Caleb Morgan [Seven Brothers for McBride 7] (4 page)

“No.” McBride shoved Renner out of the way and got to his feet. He wavered a bit, but he hung on to his vertical position with sheer force of will, reminding Caleb of just how powerful he really was. “I’m not going to let you get hurt.”

“Like you said, he’s not here to hurt me. He wants something.”

“Maybe I was wrong.”

“Maybe you’re just blinded by your feelings for me.”

“So what if I am?” When McBride used his low and silky voice, Caleb knew he was furious. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

Obviously sensing the tension, Renner and the butler backed away, leaving McBride and Caleb in a small circle of privacy.

“Don’t do this to show me how tough you are.” McBride held the rag to his ear but reached out with his free hand to stroke down the center of Caleb’s chest.

Tingles raced over his flesh, tightening his nipples and enhancing his arousal. “How the hell can I be afraid yet so turned on I could fuck you right here?”

“Because everything between us is so raw.” McBride kept on stroking right down to Caleb’s prick. “You better not get one scratch on this beautiful body. You hear me?”

“I hear you.” Caleb moved closer until he was pressing against McBride. They were perfectly aligned. Eye to eye, heart to heart, and cock to cock. “Promise me you’ll stay here.”

Caleb saw the wheels turning in McBride’s mind. As a lawman, he was used to dealing with criminals and coming up with strategies and counterstrategies. Not being involved in what was happening on his very own land must be beyond difficult. Caleb realized what he had to do was ease him into making the best choice.

“We won’t know what to do until we know what he wants. Right?” Caleb thought if he could get McBride to see reason, he would give him permission to handle the situation.

“Right.”

“He’s coming here to talk. He’s not going to want to run back to his men with bullets flying, especially if he wants to trade that prisoner, right?”

“Right.”

“So that means I’m safe to have my brothers stationed around the upper deck, guns pointed at him. He’ll know this because they have laser sights. He’ll tell me what he wants. I’ll do my best to either cut a deal or get him to go. I need you to trust me to do that.” And there it was. That was the big question. Could McBride trust Caleb to have the whole farm’s best interests at heart?

“I do trust you.” McBride kissed him then let him go.

Caleb turned to the butler and gave him instructions. Before he could get distracted by kissing McBride one last time, he exited the parlor. The dining room was stuffed with weapons, ammunition, tools, and various possessions. If the worst of it came, they were ready.

After drawing a deep breath, Caleb stepped out of the big house then onto the porch. The night was cooling off, and insects were filling the air with chirps, whirrs, and clicks. Usually, he found their music calming, but tonight nothing was going to ease off his adrenaline surge. He was able to see the leader of the slammers now, but he still couldn’t see much about the man he was dragging along with him.

From the doorway, Caleb heard the butler whisper, “Your brothers are ready, sir.”

Caleb nodded. He suddenly realized he was wearing clinging black pants and nothing else. Worse, he was hard as hell from his interlude with McBride. What had gotten him so turned on that even the threat of death couldn’t touch it was the idea of riding McBride’s cock while he watched his buttocks bounce on his hips.
Fuck
. That image filled his head and wouldn’t let go. Somehow, it was even more arousing than his favorite masturbatory fantasy of McBride tossing him in the stocks and fucking him all day and all night until he finally collapsed in a sweaty, satisfied heap. Caleb would be left unsatisfied in the stocks until McBride took pity on him and eased his needs with a luscious combination of his hands and mouth.

“Damn.” Caleb didn’t have to have a lot of light to realize he’d leaked pre-cum on his pants. They were black and it was dark, so the slammer probably wouldn’t notice. Probably. But maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he did. Striding out with an erection showed fearlessness without saying a word.

Anticipation pushed him from the porch to the circular drive. He shook his hair over his shoulders and strode in easy, ground-eating strides right toward the slammer and his covered prisoner.

“I don’t have any weapons.” The slammer halted his prisoner then did a slow turn so Caleb could see him. He was tall and bulky, possessing the muscular body that most slammers did, but he wasn’t nearly as big as Caleb himself. In the prison where he’d grown up, he’d always been the most massive man there. For some reason that he’d never understood, it had gained him instant respect.

“I don’t, either.” Caleb lifted his arms but didn’t turn around. He snapped his fingers, and four red dots danced over the slammer’s chest. “But my brothers do.”

The slammer looked down, gulped, and kept his hands up. “I’m here to talk.”

“Go ahead.”

“Have them lower their weapons.”

“Nope.” Caleb didn’t say anything else. He stood there, hands relaxed and easy at his sides, waiting.

“My name is Gage, and—”

“I’m not out here to make your acquaintance. I’m out here to find out why you’ve come back onto my land a second time.” Technically, the
tallos
farm wasn’t Caleb’s land, but he felt he could take all the liberties he wanted. It was obvious Gage thought he was in charge and Caleb had no intention of disabusing him of that notion.

“We want your help.”

“My help?” Caleb considered what in the world he could do for a group of men he didn’t give two shits about.

“We want you to lead us.”

Caleb couldn’t imagine the man saying anything more surprising.

“We brought you this as a gift.” Without making any sudden moves, the slammer turned and removed the cape of the bound man. A beautiful blond thrall stood there, his head down, his body trembling. “Look up.” Gage grabbed his chin, forcing his face up, displaying his stunning yet tormented face. “We call him Angel.”

All Caleb could do was nod. He did indeed look like an angel with his gleaming blond hair, big beautiful eyes, and perfectly proportioned body. Most thralls were so skinny they looked in danger of being crushed by one lusty hug. This one was surprisingly muscular despite his smaller frame. In many ways, he looked like a slammer who had been shrunk down by a foot or so.

“Here.” The slammer dropped the end of the leash and pushed Angel toward Caleb.

Angel took a step in his direction, but then he seemed to really see Caleb. His eyes went wide. He shook his head and spun on his heel. He would have run if not for Gage stomping on the end of the leash. When the slack was ended, Angel was yanked off his feet. He landed on the road, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. The slammer approached him, drawing his foot back as if to kick the thrall with all his might.

“You give him to me then proceed to damage him?” Caleb’s instinct was to protect the thrall, but doing so would reveal his kind heart, so he held his place and made Gage continue in his efforts to curry his favor.

Staying his blow, the slammer helped Angel to his feet. Using the cape, he dusted him off and cautioned the thrall not to cause any more trouble.

Caleb offered out his hand. “Come to me, little one. I won’t hurt you.”

Tears filled the thrall’s eyes. It was clear from the way he was splitting his darting glances between Caleb and the group of men far down the long drive he was considering which way would give him less pain. It didn’t take him long to realize one man was far better odds than an entire group of them. In the end, he reached out and took Caleb’s hand.

And now Caleb had another problem he simply didn’t need.

McBride watched as Caleb accepted the gift of the beautiful thrall. His heart was beating so hard he was surprised Renner couldn’t hear it.

“What did he say?” Renner was right next to McBride as they peered out the small and oddly placed window closest to where Caleb spoke with the slammer. Since they had no choice, they were huddled together in what must have been a bathroom at one time, but was now filled with random items from the parlor.

“Shh. I can’t hear.” Frustrated that he could barely see and worse hardly hear, McBride had called in the butler so he could use his super hearing, but by the time he did they’d missed half of the exchange. All McBride knew was that the thrall’s name was Angel and he was a gift to Caleb. Judging by the bulge in Caleb’s pants, he wasn’t disappointed with his present. Then again, he might be packing that from what had happened between them before he’d stepped outside. McBride wasn’t too sure when Caleb had yet to confess what was going on in his head or heart.

“He offered him a leadership role, sir.”

“What?” McBride was so surprised his heart started beating hard enough to make his ear throb even more than it already was. “Tell me exactly what he’s saying.”

The butler strained to hear but caught only snippets. As the butler did his best to relay the conversation, McBride’s grip on the windowsill intensified until he heard a sharp crack. He let go and hoped the two men out on the road hadn’t heard. When they kept right on talking, he figured if they heard the breaking wood, they took it as a normal night sound. The leader of the slammers, Gage, wanted Caleb to lead them. He had given Caleb the thrall to gain his favor.

“Any man who can keep a gentryman like a pet impresses me.” The butler looked at McBride. “Sorry, sir, but that’s what Gage said.”

McBride did a slow burn. He was most definitely not Caleb’s pet. When the butler was unable to make out Caleb’s response, McBride had to forcibly restrain himself from crushing something—anything—in his fist. Part of him understood that Caleb was simply playing a role, but another part couldn’t stand the idea of anyone—even a man he didn’t know or care about—thinking less of him. Knowing that his irritation was hardwired into his very genetic code did nothing to make the sting of shame any less painful.

As the conversation went on, McBride was riveted to Caleb. He watched with a sense of concern and surprise the way he held on to the thrall’s hand while he talked with the leader of the slammers. When Caleb seemed to be inspecting the thrall, McBride had to forcefully draw slow, even breaths to keep his anger in check. Caleb’s big fingers traced over the thrall’s collar, as if checking for bites, and then he turned the poor man around, sliding his finger down—

“What is he
doing
?” Renner’s question was gasped between his fingers since he was so shocked he’d covered his mouth with his hand.

“He’s testing his factory seal.” McBride felt as if he had a zoom function with his eyes as he was able to focus only on Caleb’s thick finger pressing against the secret spot of the beautiful thrall. He couldn’t actually see his digit making contact, but he saw it vividly in his mind. As if he was right there, he saw Caleb’s rough finger against that tight opening. McBride himself had used the blow test when he’d bought his thralls, but he knew some men used an educated finger to test for firmness. That Caleb not only used the gesture but did so with such ease and familiarity annoyed McBride more than he thought possible. Something about him knowing that was irritating, and he wasn’t sure why.

When Caleb was done fingering the thrall, he turned him slowly around.

“It’s like he’s going to buy him.” Renner shook his head.

“Maybe he is.” McBride didn’t mean
buy
in the literal sense of the word but more that Caleb might buy into the whole “be our leader” idea. Although, considering Caleb in relation to the other slammer, he was massive. Moreover, he looked and acted like a leader. If nothing else, Caleb exuded confidence. It was one aspect of him that had the shocking ability to simultaneously intrigue and infuriate McBride.

“Why do you think—” Renner abruptly stopped talking when he got a look at McBride’s face.

McBride didn’t have to have a mirror to know that he looked as pissed as he felt. Was Caleb fondling the thrall as part of his role or to grind it in McBride’s face? Or possibly both? After coming clean about everything at the dining room table, McBride had thought they were over this deliberate taunting of one another, but maybe not. Caleb had been hurt beyond words when McBride made such a show over Quintus. This could be his revenge. Or maybe he’d hurt Caleb so deeply he simply couldn’t forgive and forget. Caleb hadn’t said he wanted to be with McBride. Sure, he’d kissed him to distract him from his ear, but he hadn’t been willing to seal the wound with his mouth.

Into his mind, fully formed and unbidden, came the moment in the shower when McBride had flicked his tongue against Caleb’s canine, cutting the tender flesh and giving his blood to his prospective mate. As soon as his blood touched Caleb’s tongue, he’d pulled away and spit it out. He’d even swished around a mouthful of water for good measure. If that didn’t speak volumes without saying a word…

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t hear anything with the wind.”

“I guess we’re going to have to wait until our fearless leader comes back.” In his effort to keep the snark out of his voice, McBride had managed to make it three times as snotty as he originally intended.