Cowboy Boots and Unadulterated Pleasures [Cowboy Boots 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Natalie Acres

  Crue stiffened beside her. Kemper walked out of the courtyard and Brand bowed his head. Only Gabe looked directly at her. Colt had to give him props for keeping his cool.

  “He was,” Brock agreed. “Do you want to tell her the rest or do you want me to continue?”

  Crue glared at Brock. “I gave my word as a man I’d never breathe a word about what happened in Virginia. You started this. You finish it.” He looked at Kelly and said, “And when he’s done, you ask every question you want to know because when I give my word, I do not break it.” His gaze flitted over Colt and he returned to Brock. “And you’re wrong about Colt. None of us broke our word to Daniel. We knew as long as he was alive we couldn’t have a lasting relationship with Kelly.”

  “So if he were still alive, you wouldn’t want me?”

  Crue’s nostrils flared. His jaw flexed. He took several breaths before he said, “Every second of every minute I wanted you. I physically ached when you weren’t in my arms, but I couldn’t risk the consequences.”

  “What consequences?” she asked.

  “Daniel said he’d—”

  “Brock, no,” Brand said, holding up his hand. “I am a man of my word, but I gave my word to a manipulating, lying bastard.” He took a deep breath. “Kelly, forgive me, but that is truly who your father was and I’m starting to see that.

  “If you want to know what happened it’s pretty simple to understand. Your father used our greatest weakness against us. He said we could play around—be boys—but he would see you dead before he would be embarrassed by a public relationship like the Donovans have, and he made us believers several times.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, her eyes now dry from the earlier tears she’d cried.

  “The hit-and-run in LA, the one that landed you in the hospital two years ago? Daniel’s men were behind it. We were supposed to meet you in Beverly Hills, remember?”

  “You didn’t show,” she said quietly.

  “We showed,” Brand said, a distant look marking a remembered time, a horrible moment in their lives. “And we guarded that hospital like hawks, but we left before you were discharged. We had no other choice.”

  “Your father was ashamed of the relationship you’d formed with these men,” Riley said gently. “My guess is, he probably trained you to kill because he believed you wouldn’t appeal to them if you were like them.”

  A gasp slipped from her lips and she slapped her hand over her mouth. Her wide eyes were cold and set, an expression Colt couldn’t bear to see. He stiffened and waited, wondering how they could ever move past this, how she could possibly forgive them.

  Finally, she said, “You didn’t tell me.”

  “No,” Crue said, never apologizing. “We didn’t tell you.”

  “Kelly, I’m sorry,” Colt whispered, wondering if the rest of the evening would go as planned and understanding if she needed to wait until she had time to reevaluate her feelings for them.

  “All this time, I thought there must’ve been someone else. There should’ve been someone else.” She touched Crue’s cheek and he clasped his hands around her wrist, his eyes watering as he held fast to her arm. “There never was anyone else. Was there?”

  Crue’s brow furrowed. “No, Kelly. After you, there wasn’t anyone else.” He glanced over his shoulder and said, “There wasn’t anyone else for any of us.”

  Lifting her head, she stared straight ahead. “Is that all of it?”

  Brock paused. And like all good operatives, she picked up on Brock’s hesitation.

  “No. It isn’t. Tell me the rest.”

  “The reason your father kept his position with the Underground Unit is because these men protected his job by fighting to protect you.”

  “What does that mean?” She looked around the courtyard, her gaze stopping at Kemper when he reentered the area. “You mean you followed someone you couldn’t trust? Someone you didn’t admire?”

  “No,” Kemper said.

  “Not all of us,” Crue said.

  “Let’s just say they learned to manipulate Daniel as well as he manipulated them.” Brock frowned. “Never forget who trained them, Kelly, and how well Daniel trained them. They still had some measure of respect for him.”

  “Like a son’s love for a father,” she muttered.

  “Yes,” Colt said, ashamed of the fact.

  “Why did you let him keep his position?” she asked Brock.

  “These guys thought you were worth the trouble, and I happen to believe they were right.”

  * * * *

  The priests met with Brock and Riley and described the official or standard way of bringing two people together in holy matrimony. As they discussed the ceremony, Kelly could tell how uneasy they seemed and she didn’t like it. They had been coerced into coming to a home to commit an act they didn’t believe in, and she couldn’t let them go through with a ceremony, officiating or not, if their joining represented everything these men stood against.

  Polygamy clearly didn’t work for them.

  “Crue, Colt, I don’t want to get married today.”

  “I understand,” Crue said, straightening his shoulders and clearly expecting her to back out altogether.

  “I’m not saying no,” she said. “I’m just saying not today.”

  The way he’d fought to keep his composure was absolutely precious and warmed her heart, reminding her of all the many reasons why she loved him. The thing was, she loved all of them. As she’d watched Kemper, Brand, and Gabe try to come to terms with the fact that she would commit to the Candy brothers, she wondered why they hadn’t asked for the same commitment.

  “You don’t understand,” she said, turning to Brock and Riley. “They might. But you and Colt won’t.”

  Riley grinned. “Here it comes.”

  “I can’t marry you because I don’t love just you,” she said. “I love all of you. I’m inexplicably devoted to each of you. Knowing that, how can I commit to two of you and leave three of you out?”

  “Told you,” Riley said, winking at her. “Good choice, lady. Ask Sydney. Far as I know she has no complaints.”

  Father John dabbed his brow. “I believe I’ll say farewell now. If we aren’t needed for this occasion, I think it might be best if we go.” He motioned for the other priest. “Now, Father Paul.”

  Bidding them good-bye, Kelly turned to Brock and Riley. “Thank you both for your honesty and your friendship. I know you went above and beyond what any organization would do for its operatives. I’m in your debt.”

  “We know,” Brock teased.

  Colt frowned. “We still have time to work on an alternative plan.”

  “Good luck with that.” Brock laughed. “Oh, and if you talk to Sloane, ask him how his plan B worked out for Veronica. Rumor has it she worked until the baby was born.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  They were settled in within an hour of Brock and Riley’s departure. After locking down the house, Crue met Colt in the hallway outside the master bedroom.

  “What is it?” Colt asked. “I know that look.”

  “Something isn’t right,” Crue said. “It’s a gut feeling I have.”

  “We’re safe here,” Colt assured him. “Come to bed. We’ll all feel better in less than an hour.”

  “Maybe,” Crue said. “I’ll have another look around.”

  “Take your time, little brother,” Colt said, slapping him on the back. “I won’t miss you.”

  As they turned in opposite directions, Colt heading to one end of the house and Crue walking to the other, a spotlight shone inside, lighting up the corridors. The perpetrator was close in proximity, leaving them blinded by the light.

  “Get Kelly,” Crue said, grabbing a pistol from behind a wall clock, a special design built to house several weapons. Cautiously, he approached the terrace doors. “Who’s there?”

  “Mr. Candy?” Several knocks turned into pounding fists. “It’s Father Paul.”

  Colt
stopped outside the bedroom door. “Father Paul?”

  “Just a minute, Father,” Crue called out, returning the pistol to the clock.

  “Who’s at the door?” Kelly asked, tying the sash around her robe as she left the bedroom.

  “It’s Father Paul,” Colt said, cupping her waist and steering her back to the bedroom.

  Glancing over Colt’s shoulder, her eyes widened. “Crue! Get down!”

  Glass shattered as bullets ricocheted off the furniture. Machine guns were the weapons of choice as their new home became ground zero for an outright battle.

  “Fuck!” Crue slammed his fist against the wall as he crawled to the wall where he’d just concealed his weapon.

  At the same time, he saw Kelly. “Wait! Damn it! No!”

  Taking off at a running jump, she darted down the hallway. Footsteps resounded as Colt and Brand tried to stop her. Bolting through the air, she took a sudden leap and grabbed the door to the clock cabinet, swinging it wide and tossing guns to the fellows as if she’d been working combat in war zones for most of her life.

  “Stay down, Kelly,” Crue grated out, squatting beside her once he followed her to the kitchen.

  “Crue, I’ve got this,” she said, standing up and firing multiple shots at an intruder.

  Pursing his lips, he stood next, taking three shots and then pivoting to his left, where he took four more.

  “How many?” Colt screamed out, somewhere in the darkness.

  “Now how the fuck would I know?” Crue asked, reloading.

  Shadows moved down the halls and Crue held his breath. He slid a protective arm around Kelly’s waist, holding her back. “It’s Colt. Be certain of your target!” The little vixen was trigger-happy. She was ready to blow his dear brother to kingdom come and not in a way he might enjoy.

  “I wasn’t going to shoot,” she grated out.

  “Wait here,” Crue demanded, peering around the chopping block.

  A man dressed in a priest’s robe stalked him. “Father, what’s this all about?”

  His gun was drawn. “Crue, let us have Kelly. It’s an eye for an eye in this business. You know how it works. She can’t live here. She can’t continue her life as if nothing happened. Her father cheated a lot of men out of their family fortunes. Someone has to pay.”

  Crue felt a stabbing sensation in his chest. He had feared this kind of retaliation, dreaded the day when his worst nightmares might be realized. “What do you say we just settle this another day and in another way, Father? Colt and I can cut you a check. No one else has to die.”

  “Can’t do it, boy. That’s not how things work in the desert. Sure as hell isn’t how things work over the hill in Death Valley.”

  “I’ve never met a cursing priest,” Crue said, watching his peripheral. He had values and morals. The last thing he wanted to do was shoot a man of God, if in fact Father Paul had the big man’s blessings.

  Father Paul sneered. “I doubt you’ve ever stepped a sorry foot in a church, boy. Now, hand over the girl.”

  “‘Hand over the girl,’” Crue drawled. “Where have I heard similar demands? Hmm…mob movies, live abductions at Daniel’s place…” He deliberately let his voice trail. “You want the girl, Father Paul?” Raising his weapon and spreading his legs in a wide stance, he dared him. “Come and get her.”

  Father Paul lifted his rifle and Colt stepped out of the shadows. “Drop it, man. My brother has shown you a tad of respect because he’s apparently under the misguided impression that you mean us no harm. Considering the way you entered our home, I’m not following his same train of thought.”

  “Fifty million dollars was a drop in the bucket to what Daniel owed this town. Do you hear me! A drop in the bucket! You think I’ll be the last one to pay you a visit? Do you?”

  Crue cocked his gun. The man had a point. He wasn’t the last, but technically he wasn’t the first, either. Before he squeezed the trigger, a pop resounded and Father Paul fell to the ground. Kelly rushed to the man’s side. Standing over him with the smoking gun, she said, “If you want to walk out of here alive, I suggest you shut up and listen. I’m not responsible for my father’s debts, but I will be forced to pay them. That I understand. However, I won’t be paying up with interest and some change, I’ll pay the old-fashioned way, a bullet here and a bullet there. That’s how we settle old scores on the outskirts of Death Valley. Look around, Father Paul. You aren’t in Vegas anymore.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Kelly awoke the next day to a full bed and the high noon sun. Sandwiched between Crue and Kemper, Kelly smiled at Colt, who was standing over the bed, a towel wrapped around his waist and a silly little grin on his face.

  “Good morning,” she said, crooking her finger back and forth.

  “I feel like I’ve waited fifty years to watch you while you’re sleeping in my bed.”

  “Technically, she isn’t in your bed at the moment.” Crue lifted his left arm overhead. Opening and closing his hand, he stretched one side of his body while using his free arm to draw Kelly closer.

  “He’s right,” Brand said, reaching over Crue’s head and stroking Kelly’s forehead. “She’s in our bed.”

  “I can fix that,” Colt said, dropping the towel to the floor. His cock sprang to life and Kelly moistened her lips.

  “Uh-oh,” Kemper teased. “Here we go.”

  Kelly made her way to the edge of the bed, keeping Colt’s cock in her sights as she moved. As soon as her fingers met his flesh, several phones vibrated on the bedside table. The operatives quickly came alive, forcing aside their sexual urges to answer the call to duty.

  Colt was the first one on the line. “Talk to me.”

  Kelly could hear Brock Donovan’s elevated voice. Kelly glanced around the room. Where the hell had she left her purse the night before?

  “Hang on, Brock. Just a minute. We’re all here. The guys have picked up, but Kelly’s here, too. No problem. We’ll put you on speakerphone.” He shook his head and held out the small device.

  “Well good morning, Miss Martin. I take it you slept well enough last night?”

  “Hi, Brock, yes, after our company left us, we were able to sleep just fine.” She eyed Colt’s cock and ran her tongue around her mouth, arching a brow. “Thanks for asking.”

  “All right, let’s get one thing straight, Miss Martin,” Brock said, his tone gruff. “You belong to me more than you belong to the men who apparently shared your bed last night. You are owned by the US-West Underground Unit and you are always on my time.”

  “Okay?”

  “What that means, Miss Martin, is this.” Brock took a deep breath. “Three hundred days out of the year, you have a direct line to my phone and your fellow operatives. When it rings rather than buzzes, it means you are expected to answer. I don’t care if you’re on the shitter. I don’t care if you’re in the shower. I do not give a damn if you are having the best orgasm of your life, when the phone rings, you answer. Your bedfellows obviously took the time. Why didn’t you?”

  She narrowed her gaze on Colt, who committed downright treason when he smirked. He obviously liked the fact that she’d been reprimanded.

  “I’m not sure where my phone is.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I’ll find it,” she assured him. “Hang on.” Deserting the bed in a rush, she left a roomful of whistles in her wake.

  Brock cursed again, and as she teetered down the hallway to the foyer, she heard him say, “Not a word about business until we’re assured her phone is somewhere on her person.”

  “Brock, trust me on this,” Crue said. “Her phone is not on her person.”

  “Figuratively speaking,” Brock said.

  “Mistakenly spoken,” someone said in the background. She was pretty sure the voice was Riley’s.

  Rummaging through rubble, she located her purse on the credenza. Retrieving her phone, she flipped open the case and asked, “How’s Veronica doing, Brock?”

  He grunted. �
�Fine. I spoke to—” He stopped abruptly in the middle of his sentence. “This isn’t a social call, Miss Martin.”

  She grinned as she reentered the bedroom. Social or not, even Brock Donovan and one of his moods couldn’t spoil her midday plans.

  “We ran a check on your uninvited guests last night,” Brock said. “Father Paul—the real Father Paul—is in Italy right now, visiting distant relatives. I spoke to him this morning. He will be in touch when he returns to Nevada, but he wanted me to assure you he didn’t have anything to do with this. We verified his story. It checks out.”

  “Gomez Gustavo Esparza’s family still has a lot of connections in Sicily. Are you sure this isn’t a connection we need to explore?” Gabe asked, throwing a pillow behind his head and relaxing against the headboard. “Will we meet any more of Esparza’s nephews in the near future?”

  He crossed his ankles and Kelly couldn’t help but lick her lips. Either he had a hard-on for business, or he awoke with good loving on his mind. As if he read her thoughts, Gabe winked and a shiver shot straight down her spine.

  “The late Gomez Gustavo Esparza and his successors are not your problem now. Sloane and his team are taking care of the matter.”

  “His successors were our problem last night,” Kemper said, sitting on the side of the bed. Opening the nightstand, he retrieved a dildo and motioned for Kelly.

  She shook her head and stood next to Colt. A flash of dominance settled in his eyes and he motioned for her again.

  Brock continued talking, stopping midsentence when Kemper slapped the dildo against his palms and pointed to Kelly once more.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  “We’re listening,” Kemper assured him, crooking his finger back and forth.

  “Good to know, Kemper, because I could’ve sworn I heard the familiar sound of a dildo slapping against flesh. You have plenty of time to play with your woman when I’m done with her and, Kelly, you’d be strongly advised to pay attention to me and ignore the rest of the team until I’m through with you.”