Brooke’s Special Agents [Men of Montana 11] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour)

by Eileen Green

  * * * *

  Now, sitting across from the only obstacle that stood in her place, she pulled the small gun from her clutch and held it on the table, aimed at Brooke.

  Fear was shimmering off the Alton woman. She was a smart woman and had probably realized there was a gun in her purse. Giselle didn’t want to use it, but she would to get her man back.

  “I don’t suppose Bradley mentioned that he had a liaison with a woman while on his last mission?”

  Brooke shook her head. Of course not.

  “We were in love. Still are.” Giselle added in the last sentence quietly. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “I came here looking for him after he had been shot. The longer he was gone, I figured he needed time to think.”

  “He told me his mark was a woman who had stolen millions in diamonds.” Brooke’s demeanor told Giselle she was a feisty one. “That he was getting ready to arrest her when he had been shot. She disappeared without a trace.”

  “Well, I certainly couldn’t wait around to be arrested. I had to make sure I was safe. Then I would go back for him. I’m set up well financially. He can do whatever he wants now.”

  “He doesn’t love you, you know?” Brooke said.

  “He does. He’s just afraid to act on it because of his job.”

  Brooke smiled. “You seem to think you know him so well.”

  “I do.” Giselle was certain about it. “He told me all about himself.”

  “Except for the fact that he was an Interpol agent.” Brooke was brutal with her words.

  Giselle shrugged in indifference. “We all have secrets.”

  “But we don’t keep them from the people we love. I know all about Bradley because he loves me enough to trust me with his life story. I know about his past. He’s told me about his family. And, the most important thing, he’s told me that he loves me. Apparently, he never did that with you,” Brooke said. “Also, he told me all about the woman he was after in Europe.”

  The heat of fury filled Giselle at Brooke’s words. The simple woman seemed to know more about Bradley than she did. She even said Bradley had told her he loved her. She never understood the term seeing red, but now she did.

  Giselle removed the gun from the clutch and hid it under the black leather bag. Brooke shifted slightly, her hand turning in the light that sat above the table.

  A flash of light reflected off the ring that sat on Brooke’s ring finger, a ring that hadn’t been there a few weeks earlier when she had met with her. A ring that should have been Giselle’s.

  Cocking the hammer on the gun, she aimed it at her enemy carefully from its spot on the table. “Give me the ring,” she demanded harshly, her voice a whisper. “It’s mine!”

  * * * *

  Unease washed over Bradley even though Frank was with Brooke. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt as if someone close by was watching them.

  Looking out at the dance floor, he noticed Frank and Brooke were no longer out there. He let his gaze wander, searching out his woman and his friend. Frank was leaning against a post talking to someone, his body relaxed. It was once when he moved slightly that Bradley could see the person wasn’t Brooke.

  As he rose, Brian Hawthorne, who was sitting across from him, asked, “What’s wrong, Smith?”

  Brian had responded to Brooke’s accident and had interviewed her in the hospital later on. The truck had never been found, and most likely wouldn’t. Frank and Bradley had explained to the man their suspensions of being followed, and he, in turn, had informed Connor Lawton, Trey Goodall, and Lawrence Whitaker, all trusted law personnel.

  Right now, it could be nothing, but he went with his gut. “Brooke’s not with Frank.

  All the men at the table stood, but the sheriff, his deputy, and two FBI agents had their weapons in their hands in a flash. Bradley had to wonder where Lyndee kept hers since she wasn’t wearing a holster of any kind.

  The other men in the group arranged themselves near the women, whether they were theirs or not, yet not drawing too much attention to the fact that danger lurked nearby.

  Bradley pulled his own gun from the holster tucked into the waistband of his jeans. It was instinct to carry it even though he wasn’t permitted to carry in the state yet.

  Slowly, the small group of five wove its way around the crowd sitting and standing in the restaurant. He wasn’t surprised when watchful eyes registered the possible danger, especially with such a formidable group walking the floor. Of course, visible weapons would make anyone curious.

  Frank turned his attention to Bradley when he stopped next to him. Bradley let his eyes roam the area as Frank looked at the friends surrounding him. Frank asked cautiously, “What’s up?”

  “Where’s Brooke?”

  As if tuning into Bradley’s thoughts, Frank looked at one table, then another. He used his chin to motion toward where their woman sat. “She said she saw someone and wanted to say hello. It looks like she’s okay.”

  Frank’s words barely registered as blood began to pound in his arms. His heart seemed to leap into his throat.

  The dark short hair was all he saw of the woman who had been instrumental in getting him shot. She was sitting across the table from Brooke, who looked very uncomfortable.

  The group backing him forgotten, he began to move forward until a gentle hand was laid upon his arm. Looking down, he saw his petite blond coworker looking up at him.

  Lyndee Dwyer was all woman until she morphed into agent mode. Then, she was lethal.

  “Follow my lead,” she whispered.

  At least that’s what he thought she said. His senses were dulled by his anger and his fear.

  Looking behind him, he saw his friends prepared to take action.

  Gigi was a beautiful woman, there was no denying that. But as she spoke to Brooke, all Bradley could see was the evil the woman now possessed. Her cheeks were flushed as if she were angry, but there was a sly tilt to her ruby-red painted lips, and her eyes flashed with cold, calculated loathing. He knew without a doubt Gigi would harm Brooke.

  It was his fault the woman had illusions about him. He had taken his role as Lothario a bit too far, but he needed to get closer because she wasn’t releasing any tidbits of information he needed to arrest her, or where the diamonds were.

  There had been hugs and kisses, but he had drawn the line to anything further, even when she would shed her clothes, trying to seduce him into her bed. He would always tell her she was beautiful, but he had been burned by getting too close to someone too soon. Although her seduction methods were relentless, she always said she understood.

  Apparently, she didn’t.

  As if in slow motion, Bradley watched as Lyndee grabbed a mug of beer from a passing waitress. Brian stopped the waitress from making a fuss by placing a finger to his lips as if to say, shh.

  The others of his group began to speak to some of the patrons around them, and they dispersed quietly at the instructions given.

  Lyndee made her way over to the table that Gigi and Brooke occupied, wavering as she went. Bradley feared Brooke would say something to her friend as she approached, but she remained silent, her eyes reverting back to Gigi.

  Gigi patted her clutch with her visible hand as she said something and started rise. Brooke began to follow suit, but Lyndee wobbled into Gigi, spilling the mug of amber liquid all over the latter’s barely-there red dress.

  Anger and humiliation fed Gigi’s response. A scream erupted from her. “You bitch!”

  Both of Gigi’s hands went up in defense. Her free one moved in to slap Lyndee, which was deflected by Connor, who had grabbed her wrist before she could strike.

  Bradley hadn’t even seen Connor move.

  His own instincts took over, and he rushed forward and pulled Brooke to safety. He shoved her behind him, shielding her from the danger that was playing out next to them.

  Gigi’s clutch fell to the floor as she brought her hand up and pointed the gun at Lyndee, her hand shaking wildly.
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br />   Brooke fought Bradley’s hold on her. She twisted in his grip and struck out at Gigi, her nails scratching at the French woman’s arm.

  Another scream emanated from Gigi, causing her to turn toward Brooke. As she made the maneuver, Gigi caught sight of Bradley.

  “You!” she said harshly. “What are you doing with this American bitch? You belong to me!”

  Lyndee had her own gun trained on Gigi, as did Lawrence and Trey. Connor was still holding onto her other wrist even though she was trying to pull away from him.

  Gigi moved her hand that held the gun until her fingers showed. A sparkle flashed, and Bradley saw that she was wearing Brooke’s brand-new engagement ring. “See! See! I have your ring! We’re going to get married. You don’t need her anymore.”

  The desperation in the woman’s voice told Bradley she had jumped on board the train to loony town. He also knew that a person in that state was a loose cannon.

  The gun in Gigi’s perfectly manicured hand shifted to aim at him. Irrationality had taken over her thoughts, and her hand wavered. “You are mine, Bradley Smith, you hear me! I’ve spent too much time trying to find you to let this bitch take you away!”

  Bradley hadn’t realized how quiet the restaurant had become until Gigi’s screams filled the air. A glance around confirmed that the only people left in the area were the small group backing him up. He had to make sure Brooke and Lyndee were safe.

  Sweeping both arms out, he tried to push both women back, but was met with resistance on one side, and an empty area on the other. Someone had already pulled Lyndee back. However, his woman was a little hellcat.

  Brooke pushed his arm out of the way with what must have been her entire strength and lashed out at Gigi, who screamed when Brooke’s fingers made contact with her face. Three bloody marks marred Gigi’s face as she swung the gun toward Brooke.

  Disbelief washed over Bradley when Brooke sneered at Gigi and spoke.

  “T'as pas compris, maudite de salope? Ce n'est pas toi qu'il veut! C'est à moi qu'il a proposé, pas toi! Maintenant, donne-moi ma bague, putain!”

  Don’t you get it, you fucking tramp? He doesn’t want you! He proposed to me, not you! Now, give me back my ring! Bradley knew by Gigi’s words that something bad was going to happen.

  Gigi snarled at Brooke viciously. “Non! Il est à moi! Maintenant, mourrez-vous!”

  The moment she told Brooke to die, Bradley lunged for the gun. The crack of the bullet being expelled was loud in his ears. He pulled at Brooke and fell backward, hoping the bullet missed her.

  The floor was hard against his back as he held Brooke in his arms. Chaos broke out all around him as shouts became distant in his ears. He knew the wind had been knocked out of him, or at least he hoped as everything went dark.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The sun shone down on her uplifted face. A smile graced her lips as if she were remembering a thought, a smile Frank was glad to see.

  A chaise longue had been placed out on the deck off the master bedroom along with two chairs and a table as part of a patio set. An umbrella was available for hotter weather, or when shade was desired. Plants had been set in each corner along the rail of the deck though they weren’t high enough to block the beauty of the lake view, or the majestic mountains rising behind it.

  Bradley occupied one of the chairs, his feet propped up on one of the rails, his face raised to the bright orb in the sky also. A beer was held in one of his hands while the other held Brooke’s.

  A month had passed since that night at the Tavern. The night that Frank was certain Brooke was going to die. Or, for that matter, Bradley.

  He had watched in horror Bradley’s reaction when he saw who Brooke was speaking with. To Frank, it seemed as if the two were having a conversation that was a bit tense, but he knew differently after looking at his best friend.

  Lyndee had put herself, and her baby, on the line to perform her job, just as the others had. Bradley had tried to wrangle Brooke, but she tried to take matters into her own hands.

  Brooke shouted something at the other woman in French, who had pulled a gun and was erratic. He had heard the woman tell Bradley that he was hers, that he was going to marry her, so Frank was quite confused. When he noticed Brooke’s brand-new engagement ring on the other woman’s hand, he had been about to flip himself.

  He wasn’t sure what Brooke had said, but it had further enraged the woman. More French was shouted back at Brooke. Frank had always thought that the language was beautiful, until two women shouted it angrily at each other.

  Frank’s heart leaped in his chest when the gun had gone off. Bradley had grabbed Brooke and pulled him down with him before passing out.

  Trey had pulled Lyndee out of the way with Lawrence shielding her body. Connor, who already had a grip on the foreign woman’s wrist, grabbed the woman’s short hair and pulled her to the floor, holding her down with his body. She was cussing a streak in English, and then what he assumed was French.

  Brooke wiggled around within Bradley’s hold, still trying to get at the other woman. Frank bent down and helped her up but released her a moment too early. His feisty woman stepped over to the woman, bent down, and slapped her face.

  Another scream sounded from the other woman. She fought against Connor, who was trying his hardest to hold her down.

  A wicked smile settled upon Brooke’s lips. “I told you, bitch! He’s mine. Now, I’ll take my ring back.”

  The forgotten gun in the woman’s hand was aimed again at Brooke, yet she didn’t flinch. Brooke grabbed the gun, wrestled it out of the dainty hand that held it, and then tossed it aside. She reached down again and peeled back the woman’s fingers when they instinctively close into a fist. The ring came off amid more French and English profanities as Connor wrestled with the woman.

  Brooke proudly and with flourish placed the ring back on her finger, her lips turning up in a smile. “Now, that’s better.”

  A hush blanketed the restaurant, everyone looking at Brooke in amazement at her words. Brooke was oblivious to the quiet and the stares. For a moment.

  Rosiness had kissed her cheeks when she realized she was being watched before she hung her head.

  Bradley was checked out by the medics once they had arrived. The wind had been knocked out of him. It was only a minute or two before he regained consciousness and was holding Brooke in his arms.

  Frank had helped with subduing the French woman until the Kalispell police department arrived to take her away. As the ruckus settled within the Tipsy Tavern, the patrons returned to their normal activities as did the action.

  The stigma of having her engagement ring taken from her and winding up on someone else’s finger hadn’t phased Brooke. They had told her they would buy her a new one, but she refused the offer, saying it was a symbol of their love, and after being on Gigi’s finger, Brooke knew how blessed she was to have it, and them.

  When he asked what Brooke had said to the woman in French, Bradley translated, “Don’t you get it, you fucking tramp? He doesn’t want you! He proposed to me, not you! Now, give me back my ring!

  Brooke had proved she was one feisty woman.

  Now, the house had been finished. Brooke was so pleased with how it turned out, giving the three of them enough space to be comfortable. The master bedroom was massively spacious, taking up the entire second floor. The other rooms on that floor was the bathroom, which was a generous size also, and their own personal dungeon.

  Being able to watch his woman and his friend have a relaxing moment between the two of them was a good sight to see after being gone for a week. Frank had been called to Denver by his boss, John Drake, as was Lyndee.

  Once Lyndee had told John of her upcoming motherhood, John needed a replacement. The position was offered to Frank, who gladly accepted. He hadn’t wanted to be jobless, but he would resign the bureau to be with Brooke. Serendipity stepped in, giving him the opportunity to continue working without being away from Brooke for too long.


  Stepping forward, Frank put on the best perturbed face he could muster. Clearing his throat, he reprimanded jokingly, “Well, look what happens when I leave for a week. You two are out here enjoying the sun.”

  Brooke turned her head quickly. A large smile appeared in an instant before she bounded from her chaise. Throwing out her arms, she hopped into Frank’s arms, nearly knocking him down.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he held her while she planted her lips on his. She swept her tongue across the seam of his lips, seeking entrance. He didn’t hesitate to open to her probing tongue, letting her control the kiss.

  She tasted of wine and chocolate, probably a treat she had given herself toward the end of the day. Her tongue played teasingly with his before drawing it into her mouth. She sucked on it briefly before pulling out of the kiss. Slightly leaning back, she smiled.

  “Why didn’t you call and let us know you were coming home?” she asked excitedly.

  “I wanted it to be a surprise.” He smiled.

  “Well, it was,” Bradley said.

  Frank saw that he had made his way over and stood next to him.

  “I thought perhaps we could have a nice evening at home,” Frank said, his voice deepening.

  Brooke shivered, something he had noticed she did when they used their Dom voices. It thrilled him to no end, knowing that she was affected by just their voices.

  “Oh, Bradley and I can get some dinner going between the two of us,” Brooke suggested.

  “I had something else in mind, baby, and it involves cooking, and something in the middle.” He wondered if she would get it.

  When her cheeks went red, he knew she had.

  “I want you to go into the bedroom, undress, and seek your offering pose. We’ll join you a couple of minutes.” Frank knew his instructions would be followed as she never balked at them.

  Eager to please, and eager to learn, not once did Brooke ever hesitate.

  Frank let her slide down his body with hers. She lifted her eyes to meet his when she skimmed across his crotch. The last hour of the drive home had been difficult with his dick so hard. He couldn’t wait to get home and have his woman under him, or perhaps over him.