Love Under Two Adventurers [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  Either/or, they couldn’t stay in the cabin indefinitely. Others in the family would want to be making use of the cabin soon. And they’d want their own place for when they were in Lusty.

  Rebecca set off, not really thinking about where she was going. After several minutes, she realized she was following the path toward the road. She shrugged. Less chance of my getting lost that way.

  She liked the cabin and even cherished the quiet, country setting, but nature girl she was not. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she had a horrible sense of direction. Better to just stick to the path. Better to just celebrate what she was good at and not worry about the rest of it.

  She was good at taking the images in her head and putting them on canvas. She’d never been the kind of artist who needed to set up in front of a vista in order to reproduce it in oils. Her visions went from her head to her sketchbook, and then to her brush.

  She was good at traveling, and liked to wander, liked to see the world. She liked to light here and there, stay for a while, get to know a place. Then she usually would be on her way again. She returned home to Lusty a couple of times a year.

  Rebecca wondered if Greg and Cody understood she wasn’t anchored to any one particular place, that she had no qualms about traveling the globe with them. Yes, she’d like a base to come back to. Lusty would always be home and she would always need to return to her roots here in this small Central Texas town. But she could paint wherever she was.

  She didn’t care where on God’s green earth they ended up, as long as they ended up there together. She didn’t much care where they traveled to, as long as they traveled together. Didn’t they understand that? Greg could take Kate’s offer or leave it. It didn’t matter to her what he did, as long as he was happy. She didn’t care where they were, as long as they were together and happy.

  And together to her meant not just occupying the same space. It meant being honest and open and laying all their emotional cards on the table.

  Rebecca’s step faltered. “Well, hell’s bells, maybe I should tell them all of that. Maybe instead of getting all pissy-eyed and letting my inner imp throw a hissy fit, I should just tell them!” She wanted everyone to get emotionally naked, maybe she’d better be the first one to shuck those particular clothes.

  “Becca!”

  She stopped at the faint sound of her name being called and looked behind her, a little surprised when she couldn’t see the cabin anymore. Turning back to the direction she’d been going, she couldn’t see the fence line either. She was standing on one of the many small hillocks that dotted the path from cabin to road.

  Perspiration dotted her skin and she labored a little for breath. She guessed she’d been making tracks for nearly a half hour. She was probably about a good two or maybe three miles from the cabin.

  She supposed she should turn around and head back. She’d been enjoying the walk, but someone—it sounded like Greg—had just called her name. Her voice wasn’t strong enough to carry against the small breeze that had sprung up from the southwest. She should head back. She didn’t want to worry them.

  It occurred to her just then that she’d left the safety of those four walls and those two delicious men without the loaded .22 that she’d been keeping by the front door since she’d come to the cabin a few weeks before.

  She ran a hand through her hair and wondered where she’d left her brain. “Geez, Rebecca, talk about stupid things to do!”

  “Hey, you talk to yourself, too. Isn’t that weird? Do you hear voices, too, just like I do?”

  The woman stood perhaps thirty-five feet away, and had been headed in her direction, and had likely just stepped over the rise. She was breathing heavily as if the trek had really taken a toll on her. Rebecca took a step backward, because even though she’d never heard her voice before, and even though her hair was dark, and not blonde, she knew who the woman was.

  “No, don’t do that. Don’t walk away from me. I really need to talk to you. It’s important!” And then the woman lifted her right arm from behind her back and pointed a very nasty-looking gun at her.

  Rebecca found her mind suddenly clear and sharp. The gun looked like a Glock, and the woman was holding it one-handed.

  Nobody who knows what they’re doing fires a Glock one-handed. That’s what they do on television, and it’s just not realistic.

  Fight or flight was a basic human instinct, a feral response to sudden danger. Rebecca didn’t think, she just turned and ran. Legs already sore from walking protested, but Rebecca didn’t care about that. She just dug deeper and ran as if her life depended on it—because, most assuredly, it did.

  The sound of a gunshot and a ping on a rock to her left just made her dig deeper. Two more shots rang out, and she could have sworn she felt the heat of a bullet sail past within an inch of her face.

  “Come back here, whore! Damn it, stand still. I have to kill you!”

  Crazy bitch. Fucking crazy bitch. The thought was the only one in her head as she charged toward a small thicket of trees. If she could get to the trees, she might be able to grab a rock off the ground and bash that crazy fucking bitch’s brains out.

  Three more shots rang out. And then she heard return fire and a startled cry.

  “Rebecca!” Jake’s voice cut through her terror, and she stopped, slipping to her knees on the grass and dirt as the strength left her legs and the sound of his pounding footsteps neared.

  He was there in an instant, his hands on her shoulders as he squatted in front of her. “Are you all right? Have you been shot?”

  “I’m good. Winded, but good.”

  “Hey.” Adam joined them a minute or so later, and when he held a hand out, she let him pull her to her feet.

  She looked up at her lawman cousin and said, “Didn’t I tell you she was a crazy stalker chick?”

  “You did, indeed.” He hauled her into his arms for a fierce hug.

  The sound of pitiful weeping reached her. She pulled away from Adam and looked in the direction of the sobs. Naomi Lake was sitting on the ground, her head bowed low as she cried. Her left hand clutched her right arm and Rebecca could see blood seeping through her fingers.

  Matt Benedict stood over her, as did a man she recognized as a state trooper. Two other men hung back—civilians, and vaguely familiar to her.

  “Connor nailed her in the arm, which made her drop the gun.” Adam said. “He gets a gold star for not killing her.”

  “You wouldn’t have killed her either, Adam,” Jake said.

  The grunting sound Adam made was eloquently noncommittal, Rebecca thought.

  “Becca!”

  Greg’s voice pulled her gaze to him. He and Cody had driven up, and were out of the truck in a heartbeat, running toward her. Cody looked a little worse for wear, and Greg’s gaze moved between her and their man.

  She’d never been so happy to see two men in all her life. She ran for them, not even excusing herself from her cousins first.

  Then they had their arms around her and she knew she was safe. She was shaking, but thought maybe she wasn’t the only one. She didn’t know how long they all stood there, the three of them, but they didn’t speak and, she thought, for this moment, no words were necessary.

  The sound of voices and another car finally got through to her. She turned around to look at what was happening. Another state police cruiser had pulled up, and there was another cop on the scene. One of the troopers was wrapping something around Naomi’s arm while Adam spoke to another of the troopers, gesturing toward them, and then ahead—toward the cabin. That trooper nodded, and he and Adam got behind the wheels of their respective cruisers. Jake climbed into Adam’s car and the other two men, who Rebecca had recognized as investigators who sometimes worked for the Town Trust, got into Matthew’s car.

  Naomi was being led to the second cruiser, her hands handcuffed in front of her, likely in deference to her wound.

  Adam pulled to a stop. “Let’s all head back to the cabin. The state p
olice are handling this, and the trooper behind me will want to take your statement.”

  “Okay. It’ll just take me a moment to turn the truck around,” Greg said.

  Rebecca busied herself, a few minutes later, rushing about the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee and hauling out some cookies for everyone.

  Greg had directed Cody to one of the kitchen chairs and then moments later set a half glass of Jack Daniel’s in front of him. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Cody lifted the glass. His tremors, and the ashen look to him when she’d first set eyes on him, told her something had happened.

  By the time she’d finished playing hostess, she’d figured it out—or thought she had.

  She knew from all her research that loud sounds could trigger PTSD episodes. Likely the sound of the gunfire had done that very thing to Cody.

  Sitting next to him, she reached for his hand, and when he seemed reluctant to give it to her, she simply took it.

  A heartbeat later he laced his fingers with hers and held on tight.

  “I’ll send you the background on this situation, Trooper Brant,” Adam said. “Rebecca came into my office some time ago to bring me up to speed on a situation she’d found herself in back in Seattle.”

  As Adam recounted the facts, and his interactions with Detective Dwyer of the SPD, Rebecca was able to calm down from her scare. When she shivered, Cody lifted his glass of Jack and placed it against her lips.

  She sipped lightly and then grinned at him.

  His grin in return wasn’t one of his brightest.

  “Miss Jessop, can you tell us what happened this afternoon?” Trooper Brant asked.

  The state trooper had his smartphone out and recorded her words. She didn’t go into details about the anger that had pushed her out the door. That had nothing to do with crazy stalker chick. So she gave the details as best as she could, ignoring the many different male curses when she spoke of turning away from Naomi Lake and running like hell.

  “Why did you do such a reckless thing?” Trooper Brant asked.

  Ah, the cursers are now snickering. She said, “Because I could see it was a Glock she had. I’ve fired a Glock. Those suckers kick back, and hard. I’m pretty experienced with both handguns and rifles. If I was going to fire a Glock at someone and hope to hit them, I’d use a two-handed grip.”

  She saw horror on most of the male faces, and fascination on one. That one was the man who’d shot Naomi Lake. Rebecca shrugged. “I ran like hell, and sure enough, her shots went other than where she thought she was aiming.” No need to tell them just how close a couple of them had come to her. That would be like throwing kerosene on a wildfire—and despite recent behavior, Rebecca Jessop was neither stupid nor a pyromaniac.

  Trooper Brant turned off his phone. “That should be enough for now. I’ll notify Sheriff Kendall when you can come in to his office to meet with us there. We’ll have you sign your statement at that time, and answer any follow-up questions we may have for you.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  Matt got to his feet. “I’m going to head back. I’ll show Trooper Brant the way back to the county road.”

  Rebecca got up to hug her cousin, who kissed her forehead. “I’ll think about whether or not I’ll call your brother on the way back to town,” he said.

  “Traitor.” Rebecca said that with a pout, but Matt just laughed in her face. She returned to her seat as the two men went out the door.

  She lifted her cup and took a sip of her coffee. Her nerves were slowly smoothing out.

  “That was good thinking on your part,” Connor Talbot said. “Although I’m sure none of the men in this room who are either your family or your lovers would agree with that assessment.”

  “Oh, it could have been much worse, believe me,” Adam said. There was a slight, though definite sneer on his face. “She might have run toward the crazy stalker chick, thinking to disarm her by using some kung fu–type karate kick.”

  “I thought about it for a split second,” Rebecca admitted. “Didn’t like my odds. I figured she was a crappy shot, in which case the more distance between us, the better for me.”

  “Jesus. Okay, that spanking is definitely a go.” Greg hadn’t spoken that loudly, but everyone in the room heard him.

  Rebecca was grateful, as her cheeks burned with heat, for the small blessing that everyone in the room chose to ignore his comment.

  “Since we’re here,” Jake said, “why don’t we fill Mel and Connor in on the reason I’d asked to meet with them in the first place?”

  Rebecca raised one eyebrow, and then looked at her men. Cody appeared as confused as she. Greg said, “Good idea.”

  Jake turned to Connor Talbot. “Do you have any contacts among people, officially or unofficially, in Turkey, near Bab Al-Salameh?”

  Connor crossed his right leg over his left. “That’s an odd question, out of the blue. May I ask why you want to know?”

  “Cody, here, is an internationally renowned photographer,” Jake said. “About a month ago, he accompanied Drummond Pierce, a newsman who used to be with ANN, into Syria. Pierce has a book deal, and the publisher hired Cody to take photos for the project. Pierce went off and ‘secretly’ arranged meetings with his contacts, with a view to setting up interviews with rebel leaders in Syria. Then he announced he was ready, and he and Cody set off. Shortly after entering that chaos-riddled country, their car was ambushed, and the two men taken hostage. Pierce managed to escape, and find his way back to Turkey, practically overnight. He was on the next flight to New York, not even waiting to see if his photographer would be freed, or not.

  “Fortunately, Greg had done some humanitarian aid work in Syria, helping out some of the rebel factions. They returned his kindness buy carrying out a manhunt. The long and the short of it is, Cody was rescued and brought to safety in Turkey six days after his capture.”

  “He was wounded, and nearly died from infection because the bastards who took him had shot him and failed to offer medical aid.” Greg’s words let everyone know how pissed he was about that. “Cody’s publisher released a statement saying they believed Cody had been killed, just before he was brought to safety,” Greg said. “And just recently, Drummond Pierce has been giving interviews where he’s been telling anyone who will listen that Cody is unbalanced, mentally ill, schizophrenic, and basically a man whose word cannot be believed.”

  Connor looked from Greg to Cody. The investigator didn’t look too happy. “That sounds like a rat-bastard covering his ass to me.”

  Greg sighed. “That’s what I thought, too. We’re just not sure if he’s covering his ass because he acted cowardly—or if there’s another reason.”

  Connor pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at it, likely verifying that he had a signal. Then he said, “Just give me a minute, please,” and he got up and went outside.

  “What is it you think Pierce is afraid of?” Cody asked. “I thought it was just that he didn’t want anyone thinking he’d been a coward in leaving me behind. Well, that, and the fact that he’s playing up the situation to make his book worth more. Nothing sells a story like making it seem larger than life. ”

  “I got thinking about it, and another possibility occurred to me,” Greg said.

  Connor Talbot reentered the cabin. “I have people on it. I don’t think it will take very long to verify if what you suspect is, indeed, fact.”

  “Okay, can someone fill in the clueless among us?” Rebecca asked.

  “Benedict suspects that Pierce arranged for the kidnapping in the first place. The original plan was probably that you were supposed to die, Mr. Harper. But for whatever reason, your captors went back on the deal they’d struck with Pierce, probably thinking they could ransom you and collect twice.”

  “Son of a bitch. That possibility never occurred to me,” Cody said.

  “Then, because he couldn’t know for certain what you knew,” Greg continued, “Pierce decided to ensure that if you ever stepped
forward with accusations, no one would believe you.” Then he looked at Cody. “I told you I didn’t like that asshole, the first moment I laid eyes on him.”

  “So you did, lover. So you did.” Cody rubbed a hand over his face. “Well this has been just a hell of a day, all told.”

  “You can say that again.” Jake sounded as ragged as Rebecca felt. She hoped, very much, that their guests—as life-saving as they had been—would leave soon. She wanted to be alone with her men.

  “I have other contacts in the FBI. If I get the response we all believe I will, I’ll see to it that agency is put in the loop. Would that be sufficient?”

  Rebecca wasn’t certain she knew what he meant by sufficient, but she had an idea. Greg looked at Cody, who nodded.

  “Yeah. That rat bastard gets hauled up on charges, I’ll be a happy man,” Greg said.

  “Thanks, guys,” Jake said. “It just pisses us off when someone messes with one of us.”

  Cody just shook his head, but there was a smile on his face. Then he looked at Greg, and then met her gaze.

  “Blue Eyes, can you do me a favor, please?”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “Call your brother, the doc.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and then inhaled shakily. When he opened them again, she saw trepidation, and resolve. “I need help.”

  Chapter 21

  “I don’t know why it had to be the community center, and why we couldn’t be there, too,” Rebecca said.

  Greg felt the exact same way. He slid his arm around her as they headed into Lusty Appetites. “I don’t either, babe. But I trust Robbie. You should trust him, too. He’s your brother, after all.”

  “That’s the thing about siblings. They kind of stay the same bratty siblings they were growing up—in your own mind, at least.”

  Greg thought about his own brothers and sister. “You may have a point.”