imagining these two perfect men as fathers, Tala collapsed against Mik’s broad chest. AJ gently lowered himself over her back.
They lay there, the three of them sandwiched together, hearts pounding, minds spinning.
Filled with possibilities.
Dreaming of a future of their own creation.
Jazzy sat on the railing out front. Late afternoon sunlight bathed this one little corner of the porch, and she’d claimed it for her own. Beth and Nick hadn’t come out of the bedroom for at least a couple of hours, and Matt was sleeping in one of the other rooms. She wasn’t sure exactly where Deacon had gone, but he’d wandered into the woods to check out the huge trees.
Logan was the only one out here, but he wasn’t exactly with her. He’d gone down to the other end of the porch where he’d commandeered a deck chair. He sat there silently, staring at the dark forest.
She might as well have been all alone, out here waiting on AJ, Mik, and Tala. From the muffled laughter and the soft scream she’d just heard from the master bedroom, there was no doubt in Jazzy’s mind what was going on behind their closed door.
She felt that same ripple of sensation, the clenching of muscles, the presence of her clit rubbing against the thick seam of her jeans. Hell, she never thought of her clit. It was just there, a part of her body that usually stayed hidden until it was time to come out and play, but for some reason, lately the damn thing wanted to play all the time.
She was so not going to be ruled by her sex drive.
Like that was an issue.
Desire’d pretty much been fucked out of her after a lifetime on the streets. So many little kids, brought into the country illegally. Sold like so much property. No rights, no home, no parents. Nothing but one man after another, all with the same thing in mind.
When she was a cute little girl, they’d wanted to dress her up and then take off those same clothes. She’d had men purchase her time who wanted her to spank them. She’d actually sort of enjoyed that, especially when she was little.
When you’re little, just about everything’s a game.
She hadn’t liked it nearly as much when they wanted to spank her. It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She did what they asked and they still wanted her over their laps with her pants down and her round little bottom in the air.
Damn, she was so screwed. No way in hell could she ever be a normal woman. Not now. Not after all that had been done to her over the years. Twenty-two years old, not a penny to her name, no real identification, no Social Security number, no idea what country she even came from.
She’d always figured her mom must have been Asian and her father black. Maybe a serviceman somewhere? She’d never know. Not that it would make any difference, but what kind of parent sold their child to a sex slaver?
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“Hey, Logan.” She snorted, but she was secretly pleased he’d come down to her end of the porch. “You wouldn’t want ’em. Not even if I paid you.” Jazzy scratched her arms.
“They might be better than what I’ve got, which is a big, fat zero. I keep thinking I should remember something, but all I get is stuff that seems to come out of TV shows.”
Jazzy frowned. “What kind of stuff?”
He actually looked embarrassed. “Some medical show. I see doctors and nurses. Sometimes an operating room.”
“That’s probably from when you were first hurt. You’re remembering the doctors and nurses taking care of you.”
He shrugged. “Yeah. That must be it.”
When he looked away, though, Jazzy knew he didn’t agree. She turned back and gazed out at the redwoods, but her arms and legs felt all twitchy. She stood up. “I’m going to take a walk. Want to go with me? Let’s see if we can find Deacon.”
“Where’d he go?”
She pointed toward a break in the forest. “He took that trail. Said he wouldn’t go far, but he’s been gone about an hour.”
“Should we tell anyone we’re leaving?”
Jazzy shrugged. “Who? Everyone else is either screwing or sleeping. Leave a note.”
Logan went inside and came back a minute later with a water bottle he stuck in his pocket. “I just left a note on the table. Told them we’re taking a short hike and trying to meet up with Deacon.”
Jazzy laughed. “I’ve seen your writing. By the time they figure out your chicken scratches, we’ll probably be back.”
Logan flashed her a dirty look. Then he grinned. “C’mon. I need some exercise.” He grabbed her hand and tugged Jazzy along behind him. She went willingly, more aware than ever of the warmth of his hand, the tingle in her palm, and the matching sensations between her legs.
“It’s weird, but I can actually tell which way Deacon went.”
Logan glanced at Jazzy. “You, too? I thought it was just me. What are you following?”
Jazzy grinned. “The scent of his shaving cream. My nose is so much more sensitive now. What about you?”
Logan hated to admit that all this crap about turning into wolves was actually true, but he couldn’t deny facts. “I smell that, too, but I can actually see his body heat. It’s a visible image, like a thin film in the air.”
Frowning, Jazzy stared at the trail ahead of them. “I see it now. I think. Sort of a wavy line about waist height?” She glanced down and laughed. “We could always just follow his footprints. Look.”
Logan looked where Jazzy pointed. Plain as day, there were big footprints in the mud. Deacon’s heavy Doc Martens had left a noticeable trail. Logan knelt down in the mud and held up one beckoning finger. “Come, kimo sabe. White man go this way.” He stood up and laughed. “He can’t be too far ahead.”
Talk about a man of many moods. Jazzy followed where Logan led. The trail got narrower, the going rougher, but still they followed Deacon’s tracks and scent trail. Suddenly, Jazzy pulled to a stop. She held her hand up and planted it firmly in Logan’s midsection. “What’s that noise?”
Cocking his head, Logan caught the soft sound just ahead. “Shit, I think that’s Deacon! Sounds like he’s hurt.”
They ran through thick ferns and an even thicker stand of pussy willows growing along the bank of a sharply cut ravine with a narrow stream at the bottom. The trail dropped precipitously.
“Logan!” Jazzy’s foot slipped off the edge.
Logan grabbed her upper arm and yanked her back. Flailing for a moment, she finally caught her balance. He pulled her close. Heart pounding, Logan wrapped her against his chest and hung on tight.
“Help! Logan? Jazzy? That you?”
“Deacon?” Logan took a deep breath. He turned Jazzy
