Chapter 8
EIGHT | CAMERON
Dirt crunches below the tires, kicking up a plume of dust behind us as I pick up speed through the orchard. The car curves around the bend where the cliff drops off—the rushing Columbia River lashing against the rocks below.
I can almost hear Dad’s deep, anal-ridden voice sternly ordering me to slow down. But the adrenaline surging to every nerve ending has my foot heavy on the gas pedal.
We emerge from the sharp turn, my black Aston Martin DBX passing between two sides of apple trees lining the road. It’s only half a mile farther until we reach the house.
I spare a quick glimpse over my shoulder.
Taryn lies on her back across the back seat with a blanket sprawled across her legs.
Her hands are folded over her chest, the same way a corpse in a casket looks before you bury it.
But unlike a corpse, her chest is rising and falling softly. The comparison almost makes me laugh.
She might not be conscious, but we aren’t dicks. We want her to be comfortable even if she isn’t awake. Dad taught us to be gentlemen, after all—although some manners have escaped us over the last five years.
“Do you think she will like the room?” Brennan asks, pulling my attention back to the dirt road as we hit the solar lights spread out on both sides, guiding us the rest of the way.
The house emerges on the hill; the porch sconces a speck in the darkness.
As we draw nearer, all the other lights in the house are off except the kitchen on the bottom floor and the tower.
Her tower soars over the rest of the four-story stone Victorian home directly on our hill in the center of a circular yard until it meets the line of apple trees on each side.
Our unique slice of heaven that she will, hopefully—eventually—come to love like we do.
I answer his question about the attic, my voice turning gravelly at the thought of her not liking it. “I hope so. Between all the hours of working, refurnishing that room, and family time, we all did our research. We know what she likes.”
He nods, looking ahead.
It takes us a few minutes to appear from the orchard, but we hit the base, inclining up the small hill. We reach the circular driveway in front of the house and pull to a stop.
Bren and I open and close our doors simultaneously.
I round the car to his side, where he already has the back seat door open.
She lays peacefully, breathing evenly through her parted lips.
A strand of hair is glued to her soft mouth—lips that are taunting the hell out of me.
I envision all the ways I could claim them; her on her knees with them wrapped around my cock, her lips on mine while at the same time I finger her tight cunt so I can swallow and devour her pants from the euphoria, her gentle tongue that I imagine tastes as sweet as that apple margarita she drank earlier.
I could cave in to my urges. I could force myself to be temperate with her so that when she woke, she would be entirely oblivious that I had brought her unconscious body pleasure. But the thought that she could willingly give herself over to me is stirring whatever patience I have left.
Before my brother has the chance to say anything, I lower my body through the door and drop down, wrestling to get an arm under her back.
I reach my other hand under her legs, scooping her up into my arms. Shifting my body to get a better hold of her dead weight, I lift her from the car and take a step back.
He grips the doorframe and arches a dark brow.
“You realize she’s here for all of us and not just you, right?
” He chuckles, slamming the door, the sound echoing through the night and harmonizing with the chirping of crickets.
“You can’t get all territorial over a girl who’s here to serve more than one purpose. You said you wouldn’t get attached.”
“Shut up, asshole,” I mutter, approaching the sidewalk. “I want her to stay.”
“We all want her to stay. More importantly, we should do whatever we can to ensure she wants to stay.” He shakes his head. “Because we are fucking screwed if she leaves and tells someone what happened.”
I exhale a frustrated breath. I know. We already have one of us behind bars. It wouldn’t look good if three Lindenvale sons landed in prison with felonies for abducting a young teacher.
Did it stop us? Absolutely not.
Maybe prisons do family blocks.
Dad told us to protect this family at all costs, and that’s precisely what we are doing. Colt may have his own twisted reasoning behind his actions, but ultimately, my brothers and I have the same objective.
It’s just eccentric and a little idiotic.
One of her arms sways back and forth as I take the steps up to the porch, and Brennan grabs it, placing it on her stomach. We reach the front door, and he walks into the foyer first. I follow, and he shuts the door behind me.
Since the lights are all mostly off, I assume Colt is in his cabin, located on the backside of the house, at the edge of the yard.
He played his part. Now we are doing ours.
Brennan draws nearer to us, swiping his fingers across her clammy cheek. He tucks the dark strand of hair behind her ear that was attached to her lips. “But that doesn’t mean we both can’t have some fun with her while she’s here.”
I mischievously grin. “Can you imagine how beautiful she would look with one coc—”
“Bren…Cam.” The delicate voice drifts through the dark foyer from the stairs on the left wall that go up to the second, third, and fourth floors.
I jolt in surprise, nearly dropping Taryn. “Fuck!” I attempt to resituate my arms to get a better grip on her.
“Language, Cam,” Brennan scolds from beside me.
We both glance up at the staircase as our baby sister stares at us with sleepy eyes and pouty little lips.
So much for everyone being asleep.
She grips her light pink nightgown in her fist, looking between us. “Is that the girl? Why is she asleep?”
Bren and I gape at each other, struggling to find an answer. How do you explain to your sibling, who can’t tie their own shoes and is just learning to spell, that we kidnapped her new nanny?
Her light brown hair, so similar to our mother’s, falls in natural waves over her shoulders. She peers at us with those vibrant blue eyes.
“You should be in bed, Elena,” Bren whispers, keeping his voice low so we don’t wake Tristan and Jessica, our other siblings.
My cursing probably already did that.
“Did Colt not say good night?” he asks.
She rubs her tired eyes and nods.
“You just couldn’t sleep?” I ask.
Her head bobs again, and my heart stutters.
I glance at Taryn, unresponsive in my arms. The heat from our bodies pressed together creates a layer of sweat that encases my skin.
Damn, I need a shower. Mostly so I can release some tension in my dick before I’m tempted to lay a finger on her.
Or in her.
I look back at Bren. “Can you take Taryn upstairs?” I gesture to Elena with my head. “I’ll get her to bed.”
He narrows his eyes. “I’m surprised you trust me to take her to bed.”
“If I find you in it with her,” I threaten, “that’s when we’ll have an issue.”
Our eyes hold steady while he approaches me and holds his arms out. I transfer her weight to Brennan, and he walks up the stairs, passing Elena. He smiles at her, but her wide eyes stay locked on an unconscious Taryn like she’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.
He says the words we say to her and Tristan every single night without fail. “I love you, Elena.”
Someday, I’ll have to explain to her why we did what we did to Taryn—why we abducted her. We will have to justify it. But at this age, she’ll never understand why we went through these immense lengths for her. She may be five, but she’s smart like Jess and as vigilant as our mother used to be.
I’ll have to defend why we bent our morals. That we did it for her and Tristan since Jessica is leaving and won’t be around to help.
But a part of me knows that we brought her here for us, too—Bren, Colt, and I.
But since my twenty-seven-year-old brother is hard-headed, Colt won’t admit it.
He wants her, too, in more ways than one.
But he’s also too tenacious to acknowledge he’s tired of those whores he has on speed dial coming in and out of his cabin nearly every night.
“Love you too, Bren,” Elena responds quietly when they disappear into the darkness.
I can tell she’s exhausted by how her attention slowly finds me again. I walk up the first few steps to her and bend down. She jumps into me, and I cradle her in my arms, her tiny limbs wrapping around my abdomen and neck.
It’s sad to think that one day, it will be the last time I’ll hold her like this, and I won’t even recognize it as the last time.
I start walking her back up the stairs and into the hallway toward her room when her nervous voice stutters, “Is—is she going to be like a mom?”
My heart skulks into my throat, and I swallow.
Tristan barely remembers Jane, our mother.
He only has minuscule glimmers of who she once was and what she looked like.
As he gets older, those memories slip further and further away, like she did.
Eventually, Mom will be nothing but a recollection of small moments that are hard to reach and hard to place.
His mind was so undeveloped and innocent when everything happened.
On the other hand, Elena never had the chance to know her. Our mother disappeared when she was a couple weeks old, leaving my father to care for all of us on his own until his arrest later that year.
But at twenty-four, fatherhood suits me well. At least, I like to think so. Bren, Colt, and I were shoved into that role overnight, taking care of this family and keeping the company afloat.