's main street, while the soft yellow light of the afternoon sun caressed his bare shoulders and chest. 'I miss Lucas so much. He seems to always be meeting with folks about the greenhouses or grocery store, and when he's not working he's exhausted. I wonder if he realized, when he started all his business ventures, that he'd spend so much time away from home. He wants to handle everything personally, and that's taking its toll on him. 'Sam works just as hard, splitting his time between setting up business meetings for Lucas and going to classes, over at the junior college, in Evanston. At least he's able to spend more time at home than Lucas. 'Things don't feel . . . right . . . though, when the three of us aren't together.' He smiled. 'It's funny. When Sam and I are together, we're always talking about Lucas, and when Lucas and I are together, we're talking about Sammy. 'I can't call either one of them. No telling what I'd interrupt. I have to let them know I'm missing them, though,' he said, to himself, as he reached for his phone and typed in a text message, sending it to each of their phones. 'Thinking of you and wishing you were here. Love O.' He pressed the send button, a smile playing over his lips. 'I've got to talk to someone,' he thought. 'I wonder if Bailey's available.' He dialed Bailey's number. "Bailey, hi, it's Owen!" he said, when Bailey answered before the second ring. 'Yeah, everything's fine. The guys are away and I'm rattling around in the apartment. I'm tired of studying. It's late, so the library's closed . . . so I thought I'd bug you." He sighed, tracing a shape with his finger on the apartment window. "No . . . things are going okay . . . really. Lots'a the time, the guys are away, or busy, and I'm sort'a lonely. Feeling sorry for myself," he sighed. He thought a moment, then decided to press ahead. "I had a sort'a scary thing happen the other night. I fell out of bed, having one of those nightmares of mine, and hit my head. That wasn't the scary part though . . ." Owen paused, surprised at Bailey's squawk. When he spoke again, it was in a small voice. "Well . . . yeah. I've been having 'em since I came back to Riverton. I . . . I thought you knew about 'em. I mean, I feel as if I'm talkin' about 'em so often, people are gonna think I'm some sort of broken recording, or something. "No, I wasn't tryin' to keep 'em secret from you. If I was, why would I be telling you about 'em now? "Well . . . the other night, I had a bad one, I guess, and hit my head as I fell out of bed. Geez, Bailey, when I came to I was surrounded, and there I was, naked as a jaybird, with Mama in the room! Sam and Lucas were naked, too, but they didn't care 'bout bein' nekkid. After all, they weren't flashing their mother! "What do you mean, there was no reason to be embarrassed? I mean, my mother! "Okay, I'll get to the point. Well, while I was knocked out, I sort'a visited with my father." Owen pushed himself away from the window. "Cripes! It was scary. I didn't see him, or anything. I was in this sort'a white, cloudy place, and Pops's voice was coming from everywhere. He wasn't talking like Pops, though. There wasn't any name calling, or stuff. He sounded . . . nice . . . like a guy I wish I'd known. Still . . . it was Pops' voice, and just because of that, I was afraid of what he'd do. Sometimes, when he was livin', he'd talk real nice, then punch me in the stomach, or something." Owen took a deep breath, as he crossed the apartment. He sat down, and immediately stood, wishing his friend was with him instead of a couple thousand miles away. "Bailey, I'm afraid of Pops! He wasn't always like he was, when I knew him. He couldn't have been, or Mama wouldn't have married him. Well, I worry a lot about what made him like he was. What changed him into the monster I knew? I've wanted t'ask Mama, but . . . I can't bring myself to. That pain is still too real, for both of us. "I keep looking for something in my life which might make me start acting like him, treating other folks bad like he did. I'm scared t'death I might end up like him!" Owen said, with a plaintive cry, which sounded like it came directly from his soul. He took a couple deep breaths and tried to ease his shaking. After another shuddering breath, he was able to continue. "Yeah, you're right. Lucas and Sammy agree with you. Both of 'em told me how unlikely they think it is that I'll become like him . . . . Still, when I'm alone, and things are quiet, that's 'bout all I can think of. Mostly, that's when I hear the Pops that I knew, talkin' t'me, telling me I'm a failure, and how much he hates me." Owen did his best to regain control of his breathing and still his racing heart. "Maybe being afraid of him is why I'm talking all the time, y'think? Just so I won't have t'hear him?" Owen inhaled deeply, blowing out his breath in a slow stream, as he raked his fingers through his short hair. "No . . . Pops didn't yell at me, or anything, during our . . . visit. Like I said, he was nice. Bailey . . . he told me he loves me, that he's proud of me, and happy 'bout my relationship with Lucas and Sammy! What am I supposed to think? He told me he was . . . sorry, for the stuff he did, and it sounded like he meant it! I mean, is something like talking to him even possible? I'd never have thought so, yet it seemed so real! "I mean . . . hell, I went most'a my life trying not to think of that man and the pain he caused me! I figured when he was dead and gone that I'd be rid of him, but I'm not! In fact, he's 'bout all I think about. He's everywhere! I hear him all the time. I feel his breath on my neck, as if he was standing close-by, yet, when I turn around, there's no one around. Then, I begin wondering if this is how it started for him. "When he died, there in the Evanston courthouse, he was screaming at something," Owen said, in a voice haunted by what he'd witnessed. "I wonder if, someday, I'll be the one doing the screaming in fear, only instead of whatever he was afraid of, my demon will be Pops. "Oh yeah," Owen said. "Just hearing your voice is causing me t'feel better than a little while ago. I'm sorry if I've freaked you, it's just that I get all wrapped up in the past, sometimes. Like I said, with the guys away, it's real quiet here, and, feelin' 'bout . . . things . . . the way I do, quiet isn't good. "I went over to Maxine's store t'day, to apologize to her for being sort'a rude to her the other day. I stayed calm, but geez, Bailey, the woman's so much like Pops, it's scary. She hates me. I mean, really hates me! She was yelling and carryin' on, saying lots'a the same things Pops did, when he was angry, 'bout me being a failure and a disappointment, n'all. I didn't let her see how much I was rattled, but . . ." he shook his head, in helplessness. "I'm afraid t'go to sleep t'night. It's after stuff like that happening t'me that I sort'a tend t'have those nightmares, n'stuff. Still, I've got'a sleep sometime! Imagine being afraid to sleep! "I came home from Maxine's and did a real strenuous workout, but that didn't help. I don't want to bother Lucas or Sammy in case they're in a meeting, or something; so, I thought I'd call you. I don't know when any of the guys are gonna be back, and I needed to hear a friendly voice. Plus, I hadn't talked t'you in a while. "Yeah, Mama's okay. She's real anxious to have the twins and stop being pregnant. Daniel's excited about becoming a dad. "Like I said, I'm really missin' you guys, and I keep asking myself when Riley and Nathan's mother will show up and cause the town to go into an uproar. I don't know why I think that, but I do." "I miss you, Bailey. The other guys, too, of course, but you, most of all." Owen tenderly smiled. "Yeah, same to you. Well, I've run out of news, and have descended into the maudlin, so, it's prob'ly time for me to let you go. Say hi to the guys for me, will 'ya?" He smiled again. "Thanks Bailey . . . I know you do. I feel the same 'bout you. Well, before I start bawling, I'd better go." * * * "Trouble?" Ernst Hirsch, Bailey's bodyguard asked, when Bailey ended the conversation. "No . . . I guess not. At least, not the sort of trouble the guys here are facing. It's just, a friend of mine is hurting, and I wish I was with him to help . . . I don't know what I could do, but just being with him would, at least, make me feel better. He's the reason I'm alive today. He helped me, yet I'm stuck here, and am unable to do anything to help him." "Has he no family, no brothers or sisters to help him?" the guard asked. He was accustomed to seeing the three Pruitt brothers upset. This was the first time he'd seen Mister Wilkins bothered by something. "Yes, yes he does. I was thinking maybe I shouldn't interfere, but aren't helping and interfering different names for the same thing?" Bailey flung himself away from the kitchen counter, on which he'd been leaning, walked to the windows and the expansive view of Atlanta, and quickly punched in a telephone number. "Corey! Hi, it's me, Bailey." He laughed. "No, all of us are still in protective custody, but . . . listen . . . I just had a . . . disturbing . . . conversation with Owen. He was talking about nightmares, falling out of bed, visiting with his dead father, and, worst of all, how much he fears whatever happened to that man is going to happen to him. He believes it's just a matter of time. "He's frightened me, Corey. I'm afraid for his welfare. He told me he feels that vile man's presence, telling him what a failure he is. All sorts of stuff, which, in his troubled state of mind, makes him wonder if he's beginning to experience whatever it is that drove his father insane." "WHAT? You knew about this?" Bailey asked, his voice rising. "Well, pray tell, who is doing something to help the poor man?" Bailey angrily crossed the room as he spoke. "No, Corey, I won't ease-up! I'm deeply concerned about Owen's welfare! "Corey, you know how much he helped me; yet, here I am, a virtual prisoner, unable to help him! He believes Elizabeth is on her way . . . umm . . . there . . . in hopes of finding Riley and Nathan. Owen's afraid of what she'll do when she rides into town, intent on . . . killing her sons. "I told you about Riley and Nathan learning they have a half-brother, haven't I? No?" Bailey swung back, massaging his forehead with one hand, as he held the phone to his ear with the other. "Well, they do. His name's Micah . . . a real sweetheart. What? No, Micah's his name. That real sweetheart comment was my opinion of him, not part of his name. You're teasing me, aren't you? Well, I'm not very good about being teased, right now. Micah's locked up here, with the rest of us. That woman tried to kill him by burning down his house! She was hoping he'd be in it! "I swear! All of us sane persons are locked up, and the one lacking in any socially redeeming qualities, whatsoever, is out roaming the countryside, intent on killing anyone who happens to cross her path! "Oh . . . you're right. I called about Owen. Well . . . do something, Corey! You and Jonah go over to the apartment and hold him, or something! He told me Lucas and Sam aren't going to be back in town tonight, and he's afraid to sleep because he's just had some sort of bad experience with that Maxine woman. He's afraid if he goes to sleep, he'll have some more nightmares! "Corey, the man's life is a mess! He's holding himself together by sheer strength of will! Would you and Jonah help both him and me out, by spending some time with him? Hold him. Stay with him tonight, just in case he's right . . . about those nightmares. Damn! I feel so helpless! "Riley's really anxious to head back there, as he says, to regain some of his sanity in a quiet place, where no one's had to face deranged parents! Obviously, he's forgotten about Owen's father." Bailey snorted. "Imagine! Riley wants to be there to help him clear his mind, and Owen already is there, and his mind is anything but clear." * * * "What's going on?" Jonah asked, from across the dinner table, at Sally's Restaurant. "I heard you mention Bailey's name. Was that him?" Corey heaved a deep breath, lowering his voice to prevent anyone at nearby tables learning of what was troubling Bailey. "Yeah, he spoke with Owen today. I guess it was the first time he'd heard about the nightmares. Well, he wants us to stay with him tonight." Corey massaged his forehead as Jonah glanced over his shoulder, toward the apartments, his eyes widening with worry. "Apparently, he had some sort of run-in with Maxine, today, and is afraid to go to sleep for fear of having some more nightmares. "I swear, Jonah! That Maxine woman gets back into town and sets about causing all sorts of mischief! Hell, she's been busier than a funeral home's fan in July!" * * * 'Well . . .' Owen sighed softly, as he ended the telephone call and set the phone down, leaning back on the sofa in an unconvincing simulation of ease. 'All that conversation did was make Bailey feel rotten! 'What am I gonna do with myself tonight?' He glanced toward his laptop, and the school lessons it contained, then shook his head. 'Nope, not that.' He pushed himself to his feet and wandered around the apartment, then started some soft music playing on the stereo, and flopped back on the enormous cushioned ottoman, toying with the nap of the rug with his toes. 'So . . . Riley and Nathan have an unexpected brother. Bailey calls him, squeezable, and . . . overall, probably more sexy than either Riley or Nathan.' Owen smiled, shaking his head as he linked fingers behind his head and closed his eyes, the soft music soothing him, as the conversation with his friend had failed to do. 'It'd be hard for someone to top either Riley or Nathan in the sexiness department. This guy must be something!' Owen's grin grew. 'Of course, no matter how sexy the guy is, Jonah's sexier. Same with Sammy.' He thought a moment. 'Lucas is right up there, too. So's Corey. Well, who does that leave? 'Riley, Bailey, and . . . of course, Nathan.' Owen absently teased one of his nipples to firmness. 'That boy just reeks of testosterone! Get near him and a guy wants to get nekkid and roll around on the floor with him, doin' lots'a spit swapping. Geez,' he thought, imagining himself kissing Nathan. 'I love kissing a guy, experiencing his strength as we hold one another. 'But . . .' he frowned. 'No matter how much a guy reeks of testosterone, or how much I love hanging out naked, or hugging and kissing him, the only guys I'll have real sex with are Jonah, Sammy, and Lucas.' He frowned, momentarily, then smiled, as he cupped his groin and squeezed. 'I can imagine, though, can't I? 'That night, when the guys first showed up, in town, and we all ended up naked, sprawled on the floor as we jacked off, was sooo exciting. . . . Geez, I thought I was an exhibitionist . . . well, I am, except when Mama's around. I'm nothing compared with Nathan, though! It was hard to believe that was the first time he let himself get sort'a wild. Even Riley seemed surprised when his brother shot a load all over his own chest. That was hot! I know all of us wanted to give the guy a tongue bath, just so we could slurp it up.' Owen smiled, as he recalled how he quickly scooped up some of Nathan's still-warm sperm and used it as lube to finish himself, while the other guys moved to kneel at Nathan's side and began working their own erections. Owen stuck his hand down the front of his shorts and cupped his nuts. His cock responded to the touch, as well as to the memory, of how good it had been using the handsome man's slippery sperm as a lube. He recalled slowly bringing himself close to release, then stopping, teasing himself, before resuming his stimulation. When he was unable to wait any longer, he quickly licked the remnants of Nathan's sperm from his hand; then, with the spicy taste still on his tongue, exploded across the younger man's body. He could still see Nathan watching, with wide eyes, first him, then the other guys, as their white-hot semen splashed onto his chest and belly. 'When we all began licking him clean, slurping up one another's juice, he got another erection and gave us guys another load to lick up.' Owen sat up and quickly stripped out of his T-shirt, then stood and slipped his shorts over his hips. His underwear joined the shorts, as he kicked them aside, and lay on the huge piece of leather furniture, recalling how similar this . . . thing he was lying on . . . was to the daybed in Jonah's office. 'Well,' he thought, as he gently ran a single fingertip up and down the underside of his erection. 'At least, this one is larger than Jonah's. It's nice that something of mine is . . . larger, than his.' He looked up, at a hesitant knock, to see his brother and Corey standing at the apartment door. "May we join you?" Corey asked, wondering if perhaps he should allow the two brothers to spend the evening together. 'I've only done something with Owen, when we were with the other guys,' he thought, as Owen gracefully stood, his erection extending from his dark blond pubes. 'We've never fucked, or anything, though. For him, that's reserved for Sam, Lucas, and Jonah.' "Let me undress you both," Owen said. He leaned close and kissed Jonah as Corey watched. Then, surprising both visitors, Owen ran appreciative hands over Corey's Polo shirt, teasing his nipples. "We need to stop being afraid to touch one another," he said, in a low voice, pressing his open palms against Corey's pecs. Then, leaning forward, he slowly met Corey's open mouth for a long, slow kiss. "Holy fuck, that's hot!" Jonah murmured, as he watched the two men's tongues battle with one another's, in a kiss which left both men breathless. Owen quickly slipped off Corey's shirt, then leaned forward again, gently nibbling on the dark-haired man's nipples, before turning his attention to Jonah. He tossed his brother's T-shirt aside. When he nuzzled an armpit, Jonah knew what to do. He raised his arm and Owen began licking the dark hair, as he simultaneously, firmly groped Corey's erection through his jeans. 'I've wanted to get closer to Owen, for so long,' Corey thought to himself, as he ran his fingers through Owen's short blond hair. 'I always figured he'd never even consider being intimate with anyone other than Lucas, Sam, or Jonah. That kiss he just gave me, though, was not a let's-just-be-friends kiss! Hell, I haven't been kissed like that since Cousin Sara-Jane tried to snake her tongue down my throat, back in elementary school. Geez, I'm glad she moved away! She was hopin' I'd want t'claim the title of the youngest father in West Virginia, with her being the youngest mother, of course. Hell, what was I, nine or ten years old? I hardly knew what was happening. Goes to show 'ya what sort of experience she'd already had.' His mind was drawn back to the present when Jonah pulled him close for a deep kiss, while, at the same time, Owen began tugging his tight jeans down his legs. "Suck 'im, Owen," Jonah murmured, before his lover's underwear had even been removed. "I wanna see you suck his fat dick." He rubbed his own erection over his lover's underwear, then watched as his brother groaned while he sucked on the pre-cum stain. 'He's not sure about what he's gotten himself into,' Jonah thought, reading his brother's hesitation, like the expert he was. 'He wants to get . . . closer . . . to Corey, but doesn't want to fuck or get fucked by him. He can't figure out a way to say that, though.' As Owen lowered Corey's pinstriped underwear, Jonah nuzzled close to his lover's ear. "No fucking Owen, Cor," he murmured, barely loud enough to be heard. "Hmm?" Corey made a low sound of acknowledgement, which could just as easily have been a groan, and nodded once. Any further communication, though, was cut short, when Owen licked the fat head of Corey's erection, toying with the piss slit for a moment, before opening wide and swallowing a good deal of what Jonah called, the fat erection. "Geez," Jonah said, in amazement, as he watched his brother expertly stimulate Corey's cock. 'He's doing a better job of that than I can, that's f'sure.' "Got'a lie down," Corey managed, in a rough voice. When Owen released his cock, all he could do was say, "Whew! Where'd you learn to suck dick like that?" Without waiting for an answer, he helped Owen to his feet; then, holding both sides of the blond man's head, mashed his lips against Owen's, in a kiss which left no doubt of either man's excitement. While they kissed, Jonah knelt and sucked, first Corey, then Owen, kneading the muscular men's ass cheeks as he did so, doing his best to ignore the fantasy of having his partner and brother, kneeling side-by-side, offering him their holes to fuck. Finally, Corey could take it no longer. He sank to his knees, then lay on his back with his knees slightly bent, his feet resting on the floor. He looked up at the two men standing above him and extended his arms. 'C'mon, guys; lookin' at you guys' erections, from down here, makes me wanna suck on 'em. Get down here!" Owen knelt, leaning over Corey, giving him a deep kiss, then straddled the lying man's head, on hands and knees, dangling his bouncing erection and smooth nut sac only inches from Corey's waiting mouth, and extended tongue. "Ahhhh geez," Owen hissed, as he rocked his hips, causing his penis to slide over Corey's tongue, and hit the back of his throat. A moment later, Jonah grabbed his brother's head and mashed his open mouth against Owen's, madly sucking on the gasping man's tongue. Owen pulled away, threw his head back, and groaned with pleasure, not realizing his brother had moved and was now kneeling behind him. Jonah smacked the bare skin of one of Owen's ass cheeks, causing his brother to jump. Before he could complain, though, Jonah spread the muscular, creamy white, ass cheeks and buried his tongue in Owen's hole. "Damn, but I'm close," Owen moaned, as he heaved a breath and reluctantly pulled free of Corey's mouth. "Change places with me," he told his brother. "You guys can suck on one another, while I lick some hole." He moved off Corey, as Jonah took his position, eagerly sinking his cock into his partner's waiting mouth. Corey choked, then managed to handle the invader. From where he was lying, Corey could see Owen eagerly lapping at his brother's smooth hole. The sight, plus Jonah's expert attention to his cock, was threatening to stimulate him to the point of explosion. When a drop of Owen's sweat hit his forehead, it was as if a sensuous electric shock had coursed through his body. He released Jonah's cock. "Damn, but I'd like to watch you to fuck each other. I've fantasized about licking your juice as it oozes out of Jonah's hole; then, when Jonah finishes filling your butthole, Owen, doing the same with your jiz. I fuckin' love secondhand sperm. Will you guys do it for me? "I'm not asking t'do it to you guys, or have you do it t'me," he added. Jonah took Owen's silence for approval. He released Corey's cock from his mouth, then reached behind himself and slapped his own ass cheek, leaving behind a red hand print. "Push it into me, Owen! Gimme everything you've got. Give Cor plenty of your juice, so he gets a good taste." He slapped himself again and returned his attention to Corey's erection. "Ohhhh, yeah," Owen sighed, as he pushed the head of his cock against his brother's sphincter, immensely turned on, both by having sex with his brother, but also by having Corey watch. 'I know I'm not gonna last too long,' he thought, as Corey shifted position and pushed himself upward, so he could lick Owen's hairless scrotum, and watch, up close, as Owen's cock stretched Jonah's sphincter. "Holy fuck!" he sighed, as he watched the muscular ring of Jonah's hole relaxed, allowing Owen to push inside. Owen didn't push the head in and wait, as Corey expected. Instead, he slowly slid into his brother until his thick pubes were pressed against the skin of Jonah's ass. Only then did he pause, and give Corey a chance to suck on his ball sac. 'Lucas does the same thing t'me, when I'm fucking Sammy,' Owen thought, as one of his testicles slipped free of Corey's warm mouth. 'Corey couldn't know, but . . . damn . . . I love having my nuts sucked, almost as much as I love feeling someone's sphincter squeezing my dick.' Jonah stopped sucking, concentrating on how good it felt to simultaneously have Corey lick, and suck on, his scrotum, and have the person he loved more than anyone in the world, slowly thrusting into his asshole. 'Owen's always going on about not being hung as big as me,' he thought. 'But when he's fucking you, it feels plenty big t'me, and, damn, he sure knows how to use it!' After only a few minutes, Owen groaned loudly. He rammed his cock into his brother's hole, one last time, then pulled part-way out, so Corey could watch it pulse, as he emptied his nuts into Jonah. He'd barely had a chance to catch his breath and shake the perspiration out of his eyes, than Jonah pulled away, freeing himself. He scrambled to kneel behind his brother, then paused, to tenderly caress his brother's bare ass cheeks, thinking of how many times he'd smeared some healing salve over them. 'They were never white . . . like this . . . when Owen lived at home,' Jonah thought. 'Pops never made Owen bleed. That would have been something no one could ignore. What he did do, though, was beat him so hard it was close to impossible for Owen to sit. 'He's recovered from the beatings, but he's nowhere near recovering from the mental abuse he took,' Jonah thought, feeling his throat constrict as he recalled how Owen would try and put on a brave face. 'Only when we were alone, did he allow himself to cry.' "Stop admiring the scenery," Owen laughingly grumbled, "and do what you're there to do!" "Yeah," Corey added, always loath to allow someone else to have the last word. "You heard him," Owen added, even more reluctant to give someone the last word. Jonah smiled to himself, then licked across his brother's smooth, pink butthole, preparing it for his entry. He wet the opening, before pushing one, then two fingers inside, his mouth twitching when Owen sighed with pleasure. Corey had been playing with Owen's nuts, but Jonah had a better idea. He took his partner's hand, sucked on a couple of his fingers, then touched the fingertips to Owen's sphincter and mouthed the word, 'push.' 'He won't be fucking Owen, but, at least, he can give him some pleasure by massaging his prostate.' "Oh, yeah," Owen groaned. "S'good." He pushed back on the invading fingers, fucking himself. "When am I gonna get the real thing?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. "Now, Jonah! Do it! I need you in me!" Jonah eased into his brother, amazed, as always, by how wide the small opening could stretch. Owen didn't seem to be hurting, though. He sighed, with pleasure, and when he thought Jonah wasn't being aggressive enough, pushed back, slamming against his brother's pubes. "I'm not gonna last long guys," Jonah groaned, as his thrusts speeded up. Fucking his brother was always an indescribable experience, but doing it, with Corey watching, only inches away, the experience went waaaay beyond awesome. Without warning, he exploded into his brother's hole. He thrust once, then a second time, moaning constantly, as his cock throbbed, pumping his brother full. When he pulled nearly free, ready to shove it back in, some of his semen escaped and landed on Corey's face with a wet splat. Corey reacted with a wide-eyed expression, then jerked, as he pumped his load into Owen's mouth. All three men paused to catch their breath, then Corey scooted out from beneath Owen, at the same time Jonah pulled free. "Now, it's my turn, t'taste both of the Carver boys," he said, speaking of Jonah and Owen. "On your backs," he ordered. "Show me what I've been waiting for!" The two men quickly got onto their backs, side-by-side, and drew their legs back until their knees were touching their shoulders, exposing their sloppy buttholes to Corey's eager tongue. He attacked Jonah's hole first, sucking and slurping as Owen's jiz leaked out. It was the first time he'd tasted Owen's sperm, and while he wished he was tasting it directly from the source, tasting the secondhand juice was more than he expected would ever happen. Next, he moved between Owen's legs, pausing to admire the man's full ball sac and hairless asshole, which relaxed, as he watched, allowing a thick stream of Jonah's jiz to ooze out. He quickly mashed his face against the smooth skin as Jonah got to his knees and held his brother's legs back. "Get it all, Cor," Jonah urged, as Corey loudly slurped at the tight opening. When Corey finally thought he'd gotten all of Jonah's semen, Owen lowered his legs until he was lying flat. Corey climbed over him, resting the full weight of his body on top of Owen, and kissed him deeply, then moved to Jonah, to do the same, and finally rolled off his partner with a satisfied sigh. "Thank you, guys," he said, around a yawn. "Geez, I'm exhausted." "Any time," Owen replied, sounding half asleep. "I need t'take a nap," Jonah mumbled, as the three men snuggled close. 'When Bailey asked us to spend some time with Owen, tonight,' Corey thought, as sleep claimed him, 'I bet he never thought we'd spend our time like this.' * * * Owen screamed, and tried to roll away from whatever he feared. "No!" he called, his voice rising, as he rolled into Corey, who had sat up in alarm. Jonah blinked, half-dazed, and grabbed Owen. "Let go of me!" Owen shrieked, struggling to pull free. "Do what he says!" Corey yelled. "You're only feeding into his dream!" Then, just as quickly as the terror started, it was over. Without even waking up, Owen settled back onto the carpet. He opened his eyes for a brief moment, realized whom he was with, and smiled. "Corey, where's Jonah?" he asked, as he snuggled close, holding his friend tightly with an arm over his shoulder. "Here, Owen. I'll never leave you." "Love you, Jonah," he murmured, falling asleep as Jonah wrapped a protective arm around his brother.. 'Oh geez,' Corey thought to himself, as he tried to stop his racing heart, taking some small comfort in Owen's quiet breaths on his shoulder. 'And I thought I was an emotional wreck. What must Owen be going through . . . and what about Lucas and Sam, or . . . Jonah? Owen has been wounded more deeply than even he is aware of.'
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