Sunrise For Three: A Military Erotic Romance (Sexy Siesta Series Book 3)

by Talina Perkins

  The latter didn’t sound like a bad way to go.

  Chapter Six

  Forty minutes later Mia dialed her sister’s phone number for the third time in a row and still no answer. ¡Demonios! The phone rang through the loudspeaker of the SAT phone once more before her sister’s answering message kicked in. Five messages over the course of last night would have to do. She moved her finger over the red button to end the call, but paused at the sound of a frantic woman on the other end.

  “¡Hola!… ¡hola!. ¿Mia? ¿Mia?” Her voice ratcheted up a notch each time she repeated her name.

  “Sí, Ema, estoy aquí, but where have you been? I’ve called like a thousand times, mija!”Colt patted her on the thigh.

  “You have? No call has come through on this phone. Did you dial the shop?” Worry weighed heavy in her sister’s tone.

  “No, just your cell. I know I dialed right.” Mia looked between Colt and Marc who sat on either side of her listening in on the call, their gazes glued to her face. The same worry her sister conveyed through her voice now etched in the lines of their mouths.

  “Let me have the phone.” Mia passed the cell over to Marc.

  “Ema, this is Marc. Sorry to sound abrupt, but have you heard any static in your cell lately or have you had any pops and cracks?”

  “Yeah, a lot actually over the last week or so. Why? What does that mean?”

  In contrast to the freak-out of epic proportions Mia was having on the inside, Marc held his tone even, his eyes glued to a spot across the room as he spoke to her sister.

  Mr. Dangere was the epitome of cool, calm and collected. “And you didn’t tell Gabriel?”

  Gabriel was her sister’s super hot boyfriend and a fellow unit member of the special forces Recon alongside Marc and Colt when they were still in the Marines. In the six months that Mia had worked with them, she’d come to really appreciate just how small the world was sometimes. Within a week of her sister meeting Gabriel, Mia had landed a job with Re-Con securities. On several occasions she had a feeling there was a little backdoor communication between the men. She just couldn’t prove it.

  “I just thought it was a bad connection. No need to tell Gabriel about it.”

  “I understand, Ema. To us it means something else. It means someone is listening in on the conversation. Look, we need to cut this short. We’ll be in touch, and tell Gabriel to keep you close until we sort this mess out.”

  “I read you loud and clear, Marc,” Gabriel spoke up in the background.

  “Gabriel. Good to hear your voice again. I’ll be in contact. Be safe until then and watch your six. All we know so far is that a Mexican drug lord is involved. We just can’t figure out how Mia got involved and what merited their flavor of special treatment.”

  “Drug lord?” This time her sister spoke up.

  Mia answered, “Sí, hermana, it’s a really long story and I’m not sure if we have time now or—”

  “We might be able to help,” Gabriel cut her off mid-sentence. She looked between Colt and Marc, who shook their heads in unison for her to continue. “Then I’ll make it quick. Yesterday I received some photos of myself, photos no one would have unless they were watching me from a well hidden angle on my property, my house was burned down, we were chased by Uzi-toting goons and to top it off mi día espectacular, I received a death threat and the guy who, I don’t know, was given the job of whacking me, left behind a present—a bullet with a symbol carved on it that leads back to a Mexican drug cartel.”

  “Marc, Colt, what the fuck?” Gabriel’s tone mirrored her thoughts to the letter.

  “For real man, this is some fucked up shit, but I wouldn’t go as far as to say Uzi- toting, but yeah, that’s the gist of it all.” Marc squeezed her hand and gave her a small reassuring smile.

  “Joel.” Gabriel said the name of the guy that had helped them unearth that much information the previous night as if anyone who heard it would understand. And it worked. Both Colt and Marc nodded and replied, “Yes.” Obviously, these men still held their former team members in high regard. The thought warmed her because that meant her sister was in good hands with Gabriel. And right now she’d take all the silver linings she could get.

  “A few months back, when Ema and I were in Cabos, we had some trouble with a drug lord named Bougainvillea.”

  Mia froze. Cold chills prickled her skin and her mouth fell slack.

  ¡Demonios! She clamped her hands over her head. ¡Madre de Dios! How could she be so stupid? How could she not have connected the dots between what happened to Ema in Cabos to what was happening to her now?

  “Gabriel, it’s Mia, you think he’s out for revenge? Why would he pick me?” She suppressed the panic edging closer to the surface. Why did knowing who was after her make it scarier? Putting a face to the man behind the attempt on her life should make her feel a step closer to catching him.

  ¡Dios, qué estúpida soy! She palmed her forehead and let out a growl of frustration. She pushed up and stalked over to the floor to ceiling sliding glass doors that led out to the beach. The drawn curtains held the tropical heat at bay, but she could still see the bright flashes of light from the sun bouncing off the water through the thin material. Beyond the deck, the beach lay deserted, and the eerie feeling of someone watching her returned.

  You’re safe, chica, just a little freaked. No one knew where they were staying. The conversation continued behind her between the men.

  “Not Bougainvillea. He’s still in prison serving a life sentence, but it’s not him that would be after you. It would be his family or second in command. It’s true what they say about taking the head off the snake and two growing in its place. In their organizations if you fuck one of theirs, they will come after not you, but your family first. And this time that would be you, Mia. And since he knows both ladies as a family friend, well, there was no way his second in command wouldn’t retaliate.”

  “We have one thing on our side— they don’t know where we’re at. We can hunker down until we get a few more people in for backup. In the meantime, when I go for my meeting with the governor of Jalisco, I’ll ask for their support. We need heavier fire power ASAP. Given the nature of the emergency, I’m sure they’ll be all too willing to lend a hand in getting Bougainvillea’s second in command off their streets.” Marc sounded so sure of how to deal with the…what did they call things when they were all messed up? Ahí sí, un clusterfuck. Fitting.

  And she was about to add another layer of craziness.

  “Ummm…guys? I…uh…” Mia spoke up from where she stood by the window. She worried her lower lip and grimaced at what she had to tell them. “Fuck, here it is. I left a message for Ema last night and told her where we were going. Not the location, but I mentioned the town and Mismaloya area since that’s what you guys told me last night.” She waved in the air to represent the small hillside community that lined the southern bay area of Puerto Vallarta.

  She turned on her heel to face back out toward the water. She didn’t need to see the disappointment etched on their faces to know she screwed up. She clamped her eyes shut, but she could still feel the burn of their stare in the center of her back.

  Marc spoke up first. “We need to go. Gabriel. We’ll call you when it’s safe.”

  “Go to the marina. I have a buddy with a boat there. I’ll give him a call and—”

  An explosive sound of shattering glass cut Gabriel’s words off. The men’s shouts had her swiveling her head to see Marc diving for her like a linebacker standing on the thirty-yard line. Her eyes widened and she braced herself for impact.

  The gauzy white fluff of the curtain blew into her face, followed by a gust of wind from outside scented with the salty brine of the ocean. The curtain whipped back and forth in the strong wind then returned to lie against the window. Something red caught her attention, and she tried to lift her hand to finger the strange bright red substance, but her arm wouldn’t budge.

  Heat blossomed out from her right sho
ulder and it dropped her to one knee. Air lodged in her lungs and her heart beat erratically. ¿Que diablos?

  Her vision blurred from a shroud of cold that settled over her. Like every ounce of her blood had drained, leaving nothing but a wash of cold tingles behind.

  It all happened so quickly, her mind unable to make sense of anything. Male voices called to her, but she couldn’t reach them. Someone was moving her, pulling her deeper into the living room. She worked her legs, but she couldn’t get solid footing beneath her. Her body a paralyzed dead weight.

  Pain swiftly replaced the burst of initial cold.

  More bullets pelted the walls and other windows, sending the glass crashing into the unforgiving Spanish tiled flooring.

  In a sudden rush, every nerve ending between her brain and shoulder came alive with bolts of electricity that raked across her chest and arm in waves of blinding pain. Warm liquid wet her T-shirt and the only thought that came to mind was it wasn’t her T-shirt. She had borrowed it.

  Marc pulled her behind the couch and leaned her against the baseboard. “Let me see how bad.” He shoved his sidearm into the waistband of his jeans, then gently peeled back the collar of her shirt. She grimaced. “¡Hijole…wow!”

  “Don’t move, darling. I’ve got you.”

  His voice anchored her and helped clear the fog her mind had slipped behind to avoid the pain from the bullet that pierced her flesh. The full force of it rooted in her brain and she fought against the black veil lulling her closer. She shook her head. Her heart raced and she knew if she closed her eyes if only for a second that she would pass out. She’d be damned if she would be some damsel in distress princess.

  “Did it go through? Graze her? What?” Colt kneeled beside her, holding both sides of her face. “She’s looking really damn pale, man.”

  Three more rounds pinged against the cement column dividing the windows from the sliding back door just off to their left. Too close for comfort, but the men didn’t even flinch. “Look at me, sweetheart. This is going to hurt like a mother, but he has to do it.”

  “Ahí. Puta madre,” she gritted out a string of expletives at Marc. He slipped her arm out of the sleeve of her shirt and lifted the now bloody rag over her head and discarded it on the floor. Black dots danced in her vision. She didn’t want to pass out.

  “She’s bleeding, but it’s a clean hit that split an inch gash along her shoulder. It might have nicked the bone, but I can’t see.”

  It felt like something hit bone.

  She bit into the flesh of her lip and tried to calm her breathing.

  “We need some backup and fast, man. The fuckers have us out gunned with Ak-47s. Shots sound like they’re still coming from open water. Could be the waves messing with the sound, but—”

  “You’re right. I saw them. Not them, but a boat earlier when I was standing by the window. It just didn’t click at the time.”

  Marc and Colt looked at each other over the top of her head.

  “Oh, darling, we are going to have a fucking serious talk about you not giving us all intel when it happens, woman. Wait here.”

  “Not. Moving.” She rattled out the two words to Marc between breaths, then went back to trying not to pass out. Another shot whizzed over the tops of their heads to bury in the back wall by the front entrance. She stiffened and shifted her eyes to watch Colt to her left. The bullets didn’t seem to bother him, but he kept glancing back at her, his fingers working the metal handle of his sidearm. He angled himself between the back patio and the front entrance, keeping both in his view.

  Colt eyed her suspiciously. He leaned his back against the bottom of the turned couch and called out to Marc. “Really fucking close. Hurry the fuck up, Marc.”

  Marc crawled back to where they took cover with some kind of cloth in his hand and a clean shirt.

  He stripped off his belt, the leather snapping out of the loops with a loud pop, and wound it around the girth of her shoulder and arm to hold his makeshift bandage in place. “This will slow the bleeding.” She nodded. He then shoved her into the clean shirt and positioned her arm across her chest in less than two minutes. Wildfire burst into life and singed every nerve in her shoulder and arm at his quick movements.

  You will not pass out. You will not pass out. Pull it together, chica. She repeated the words the whole time Marc made a sling for her arm.

  Her mouth worked open then just as quickly shut. Might not be the best timing, but the need to apologize tightened her chest. She worked her jaw, trying to tell the guys, but she couldn’t find the words.

  Just breathe. She peeled her eyes open and her vision cleared a bit. Whatever Marc did to her arm helped to relieve some of the pain.

  “Mia, look at me. You’ve lost a fair amount of blood.” Colt knelt in front of her, helping her to sit straight. His eyes searched hers for only a second before he found whatever he was looking for. “We’re moving you to a more secure location. Can you walk?”

  “Sí.” She stretched her legs for good measure.

  “You can lean on me.” Marc snaked his arm around her waist and helped her to her feet. She peered up at him, then at Colt. Solid rock gave more away than their stone cold expressions. She was glad their wrath wasn’t aimed her way. In contrast to their softer sides, her warriors were in full Marine mode. She liked it. Liked both sides, but today she needed their training. There was no doubt they’d get her through this hell alive. And they looked pissed enough to take out an entire army.

  She almost felt sorry for the bad dudes on the receiving end. Almost.

  “Stay in step. Stay low. ”

  “You take lead. We’re going to get you into the pantry.” Normally she’d argue about being shoved into a closet, but with her injury, she’d slow them down and that could get them killed.

  Her legs shook at first, but with the help of Marc she finally made it to her feet. She nodded once. “Lista.”

  Marc took one step before all hell broke loose. A curtain of bullets rained down on them. Rounds hummed through the air and landed with a multitude of pings that bounced off her eardrums. Chunks of cement burst from the high velocity impact. Cotton fluff erupted into the air. Wood splintered under the torturous beating of gunfire.

  “We’re out of fucking time. Cover her!”

  But that was all she saw before a shield of male muscle tackled her to the floor.

  Marc’s handgun resounded next to her ear. Her heart lodged so deep in her throat she gasped for every breath. Her shoulder cried out in pain and she couldn’t move for the weight of Marc on top of her.

  “Let’s move,” Marc shouted next to her face and she hauled ass to where Colt held his hand out to her. He pulled her through the kitchen entrance, taking cover behind the island in the center of the floor. “Stay low. I’ll be right back. Take this.”

  Colt pressed his 9mm into her palm. She slipped the clip loose and checked how many rounds she had then slid it back into place, sliding a round into the chamber. ¿Tres? Only three? God, she hoped they had more ammo. From the sound of it, there was a small army of those Uzi-toting cabrones out there. “Bien.” She nodded and crouched, her shoulder pain off her radar. Thank God for adrenaline rushes!

  Five rounds fired from inside the house. Then stopped.

  “We only want la señorita. Give her over and then we leave. You have our word, amigos.”

  She stiffened against the wood paneling of the kitchen island. Neither Colt nor Marc answered. She trusted they knew what they were doing.

  Shadows moved over the far wall. She followed their projection to the door that led to the side of the house. ¡Demonios!. She pushed up and launched herself at the door just as the handle started to turn. With deft fingers she slipped the bolt home, then sagged against the wooden frame.

  Shards of glass broke over her, the stained glass panes at the top half of the door busted by a beefy fist. She fell forward. “Guys. Get the fuck in here, like right fucking now!” Hysteria skidded along the fringes of her w
ords, which was just fine because any minute she was going to go bat-shit crazy. She didn’t do combat. Guns, está bien, but hombres and hand to hand? No, gracias. That was so far out of her league she’d end up dead before landing even a single punch.

  A sensation niggled the base of her spine.

  She looked over her shoulder, but saw no one coming. Sausage fingers reached in and fumbled with the lock. She aimed.

  Metal grated against metal and she watched the small handle to the deadbolt turn counter-clockwise. She fired. A furry of Spanish burned her ears, and she knew her aim was dead on.

  She backed to the side and stood rigid in the space between the door and the back wall. Wood splintered and broke off. She threw her good arm up, but not in time to block all the debris from nicking her face and neck. Adrenaline pumping through her veins blocked all the pain, the wet stickiness of her blood the only sign she was injured.

  She threw her eyes open. Three feet in front of her stood a very heavily armed, pissed off Mexican. Ahí Chihuahua. Dios sálvame.

  Raw anger rooted deep in her stomach. Fire boiled in her and this time it wasn’t out of fear. This needed to end.

  Mia leveled the muzzle of her gun through the cracked wood of the door, took a deep breath and fired off two more rounds.

  Blood blossomed out from where her rounds buried in the thug’s left shoulder. He dropped to his knees but didn’t go down. She took aim again, only this time she moved out from behind the door. Several shots fired off in the distance, but she couldn’t focus on that right now.

  Her attention zeroed in on her immediate threat.

  She sidestepped the broken wood on the floor, her gun leveled at the man in front of her. With a wide berth she eased in front of him. “Mirame, carbon.”She planted her feet, ready. “I said, look at me, asshole!”

  Her raw words brought his face up, and their gazes locked. He wore a sneer, but it didn’t intimidate her. So much hatred. She’d never met the man, but the hatred she saw in the depths of his black, soulless eyes chilled her to the bone.