Love Under Two Bad Boys
Page 1

The Lusty, Texas Collection
Love Under Two Bad Boys
Lovers Marc Jessop and Jeremy Bishop return to Lusty after putting covert ops behind them. They meet April Bixby, a private investigator, when she’s working undercover as Nancy Drew, waitress, and on a mission to protect a soon-to-be-cousin by marriage from a greedy malcontent. One look at her and the men know she’s the one they’ve been waiting for.
April is drawn as she’s never been drawn before. She trusts as she’s trusted no other. Witnessing the love they have for each other just makes her admire and love them even more. She senses they’re both carrying deep wounds from distant and recent pasts. And that’s okay, because she’s been wounded by life, too.
Then someone tries to kill Marc. It will take all of them working together—with the help and love of the people of Lusty—to figure out who’s threatening the youngest brother of the Doctors Jessop, and to bring the villain to justice.
Genres: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Romantic Suspense, Western/Cowboys
Length: 67,530
LOVE UNDER TWO BAD BOYS
The Lusty, Texas Collection
Cara Covington

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
Love Under Two Bad Boys
Copyright © 2018 by Cara Covington
ISBN: 978-1-64243-408-8
First Publication: August 2018
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2018 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I remain grateful to my readers for their loyalty, for spending their hard-earned money on my books—for giving me that trust. They trust me to give them a story that will at least entertain them for a couple of hours and at most, will touch something within them. So many have contacted me over the years, and knowing that my words, my stories, give them pleasure is one of my greatest joys. Writers write so that readers will read. So thank you, readers, for reading.
I’m grateful for my readers group, the Lusty Ladies, for their ongoing friendship and making my days better. Your ongoing sense of humor, and your sense of community never fails to put a smile on my face.
Thanks go to beta reader Angie Buchanan Jones, for her friendship, her talent with banners and memes, and for her keen insights into my manuscripts. An aspiring author herself, I look forward to the day when I will be buying her books. I know they’ll be wonderful.
Thanks go to beta reader Sandy Ebel. Sandy, thank you for taking the time to read my manuscripts and offer your insights. I know that my stories are a little bit better because you do.
Last, but never least, I am grateful to the professional women and men of Siren-BookStrand publishing. Every single one of you have treated me with the utmost professionalism and respect. Devin, I am so glad you’re my editor! Thank you for your keen eye and unwaveringly high standards. Please, please, keep holding my feet to the fire. You make me a better writer. And thanks to Amanda Hilton. You changed my life when you said yes, and I will be forever grateful.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my husband, David. Now we’re supporting each other’s dreams and exploring an entire new realm together. Ain’t it grand?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Morgan Ashbury, also writing as Cara Covington, has been a writer since she was first able to pick up a pen. In the beginning, it was a hobby, a way to create a world of her own, and who could resist the allure of that? Then, as she grew and matured, life got in the way, as life often does. She got married and had three children, and worked in the field of accounting, for that was the practical thing to do, and the children did need to be fed. And all the time she was being practical, she would squirrel herself away on quiet Sunday afternoons and write.
Most children are raised knowing the Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule. Morgan’s children also learned the Paper Rule: Thou shalt not throw out any paper that has thy mother’s words upon it.
Believing in tradition, Morgan ensured that her children’s children learned this rule, too.
Life threw Morgan a curve when, in 2002, she underwent emergency triple bypass surgery. Second chances are to be cherished, and with the encouragement and support of her husband, Morgan decided to use hers to do what she’d always dreamed of doing—writing full-time.
Morgan has always loved writing romance. It is the one genre that can incorporate every other genre within its pulsating heart. Romance showcases all that humankind can aspire to be. And, she admits, she’s a sucker for a happy ending.
Morgan’s favorite hobbies are reading, cooking, and traveling—though she would rather you didn’t mention that last one to her husband. She has too much fun teasing him about having become a “Traveling Fool” of late.
Morgan lives in Southwestern Ontario, Canada, with a nine-pound Morkie dog who thinks he’s a German shepherd, and her husband of forty-six years, brand new retiree and aspiring author, David.
For all titles by Cara Covington, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/cara-covington
TABLE OF CONTENTS
LOVE UNDER TWO
BAD BOYS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
LOVE UNDER TWO
BAD BOYS
The Lusty, Texas Collection
CARA COVINGTON
Copyright © 2018
Prologue
Fall 2014, classified location, somewhere in Afghanistan
They stayed as silent and as still as the stone that lined the walls of the small cave.
The moment his ass hit the ground, Marc Jessop immediately focused on getting his heart rate down and his breathing slower. The last part of the trail to this cave had been a bit of a climb, and they hadn’t rested since they’d escaped the compound. Breathe slower, breathe quieter.
He listened, as he knew the man hiding in this small grotto with him listened. Utterly conscious of the passing of each second, he remained immobile. At the ten-minute mark, Marc looked at his companion. The late afternoon sun allowed just enough light to filter down on the cave entrance, so they could see each other’s faces.
> Marc raised one eyebrow, and the other man—Jeremy—sighed. Quietly and quickly, Marc moved past the entrance so he could hunker down beside his companion. They were alone, for the moment at least. Still, he kept his voice quiet.
“Any idea what the hell happened back there?” They’d been at different ends of the compound, each performing his part of the mission. Marc had been totally focused as he read over the scientific notes. He’d had only a few minutes to download all the files onto a jump drive. He’d just finished when the entire closed computer network self-destructed. That had been Jeremy’s work, and he’d been ruthlessly punctual in his execution.
This had been the last link in the chain of evidence. Marc now had in his possession the only copy of a formula for a chemical compound so deadly it had taken the life of the man who’d first created it.
“Other than all hell breaking loose? No, not really.” He closed his eyes, and Marc had the sense he was trying to pull his emotions back, to control them. Jeremy hadn’t been in the business as long as Marc. Marc remembered his own first few missions. The learning curve had been fucking horrible.
“Jenkins covered me and ordered me to head to rendezvous location Delta Three.” Then he met Marc’s gaze. “Which is where we are. Do you think any of them will make it here?”
He meant the team of marines who’d been their escorts—the men who’d gotten them into the compound and then stood guard as they’d executed their mission.
“They likely have an alternative escape route,” Marc said. “Remember, they didn’t parachute in with us. They were already here. As for this rendezvous point? I’m pretty sure this is meant just for the two of us.”
“Fuck, I hope they’re not all dead back there.”
“So do I.” He said the words, even though he was almost certain that at least some of them probably were just that. The mission of those good marines had been to keep the loyalists of that bastard, Kobin Assar, focused on an enemy in order to allow the high-value assets—him and Jeremy—to escape.
Jeremy sighed. “We’ve got nearly forty-eight hours until the extraction team arrives.”
“Forty-three hours and twenty minutes.” Marc shot him a grin. When Jeremy grudgingly smiled back, Marc felt as if he’d accomplished something good. “We weren’t followed once we left the town,” Marc said. “The hiking route provided plenty of cover, and I didn’t see any overhead drones in the area, either.”
They’d stolen a single motorcycle and covered fifteen of the twenty-five miles needed to get to their evac site. They’d disabled the bike on a goat-path of a road, making it appear they were heading west—toward the border.
Then they’d headed east, hiking the rest of the way to their destination—this wonderful and thankfully unoccupied cave in the mountains.
Jeremy took in their immediate surroundings. “Let’s examine our home away from home, here, shall we?”
“Sure. But we take our packs with us, and we stay together.”
“Not a very trusting sort, are you?”
Marc met Jeremy’s gaze. “I trust you.”
“I know. I trust you, too.”
Marc set his government-issued GPS to the spot he occupied—he’d heard horror stories of what some of the caves in this part of the world could be like. He didn’t fancy getting lost and hoping to find his way back to this spot. As it turned out, they didn’t get to go very far at all. This wasn’t one of those caves that morphed into a maze that led into infinity—at least it wasn’t anymore. The wall of broken boulders and debris they encountered about a hundred feet down the single tunnel told them no one would be sneaking up behind them as they hunkered down for the duration, either.
“Probably why this was the designated evac point,” Marc said. “Looks like the last time it was occupied by our guys they ensured it couldn’t be used as an escape route or an egress to this side of the mountain by the enemy.”
“I’ve heard nightmare stories of guys getting lost in these labyrinthine passages,” Jeremy said.
“Me, too.”
The entrance featured a small nook that would allow them to be out of sight if anyone happened to just peer inside the cave. It wasn’t the Carstairs London, but for the next just under forty-three hours, this was home.
Each of their packs held all they’d need to survive two days and nights—canteens, a few MREs, a survival blanket, and, because the temperature in the mountains could get damned cold at night, emergency hot packs—the same kind of hot packs hockey moms might slip into their mittens as they sat in the stands in ice-cold arenas to watch their kids skate.
“We passed that stream about a mile back,” Jeremy said. “Might head back sometime tomorrow to refill our canteens.”
Marc got as comfortable as he could, sitting on a rocky floor. “My personal preference would be to stay here. The longer we’re here, the farther any search teams might possibly have ventured toward us—if there are search teams. My canteen’s full. How’s yours?”
“Full. Okay, that makes sense. So, small sips for the duration.”
Marc was wearing a couple of layers of clothing. The desert camo jacket he had on covered a long-sleeved shirt, which, in turn, covered a simple tee. He stood and took off his two outer top layers. He put them together then tilted his head, his gaze on Jeremy.
“Good idea.”
“I figured we have the blankets if we get cold tonight. This might save our asses—literally, not figuratively—a little.”
Jeremy copied his actions, and they worked together to make as padded a seating area as they could.
“That’s a bit better,” Marc said.
“It is. Golly, I wish I had my tiddlywinks set with me.”
Marc snickered. He’d seen little signs of Jeremy’s offbeat sense of humor since they’d met last week. “I know the rule books all say we should keep to ourselves and not say much when we’re in country, us being in different agencies and all.”
“Some rules,” Jeremy said, “were made to be broken.”
“Especially here and now…and us.” They’d been introduced to each other by their first names only, and until they’d parachuted in the day before, had only spent a few training hours together.
“Yeah. Especially here and now and us.” He extended his hand. “Jeremy Bishop. Originally from Indiana.”
“Marc Jessop. Texas.” He’d wondered if Jeremy had recognized him as he’d recognized Jeremy. Like, recognizing like. Good to know he had. Marc told his libido to settle down. Let’s just see how it goes.
“Huh.” Jeremy scrutinized him. “Jessop.”
“You’ve heard the last name?”
“Well…” Jeremy looked like he wouldn’t say any more. Then he sighed. “I have a step-sister. I found out, oh, must have been about eight months ago now, that she was in danger thanks to dear old dad. I took a leave of absence and went searching for her. I found her a few months later in a small Texas town.” He shrugged. “There were a lot of people in that town with the last name of Jessop.”
Marc looked at him for a long moment. “And I bet there were Benedicts and Kendalls and Jessop-Kendalls, Parkers, and Joneses and Parker-Joneses, too.”
“Sounds like you’ve been to Lusty, Texas.”
“Been there? I was born there. You said your sister’s in Lusty?”
“Yeah. She’s married now, to a couple of former NFL quarterbacks, brothers named Benedict. Cord and Jackson Benedict, originally out of Montana.”
“Them, I haven’t met. But then, it’s been a while since I’ve been home.” He hadn’t set foot in Lusty for nearly six years.
“You didn’t even blink when I said she was married to two men.”
“Nope. Why would I? I happen to have two dads—named Adam and James Jessop. They’re the town doctors.”
“Huh.”
Marc wasn’t going to get a better opening. “You know, Jeremy, not all the ménage marriages in Lusty are heterosexual ones. One of my close friends growing up, Jorda
n Kendall, is married to a cousin, Tracy Jessop, and a man named Peter Alvarez. Haven’t met him, either. But Jordan has a husband and a wife.”
“I’ve met Peter—only he’s Peter Alvarez-Kendall now.”
Marc grinned. “Yeah, that would be him. Sometimes, we adopt hyphenated last names.” He knew from his mother’s letters that Peter was a DEA agent.
“Stand-up guy. I liked him. And, from what I saw, everyone—even Cord and Jackson’s grandmother—treated him like he was normal.”
“Grandma Kate.” Marc’s heart ached, both from missing his family and for his current companion. He wondered, then, if Jeremy had any idea how much he’d just revealed about himself.
“He is normal, Jeremy. And so are we.” Marc held his gaze then held out his hand. Cautiously, Jeremy took it.
The heat of contact seared him. Not just sexually, either. Sexually, of course, was a given. Truth to tell, they’d been attracted to each other since they’d met in that first briefing.
But Jeremy’s simple touch reached him, emotionally. It felt like forever since Marc had touched someone—someone who could matter. Judging from the look of longing on Jeremy’s face, he felt the same way.
“Move closer, Jeremy.”
It was too soon to even consider starting a physical relationship. They hadn’t known each other long enough. The situation they were in kind of accelerated things, but Marc had a sense that this was a moment he’d remember for the rest of his life.
He wanted to remember it as a solid first step, and not a miscue.
Jeremy edged subtly closer. Marc sighed then changed his position subtly so he could slip his arm around the other man.
“We’ll just sit here for a while. I’ll hold you, you hold me, and we’ll just rest in each other.” If Marc had anything to say about things, this was just a beginning. There were ways they could keep in touch once they got stateside.