Tangled Hearts: A Menage Collection

by Various

  Rennick nodded, a small grin playing at the corners of his lips.

  Camden looked at him directly. Shot in the ass meant one of two things. “Was he retreating at the time?”

  Rennick shook his head and grinned.

  “Oh fuck. You didn’t?” Camden chuckled, amusement replacing his anger. “That is perfect! Served him right.”

  Rennick had shot their mate’s ex-husband in the ass, years before any of them had ever met.

  That was just poetic justice.

  * * *

  Wynter groaned as consciousness flooded through her in a flash, kicking her in the back of the head for good measure. The antiseptic smell told her that she’d wound up in the med-bay again. No surprise there…except she couldn’t remember going back into battle after the bug attack and defense of the lower-ship corridors.

  Lying back against the pillows, she didn’t open her eyes right away. Instead she tried to sort through her memories. What had happened? She didn’t feel the burning, muscle-deep pain that indicated she’d been shot…nor the hit-by-a-starship, all-over body ache that could signal she’d been caught in an explosion. Again. What was that? Four times now? One day Lady Luck was not going to be on her side.

  “And you’re sure she’s okay? They’ve not…”

  The deep, male voice answered all her questions and brought the little scene in the empty barracks slamming back into her memory.

  “I beg your pardon, Admiral?”

  Wynter’s eyes snapped open and focused on the small group at the bottom of her bed. Along with the tall, white-haired form of her father, in full uniform of course, with all the braids and ceremonial bullshit it came with, was a small group of nervous-looking doctors.

  “What he means is, did the dogs who fucked his daughter manage to get her pregnant?”

  Several of the doctors jumped at her caustic comment, turning to her as she sat up. Fuck, her head hurt like a bitch. She lifted a hand but couldn’t find a knot at the back of her skull. Her fingers came away clear of blood. Memory fed her more detail, and she grimaced. Bastards had stunned her.

  She looked up to meet her father’s eyes, green, like hers. The lines around them had deepened in the years since she’d seen him. He actually looked concerned, not that she believed that for a second. Her father played with emotions like others played chess. Ruthlessly.

  “Isn’t it, Daddy?”

  She didn’t bother with his rank even though technically he was her superior officer. He might hold a higher position than she did, but any and all respect for him had disappeared when she’d found out that he’d maneuvered her into marrying Ferris, promising her ex-husband promotion and privilege if he could control her.

  Wankers. Both of them.

  “No…not at all. Wynter, there’s no need to be crude.”

  Her father blustered, a tide of red washing up his neck as it always did when she swore. It was anger, though, not mortification. He’d always been a controlling bastard, which was why her mother had been planning to leave him. Only the fact that she’d been killed in a flitter crash on the way back from a shopping trip had stopped her.

  “There’s every reason.” She pushed off from the bed and dropped to her bare feet. The cold floor made her toes want to curl up, but she ignored the feeling. At least she’d been dressed when the goon squad arrived to subdue them, even if the standard-issue tank top and shorts did nothing for her in the style stakes.

  She shot the senior doctor a hard look, voice just shy of a demand. “Am I good to go?”

  The guy managed a slow nod, his gaze trying to slide sideways to her father for approval. Wynter sighed.

  “Eyes on me, Doctor Calahan. I’m the patient here. Admiral Daniels is not listed as my next of kin, and I think you’ll find, if you bother to read my records, that he is not authorized to access my medical information. So if you’ve divulged anything to him, you’re in contempt of a court order.”

  That little nugget of information dropped into the room like a lead balloon. At least three of the doctors looked like their eyes were going to bug out of their heads, and her father sighed.

  “B-but…he’s Admiral Daniels,” Calahan argued. “The Commander in Chief. He has access to everything!”

  “Ordinarily, yes, unless prohibited by a restraining order.” Wynter grinned, but the expression wasn’t a nice one. “In this case, court order number nine-one-seven-three-four-nine expressly prohibits Admiral Daniels from gaining any information on me, my whereabouts, or my medical status over and above what is required for me to carry out my duties as a Coalition soldier. As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, it prohibits you from telling him whether or not I am pregnant.”

  She ignored her father completely as she approached the end of the bed. “Now, am I fit to be released for duty? Or is there any medical reason I am being kept here?”

  Calahan shook his head. “No, Sergeant. You are one hundred percent fit and healthy. Just be a little careful over the next few hours, and if you develop a headache, then come right back to see me in case of concussion.”

  “Got it. Thank you. Excuse me please, gentlemen.” Again, she paid no attention to her father as she skirted around the small group of doctors and headed for the door. As expected, her father was hot on her heels.

  “Wynter, wait. Please.”

  The last word made her pause in the corridor. She couldn’t once recall her father using the word. Not with her, or any member of their family. Ever.

  “Listen, I know I’ve made mistakes. But please, I want to put this right—”

  Her eyebrow shot up as she rounded on him, ignoring a scuffle farther up the corridor for a moment.

  “Right? So having my partners and I stunned and taken into custody was an attempt to put things right?”

  He had the grace to look discomforted and back up a step.

  “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that they’d go in so aggressively. I certainly didn’t realize that they’d use stun guns.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping tiredly.

  Wynter frowned. He looked…old. Worn. Tired. More shouts down the hall tugged at her, but she kept her gaze firmly on the man in front of her. For the first time she saw him as a man, rather than the father who’d tried to control her life with an iron rod until she’d had enough and walked away.

  “I’ve disciplined the officers concerned. When they carried you in…” He looked up, and she was startled to see tears in the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry, Wyn. I screwed up. I tried to control everything. You, your mother… And look where it got me. Maggie was going to leave, and I have to rely on military intelligence to track down my own damn daughter. Things shouldn’t be this way… Please, let me make it right.”

  Her anger eased a little as tears ran down his face, right there in the middle of the medical bay. In public. Her father, Admiral Daniels, Commander in Chief of the Coalition forces, was crying.

  Familiar voices rang out, barking orders. “Okay, move it along here people. Nothing to see.”

  “You heard the man, haven’t you people got jobs to go to?”

  Camden and Rennick appeared out of nowhere, surrounding them and moving people on to spare her father’s pride. She paused, a war raging within her. She’d been angry at him for so long but… God, hadn’t she made mistakes herself? Wasn’t she responsible, at least in part, for the situation they found themselves in? The bottom of her stomach disappeared in a sickening lurch. For heaven’s sake, she’d gotten a court order against her own father when all he’d tried to do the last couple of times they’d spoken was reconnect with her. The little part of her that had always wanted—needed—that came rushing to the fore, and her pride wavered a little. Taking two steps forward, she put a reassuring hand on his arm, rubbing it as his shoulders shook.

  “Shh, it’s okay. We…we can give it a try,” she murmured, looking over his shoulder and seeing the tall figures of her two dogs. She smiled, and a warm feeling spread out from the center of her chest
when they smiled back, warmth and support in their eyes.

  It wasn’t a fairy-tale ending, but she’d seen too much to believe in fairy tales anymore. What it was, was a start—a happily for now—and that was all any soldier could ask for.

  And it was all she needed.

  ###

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  ‘What Happens in Vegas...’ by Terry Towers

  -

  Chapter 1

  The Present – Genevieve

  “Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Genevieve’s emerald green eyes flashed with anger before narrowing as she watched the sexy as sin NYPD officer Dane Porter stroll into her boutique. “What are you doing here?”

  A smirk spread across Dane’s lips at her question. “You called to report a break-in. I was the lucky one to be assigned to answer the call and take your information.”

  Genevieve didn’t return his smile.

  “Maybe I changed my mind.” Flashes of her brief tryst with Dane in Las Vegas a couple of weeks prior sprang into her mind. He was a gorgeous man, she’d give him that, with blonde hair that was just a smidge too long to be considered short and rich blue eyes. It upset her that just seeing him standing before her, dressed in his officer’s uniform made her remember – and long for – his touch.

  Crossing his arms over his thick, muscular chest, he cocked a brow up at her, still amused. “You changed your mind? So, there wasn’t a break-in and you’re wasting taxpayers’ money by making false calls to 911? That’s an offense, you realize; I could cuff you and take you in right now.”

  “Oh, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  I hate that you’ve seen me naked! And that I wanted you touching me then… Touching me now… She growled at herself and once again attempted to free herself of her unwelcomed thoughts.

  Ignoring her, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, produced a pen and pad of paper, then stepped further into the boutique until he was standing before her and began looking around. “What did they take?”

  “Fine!” She gave him a little shove as she rushed past him and motioned for him to follow her to the broken glass cases which, up until that morning, held dozens of pre-loved authentic designer handbags. “This way.”

  She knew she shouldn’t act like such a child with him. She was a twenty-five-year-old business owner. She should be acting mature, not behaving like a teenager with a broken heart. But, dammit, she was upset with him and even more upset with herself. She wanted to just forget.

  Oh please, he didn’t force you into anything. You enjoyed every second of it, a voice at the back of her mind chimed in. Instead of making her see reason, the voice only infuriated her further – because it was right.

  “Striking an officer in addition to false 911 calls. You could be in big trouble, Ginny.”

  “My name’s Genevieve.”

  “You didn’t mind me calling you Ginny in Vegas.”

  She spun around and shot another glare at him. “Very funny. There was a break-in.” She motioned to the shattered glass of the empty cases. “They took all the handbags. The Birkins, Gucci, Louis Vuitton… They took it all. And they broke the glass of the counter and took all the jewelry and small leather goods. I bet they took well over two hundred thousand in goods.”

  She felt hot tears threatening to emerge and forced them back. She started with nothing and now much of her most expensive merchandise – three years of gathering and dealing – gone. Sure she was insured, she could rebuild, even if all of her bestselling merchandise was gone, but it would take time. People looking to sell Birkin bags for below their value for resale didn’t come along every day, even in New York.

  The amusement faded from his expression as he began to write. “Do you have a list of what was stolen?”

  “Yeah, let me check the computer.” She made her way into the back office, assuming he’d follow her and not wanting to look him in the eye. If she looked him in the eye she might break down and then look to him for support. She might fall into his arms and the anger she was feeling would dissolve. If the anger was gone then she’d have to admit what they did was what she wanted, regardless of whether she’d admit it to herself or not.

  As she sat down at her desk she booted up the computer. She heard his footsteps entering the small office, but didn’t bother to look up.

  “So they took stuff in the store, but not the computer?”

  “My office was locked. They probably had enough without bothering to break down the office door.”

  “I see. That’s possible. You don’t have an alarm?”

  “Of course I do.” Her tone was sharper than intended, but she didn’t care. Shrugging, she refused to look up at him. “Guess it didn’t work.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She lifted her gaze to lock with his, angered at his dismissive tone. “What? You think I’d just fake a break-in?”

  Dane’s jaw clenched as he thrust a hand through his hair, all humour lost from his eyes. “Look Ginn- Genevieve, I understand we left things on a very bad note in Vegas, but I’m a cop and I have a job to do. I’m sorry if you were upset with what happened, but I’m trying to be friendly and help you here. Can you please work with me on this?”

  Closing her eyes, Genevieve took a moment to steady her nerves, feeling slightly guilty at her reaction upon seeing him again. “I’m sorry. I’m frazzled and seeing you right now, just…”

  The tension drained from him. “It’s fine. I’ll go check out the security system and see if I can figure out why the break-in didn’t set it off, while you make me a list of stolen items.”

  She couldn’t help but admire his broad shoulders and back as he turned and exited her office. A mix of emotions raced through her seeing him again. Of the millions of people living in New York and the hundreds of cops what were the chances of her ever seeing Dane Porter again?

  The remainder of the afternoon went by quickly. After Dane left she spent the afternoon and into the early evening cleaning up, dealing with the insurance company and calling all of her clients, hoping that they would have items they were willing to sell. She still had a store full of gowns and clothing from all the top designers, but the bestselling items were handbags, wallets and smaller items; the items that were stolen. Apparently, the thieves knew what was easiest to peddle as well. It sickened her that her precious Birkin bags might be sold on a street corner alongside dozens of cheap knockoffs.

  Exhausted physically, mentally and emotionally she closed and locked her office door and made her way toward the front of the store. Halfway to the store entrance she heard the bell ring, signalling a customer. Apparently they hadn’t seen the closed sign and she’d forgotten to lock the door.

  Dammit!

  “I’m sorry we’re –” Her eyes focused on the person entering the shop and she could have sworn her heart stopped for a fraction of a second.

  You have got to be shitting me, as if this day couldn’t have gotten any worse!

  Squaring her shoulders she glared at the person whose body was framed in the store entrance. “What are you doing here?”

  Three Weeks Ago – Genevieve

  “I’m sorry Genevieve, but I just can’t go through with it,” Alex Cane stated, looking more uncomfortable than Genevieve had ever seen him – though she supposed breaking up with her on their wedding day, while she stood before him in her wedding dress would make anyone uncomfortable. Even her slick, rising-star defense attorney fiancé wasn’t immune to the shame of the heinous way he was breaking up with her.

  “Is there someone else?”

  He shook his head, but she saw it in his eyes. There was.

  “We’ve been together since high school, Ginny. Since we were seventeen.”

  “Exactly, eight years, Alex!” She wasn’t sure what she felt more upset by, humiliation or anger. The emotions switched up every few
seconds, but currently, it was anger winning out, causing her body to vibrate with the emotions.

  He stepped forward and grasped her upper arms in his hands, but she stepped away from him, batting his hands away. She didn’t want him near her, or touching her. Never again.

  “It’s better this happen now than getting a divorce in a year’s time.”

  “So you chose our wedding day to decide this!”

  “I wanted to make sure.”

  She shook her head. “You selfish asshole. How dare you!”

  He sighed, taking a step back from her. “I’m sorry. I can… I’ll go down and tell the guests the wedding is off.”

  Genevieve’s emerald green eyes widened in alarm. Oh my God, the guests! Everyone is downstairs. Waiting.

  “Don’t do me any favours!” she spat, venom in her tone. “Allow me.” The anger within her increased as she pushed past him with so much force he stumbled backward a step, and out the door. She raced down the hallway and down the stairs heading toward the chapel, Alex in hot pursuit.

  “Ginny, hold on. Wait!”

  At the bottom of the staircase he caught up with her, grasping her arm and stopping her from proceeding into the chapel. “Let go of me Alex, or I swear to God!” Her hands fisted at her sides. She wanted to hit something… she wanted to hit him! But she didn’t. She didn’t want this day turning into more of a fiasco than it already was.

  Seeing the rage in her eyes, Alex released her, allowing her to continue to the chapel. “I can do this,” he protested from behind her. He was following, but at a safe distance.

  She ignored him. She’d tell everyone herself. Knowing Alex, the weasel that he was, he’d somehow make it sound like breaking off the wedding was her idea. She refused to take any blame for this.

  “Everybody,” she called out to the half-full church. Not everyone had arrived yet, but there were close to two hundred of the three hundred guests invited already seated and mingling.