The Strength of Love: Happily Ever Menage (The Luck of Love Book 3)

by Serena Akeroyd

  “Night.”

  She cut the call, and the screen froze for a few seconds, showing her stuck in a half-pouted kiss she was blowing their way. The pair of them studied her for a second.

  Luke murmured, “You almost blew that.”

  “What?”

  “You know what. Why did you question where she was? You’re not a brigadier general at home. You can’t ask her to leave, then bitch about where she goes.”

  Josh scowled. “I want to make sure she’s safe. And anyway, what the hell is in Lafayette? Who goes there for a break? I thought she was going to a retreat or something…in-state. Not out of it.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Louisiana is next door.”

  “So? It’s not like she has family there. Or does she?”

  Luke frowned. “No. Her mother’s in San Antonio, isn’t she?”

  “No, she isn’t.”

  When Josh cleared his throat, Luke narrowed his eyes at him. “Gia told you differently?”

  “No. When we picked Gia as our surrogate, the background check I ran on her showed no relatives in Texas. No living ones, anyway.”

  “And you’re only telling me this now?” Luke shook his head. “Are you being serious?”

  “By the time I double-checked, it didn’t seem to matter. Gia already had our cocks twisted into knots, and we were trying to figure out a way to get her into bed with us.”

  “Her mother’s alive, Josh. The way she talks about her…the woman’s not dead.”

  “I know. At least, Gia thinks she is.”

  “As far as I’m aware, they never talk. Ever. Or Gia never mentions it.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” Josh jerked a shoulder. “I figured…”

  “What?” Luke asked when he broke off.

  “Prison, maybe? Or something like that. But either way, there’s no record of Sara Jefferson after 2001.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “It’s more than weird.”

  “How come you never asked her?”

  “Like I said, by the time it mattered, I didn’t particularly care.”

  “That’s unlike you.”

  He grunted. “You’re telling me.”

  “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “I guess I’m surprised. I figured everything ran clear with the background check, because you never mentioned it, and now I realize you’ve been lying all this time.”

  “No, not lying. Omitting.”

  “Doublespeak and bullshit.” Luke got up, groaning a little as he moved away from the stool and hefted over to the island, where he’d been ricing the potatoes. He peered down at them and grumbled, “These are stone cold now. Shit.”

  “Microwave them.”

  He snorted. “They’d have the texture of wallpaper paste.”

  “Gia’s spoiled you.”

  “She has that. I think if I put them in a double boiler, added some butter and cream, it might salvage them.”

  Josh’s eyes widened. “What the hell is a double boiler?”

  Luke stared at him a second, then mumbled, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll sort it.”

  Unused to being treated like an idiot—even if he was a cooking dunce—he was about to protest, and then he realized it gave him a “get out of jail free” card. He hated cooking, and now he’d been given permission to avoid it for a night—he wasn’t about to argue.

  No one could call Josh Henderson an idiot.

  Well, not without living to tell the tale.

  * * * *

  She’d almost fallen at the first hurdle.

  Dammit.

  Gia hadn’t expected Josh to question why she was in Lafayette; she hadn’t thought it would matter.

  Trust her to get that wrong and to be totally unprepared for his questions.

  Lexi’s, she’d expected and had been prepared. Josh knew something was up, and she couldn’t afford his curiosity.

  Not when it meant keeping her mother safe.

  Even if she was endangering her mama by contacting her at all.

  Sighing, she rolled onto her side and stared at the grody wall of the motel she was staying in.

  Seventies’ chic had long since left the building, and she’d been grateful she’d brought her own sheets with her. Anal as it seemed, a woman couldn’t live with Josh for long without some of his habits rubbing off on her.

  For their honeymoon in Las Vegas, where they’d spent a small fortune on a hotel suite, she’d had to pack clean bedsheets. And neither she nor Luke had thought a damn thing of it. They were too used to Josh’s type A quirks.

  A smile twisted her lips. Josh, for all he could be a pain in the ass, was pretty damned cute when he was at his germophobic best. It could get irritating, but at the minute, missing him as she was, cute fit as the adjective of choice.

  She knew she had to be better prepped for Josh’s questions tomorrow. Luke had saved her hide by stopping Josh in his tracks, but she couldn’t depend on that again. The fact he’d mentioned his injuries at all had immediately grabbed her attention—though she’d been relieved as hell for the change in topic and had clutched it with both hands.

  Gia disliked lying to Luke and Josh. In fact, she hated it. Secrets were a part and parcel of their jobs, so she’d come to accept there was always something she wasn’t going to know where they were concerned. But with the personal stuff, she hoped they shared everything.

  Hell, they’d better, or she’d skin their balls.

  And though she was emotionally invested in those parts of their body, it wouldn’t stop her. She had to keep this secret from them. Gia had no choice, but when national security wasn’t at stake, it wasn’t like they had any other reason to stay quiet.

  Pursing her lips at the double standard, she curled up in her sheets and wished like hell those two pains in her behind, aka the loves of her life, were sandwiching her between them.

  She slept alone occasionally when their timetables demanded it, but she’d lost any preference for it—even if it meant having a larger part of the bed to herself—when the three of them had become an item.

  She wished she could ask them if she’d done enough to protect her mom, wished she could share this with them, but it wasn’t to be.

  Until her mama was off the Lusardi family’s hit list, she needed to be protected, and that was that.

  Chapter Three

  Considering she’d had notification of the package’s delivery and her mama hadn’t immediately called, Gia’s mood could be described as one word: glum.

  She’d managed to hide her unhappiness to Josh and Luke over the past three video calls, but from their perplexed stares and questioning looks, she wasn’t certain if she was doing that good a job of covering it up.

  Gia had high hopes, which were in the throes of being dashed, and the truth of it was, her hormones were playing havoc with her too. If she’d had any doubt about being pregnant, those doubts had gone out the window. She’d spent half of the past three days on the brink of tears or actually crying. And Gia didn’t cry well. She’d had to waste an hour covering up puffy eyes, red cheeks, and a sore nose before Josh, Luke, and Lexi’s evening call.

  Rather than waste another day in her motel room, waiting for her mother to call, today was the first time she’d decided to explore.

  In Lafayette’s metropolitan area, she’d found a cute little café in St. Martin. Though the day was as grim as her mood, the hot chocolate she had in front of her and the piece of pumpkin pie were going some way to perking her up.

  After her appointment with the sugar fairy, she intended to visit a children’s museum to see if Lexi would like it.

  She figured she might as well stay true to her promise to her daughter and find her some sights to see. She’d already spent the morning finding her the one Dr. Seuss Lexi hadn’t read, Hunches in Bunches, and she’d discovered a charming little bookstore that her daughter would probably love more than the book.

  It had been productive so far, but she was out of
sorts and feeling it. No amount of pumpkin pie could choke this buzzkill, and she knew it.

  Feeling a twinge in her side as she leaned over to spoon up some pie, she rubbed it as she took a bite. It was good, enough to ignore the twinge, and within minutes, she’d scoffed the lot and finished off her hot chocolate too.

  The cutesy café was small and the one waitress friendly, so Gia gave her a generous tip because the woman had been the first person to smile at her that day, and she went on her way out into the bleak day.

  There was another reason today sucked.

  It was the start of Luke’s appeal, and she wanted to know every single detail. Every little piece of information that crossed the appeals board’s hands.

  Being out of the loop, until tonight at least, was a crock of shit, and it was sapping her energy, draining her all the more.

  When the three of them had made the decision to come together as a ménage, they’d known it would be hard. That secrets would have to be kept from most, not simply for the sake of the guys’ careers either, but in general. People frowned on what they couldn’t understand, and they’d accepted that as being a spanner in the works of their happiness.

  Until now, their worlds had been relatively stable. Sure, there had been a few ups and downs, especially with Lexi’s school and Luke’s father, but nothing they couldn’t handle as a triad.

  Until now being the operative words.

  Now, when she needed to be with the men she loved, she couldn’t be. She couldn’t give her support or her love, and it hurt. Enough to make tears prick her eyes.

  Reaching for the ever-present pack of tissues she kept in her jacket pocket, she started to dab her eyes, then shoved the tissue away when her cell buzzed. Grabbing it blindly, she didn’t check the caller ID, just asked, “Yeah?”

  Silence greeted her, a long enough pause that she pulled the phone away and then felt like clutching her chest when she saw the name on her display.

  Sandra (cell)

  Her mama.

  Gulping, yet aware she had to maintain the pretense, she whispered, “Sandra? Is that really you?”

  “Yes, Bunnybear, it’s me.”

  If anything made her crumple, it was the nickname. It wasn’t only the realization her mother was on the other end of the line that was like a punch to the gut. It was the realization she was hearing her mama’s voice after so many years.

  It was the accumulation of it all: the pregnancy hormones, Luke’s appeal, her exile, the past few days of wondering whether Sandra would call at all…

  She staggered back, grateful the shopfront of the café had a ledge she could rest on.

  Lifting a shaky hand, she rubbed at her temples, surprised to feel beads of sweat had gathered there. She was about to reply when the door to the café opened, the bell swinging, and the friendly waitress appeared, concern puckering her brow.

  “Is everything all right, ma’am? I saw you stumble. Do you need a doctor?”

  In the face of such kindness, Gia’s mouth worked for a second, no words appearing until she whispered, “I’m fine. Thank you for asking. I just needed to catch my breath.”

  “If you’re certain,” the waitress replied, doubt lacing her tone. “I’ll keep an eye out in case you start to feel wobbly again.”

  “That’s not necessary, but thank you.”

  She gave her a shaky smile, then turned her attention to the person on the other end of the line, who murmured, “Are you well, Gia?”

  She swallowed. “As well as I can be.”

  “I wasn’t certain. You’ve stayed out of contact for so long, I wasn’t sure if something had happened to make you call.”

  “I’ve lived a life, Mama.” She breathed that word, Mama, needing to say it aloud, even if it was only the once. “But I needed to hear you again.”

  “Of course you did, mia piccola. I’m sorry, so sorry that I got us into this mess.” Sandra sighed, the sound heavy and filled with regret.

  “You did it for me,” Gia replied instantly, knowing it to be the truth.

  “You say that now, but you didn’t when we first got reassigned.”

  “Of course, I didn’t. We were being separated,” she whispered, gaze darting around to make sure no one was listening to her.

  She got up on unsteady feet, preferring to dodder about on legs that felt as supportive as stilts than to have people overhear her conversation.

  With her past, Gia had every right to be paranoid.

  “I know,” Sandra soothed, but it didn’t work.

  Gia defended herself, “I was young. Angry. I said some things I’ve regretted for years. Words I wish I could take back. I’m sorry that we parted with them between us.”

  “They’re nothing I didn’t deserve, Gia. We both know that. I invited that pig into our lives. Not you, me. I did. And he did things to you, things that make me wish I had killed him instead of only shopping him to the feds.”

  “You’d be in prison, not a nice three-bed town house. I’d prefer to think of you in the Bayou State than in lockdown in some jail.” She shuddered at the thought.

  “At least I’d have visitation rights.”

  Gia’s lip quirked. “Wow, this is a gloomy conversation. Let’s not talk about regrets, Sandra. I-I didn’t call to talk about the past but because I wanted to reconnect.”

  “I’ve been waiting for this for years, mia piccola. Ever since I sent you my address.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Gia chided.

  “Maybe, maybe not. What’s the point of living if you have no hope? And where’s hope if you’re denied all access to your only bambina because of something stupid you did when you were young?”

  “I’m relieved you did find a way to let me know where you are. I’ve been waiting a while to get in touch.”

  “You didn’t have to wait,” Sandra assured her.

  “I had to figure out a way to contact you and to keep you safe. I hope I’ve covered our tracks enough. Nothing leads back to you. That’s all I can say.”

  She peered around the park that had suddenly popped up out of nowhere. She’d been walking blindly, Gia realized, the sidewalks and the shopfronts a blur. Yet here she was, surrounded by the thick, gnarled branches of huge trees that were still dealing with the throes of winter.

  Where she’d been born, this was no winter.

  Snow made a winter, thick heaping piles of it. Snow so dense you had to wade through it, and boiling water turned to steam in front of you if you dared to throw a cup into the air.

  Chicago, in high October, was no place to be in a thin jacket and leggings—like she was wearing today. She’d been down south so long though that she was more accustomed to this tepid variation, but the memories she held were rich and never failed to make her smile.

  Days where she and her papa had built snowmen and she and Sandra—or Sara, as she’d been baptized—had made snow angels, screaming when droplets of icy-cold water had sunk into their gear.

  They were good times, innocent ones. When she thought back to her childhood, it was those moments that popped into her head.

  But she was no longer in Chicago. Heck, she wasn’t in her adopted state either.

  The rolling grasslands ahead of her were inviting and, more importantly, empty.

  It being a workday, the majority of folk weren’t enjoying the parks, and a few runners, some mothers circling a small play park bustling with kids younger than Lexi, and a couple of people throwing chunks of bread to the ducks on the pond, were her sole companions.

  She took a seat on a bench that overlooked it all, perched on a steep bank as it was. The view was irrelevant. She was almost blind to the sight of the crisp, clear beauty of the chilly day, intent on her mother, on hearing her voice and wishing like hell she could see her in the flesh. Hug her, kiss her cheek, and be hugged and kissed in return.

  A shudder, filled with longing, overcame her, and she whispered, “I’ve missed you, Mama.”

  “I’ve missed y
ou too, baby.” A shaky sigh came down the line, and Gia knew she was crying. “So very much.”

  Gia uttered words she knew she should have said a long time ago but hadn’t. Now she was a mother, she understood why Sandra had gone to the lengths she had. Not only to protect her little girl but also to make the bastard pay for hurting Gia. “You did the right thing.”

  Sandra laughed, the sound harsh rather than filled with amusement. “You believe that? Truly?”

  “You took down the next leader of the Lusardi crime family. Singlehandedly,” she half breathed, looking around to make sure no one could hear. “Yeah, you did the right thing.”

  “At the cost of being with my daughter, of seeing her grow into a woman.”

  “Well, now we have this point of contact, we can stay in touch. Keep it charged, and I can call you. We can catch up whenever we need to.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Sandra admitted, her tone a little soggy. “I-I’d love to see you, but I’m still frightened, Gia. People like the ones I pissed off, they don’t stop looking.”

  “This can be enough. It’s more than we had before. More than either of us imagined we could ever have.”

  “You always were a rational child,” Sandra replied, a small chuckle in her words. “I often wondered where that came from. Your papa and I, damn, we were so Italian. So emotional and effusive. Then out popped you. This little girl, capable of curling us both around your pinkie and telling us off for arguing in the middle of the store over which pasta to eat for dinner.”

  “I remember that,” Gia retorted, a grin creasing her lips.

  And she could.

  She’d been five, maybe a little younger than Lexi, listening in awe as her beautiful mama and her handsome papa had a flaming argument in the dried pasta section of Rizzoli’s Groceries.

  She’d quickly grown used to their bickering, used to the arguments. They were part and parcel of life, the food of life even. They always ended with huge kisses, large hugs, and scolding looks filled with love.

  Those good times still had the power to make her weep with how perfect they’d been as a family.

  “Course you do. We probably traumatized you,” Sandra scolded, but the reprimand was aimed inwardly.