Love Under Two Bad Boys

by Cara Covington

  Since Marc had been wearing a special tracking device, April wasn’t surprised that when they arrived, Adam said, “Ryder is following Marc and will continue on a quarter-mile or so down the road once he’s on the property, at which point he’ll turn around and wait for him to leave. Connor is already at the track, but unless there’s trouble, he’ll stay out of sight.”

  “Good. Our man needs to attack a few laps at speeds we’d all shudder at if we were to know.” Jeremy shook his head. “Though I shouldn’t say anything as I pretty much did the same yesterday on my hog.”

  “And he needs the illusion of being on his own,” April said. “He’ll know he’s not, but the illusion will be enough to give him a break.”

  Adam nodded. “As I recall, whenever he was bothered by something, Marc tended to be solitary when we were kids.”

  “He did,” Jake said. “His brothers say it comes from having no womb mate.” Jake shrugged then smiled. “I say it comes from just wanting a few moments to hear yourself think.”

  “Uh-oh. Did the boys have a rough night?” April asked.

  Adam and Jake traded looks. Then Adam nodded. “They had their booster shots yesterday, which meant they were beyond cranky last night. Poor guys cried half the night. All of us—including Ben—will likely hit bed early tonight, as soon as the twins are in theirs and asleep.”

  April realized she and her men had never discussed children. She wanted children. And not just one. Growing up an only could be lonely. Plus, seeing the families here in Lusty gave her a kind of envy she’d never experienced before. She looked over at Jeremy.

  “I guess we’ll find out all those things one day,” he said.

  “Yes, I guess we will.”

  April turned her attention back to the moment. Though she’d thought to, she decided not to ask if the group was shadowing her movements and Jeremy’s, too. She did know that Marc was the only person his brother had hidden a tiny little bit technology on.

  “You’re the second person in the last year I’ve done this to,” he’d said at the time. “So I know this thing works.”

  They never asked him who the other person was. She’d wondered if she and Jeremy would be asked to wear one, too. There was a legitimate reason for concern because Kardigan might try for one of them if he couldn’t reach Marc. If she was in charge of this operation, she’d ensure everyone close to her man was covered, if not with embedded tracking devices then at least with someone surveilling them.

  That right there is likely another reason our man is stressed out. Nothing would hurt Marc more than if something happened to one of them or to anyone in the family as a result of his being a target. April simply assumed they were being watched, too, and let the thought go.

  A computer printout on a clipboard turned out to be the roster for this operation, and she scanned it. Several of the people involved in this protection detail were scattered out and about, keeping their eyes and ears open and communicating with whoever was working the command center, set up at the airfield.

  Colt Evans filled that role at the moment. In another couple of hours, assignments would change as everyone currently on duty would be relieved either to rest or to switch off.

  The people of Lusty did have their version of circling the wagons down to a science. That was something that had snagged April’s attention and aroused her curiosity as they’d set up the trap designed to grab Douglas Vance a couple of months back.

  Now she was just damn grateful that it was so.

  Everyone on the team had been equipped with ear buds, not just her and Jeremy, but everyone who was involved in this op, and of course, that included Marc. Hers was in her right pants pocket and turned off until she needed it. The buds not only allowed them to hear Marc, but he’d be able to hear them, too. If anything happened, they’d all be in the loop. The tracker he wore gave more information than the bud. Not only did it relay GPS coordinates, but, presuming he wouldn’t be able to talk, the good guys would even know how many tangos—a military term they all preferred, which meant bad guys—were in his immediate vicinity.

  In April’s left pants pocket was the deputy sheriff’s badge Adam had given her. Jeremy was outfitted identically to her, right down to the not particularly concealed weapon they each carried. Jeremy had donned his shoulder holster before they’d left the house. Her Glock sat snug in her chest rig holster. Because she was licensed for both open carry and conceal-carry, this was the holster she preferred when she wanted people to know she was armed.

  April not only practiced regularly at the range firing the weapon, working on her accuracy, she also practiced drawing the gun.

  She had that particular move down to a fine science.

  Adam didn’t question their presence there at his office. From the conversations they’d had, both in the wake of the “dust-up” at the roadhouse and during the last several days, she knew Adam Kendall believed in being prepared. He believed in going over and over a plan, in honing it to a razor’s edge.

  He told her recently he’d only ever once gone into a situation on the fly—literally, he’d said—and that had nearly ended in his death and had been, in his words, “A lesson I guess I needed to learn.”

  April knew of the incident, of course. She’d heard from Ari how Carrie Benedict had been sexually assaulted at the age of eleven by a teen who’d been a foster brother. He’d been sent to prison as a result of a similar but unrelated incident and, upon his release, had come hunting for Carrie.

  By then a grown woman, Carrie had moved in with the men she eventually married, and her sister, Chloe, who’d recently arrived in Lusty at the time, was staying in her sister’s apartment. It had been Chloe who’d become that particular monster’s prisoner—and later, his executioner when Adam had burst in and she’d had to shoot the villain to save the sheriff.

  “A lot of crap happens in this deceptively peaceful-looking town,” she said.

  “Tell us about it,” Jake said. “We gave up fighting the trend a couple of years back.”

  “Better to just be as prepared as we can be,” Adam said. Standing with his hands on his hips, he looked at the map that was spread out on Matt’s desk. The deputy was one of the people on patrol, looking for anyone who didn’t belong, and tuned into the command post.

  “Yup,” Jake said. “If the Zombie Apocalypse ever comes about, we’re ready.”

  “Oh, yeah, we’ve got that covered.”

  April chuckled and then turned her attention to the map. The location of those assigned as lookouts was pinned on it, as were significant locations—their house, the roadhouse, Lusty Appetites, and of course, the facility just past the warehouse, where Marc was hopefully, by now, driving circles at Mach 1 and blowing off steam.

  “No one’s seen Kardigan since the FBI reported him gone,” Adam said. “Joe Grant made a couple of phone calls and then gave me an update about a half-hour ago. Speculation is he’s likely traveling on his own, incognito.”

  “His natural behavior, as far as I’ve been able to discern, is to be a grandstander.” Jeremy looked up from the map and nodded at Adam. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking—he had a bug-out plan in place.”

  “Bet you he’s the only congressman who did,” April said.

  “Yeah,” Jake agreed. “Having and using a bug-out plan is either a sign of being a prepper or a sign of guilt.”

  “I do believe the congressman is too attached to the spotlight and his expensive suits to be a prepper,” Adam said.

  Adam’s phone pinged, and he had it held against his ear in a heartbeat. “Kendall.” His eyes narrowed, his gaze turned to steel, and April reached for her ear bud at the same time Adam reached for his hat.

  “Let’s move. Marc is no longer alone.”

  * * * *

  Marc Jessop pretended he hadn’t noticed Ryder Magee tailing him out of Lusty. This was just one of those times when he needed to exercise a little mind-over-matter in order to grab some peace. I must have become rusty alr
eady if this little bit of a to-do has me this stressed out.

  But it wasn’t the prospect of stepping back into company mode that had Marc Jessop stressed. He knew the inevitability of facing a traitorous piece of shit like Philip Kardigan didn’t worry him. Oh, the man was likely dangerous, and Marc would never discount that danger, but he himself was a hell of a lot more dangerous than Kardigan could ever be—in a physical sense. Especially here in Lusty.

  No, what had Marc tied up in knots was the fear—no, the terror—that one of his mates, or a member of his family, would somehow be caught in the crossfire. Shit happened in life, sometimes with alarming accuracy.

  He knew this terror wasn’t rational. Both Jeremy and April could more than hold their own in any firefight, and there were no two people he trusted more to have his back. Nonetheless, he loved and loved deeply. And where he loved, he feared.

  Not logical, but there it was.

  Marc got out of the Tesla, keys in hand, and stretched. It was a good day for a hard, fast drive. He walked over to the shed—the building really resembled a small cottage—and used the key he’d been given to open the door, then deactivated the alarm. Once inside the heart of the room, he chose a helmet, the same one he’d worn the last time he’d been here with Robbie. Of course, thoughts of his brother brought back the gut-wrenching horror of that day and the pitiless knowledge that if he didn’t handle his car exactly right, he’d end up killing them both.

  That incident felt like it had happened a moment ago, rather than days before. Let this shit go, man. Get it out of your head so you can be ready for facing Kardigan. He knew better than to hang onto self-doubt and negative thinking. Life was a head game, and he’d better get his head straight right now.

  Marc emerged from the shed and realized, ready or not, the game was on. His stalker had found him. Philip Kardigan leaned against the front of Marc’s Tesla. Wearing jeans and a button shirt, a ball cap and sunglasses, he held a Beretta that appeared to be aimed at Marc, center mass. Kardigan peeled off the shades and perched them on his cap.

  “You’re a damn hard man to kill, apparently, Marc Jessop.” He scowled. “I told Kobin Assar to kill you. He’s next on my list. I don’t tolerate people going back on their word.”

  Got you on tape, you bastard. Marc hadn’t ever imagined it would be that easy. “I never considered survivability a negative quality to possess, Congressman Kardigan.”

  In Marc’s ear, a quiet voice whispered, “I have him in the crosshairs. The others are on their way.”

  Marc recognized Connor Talbot’s voice but didn’t nod, didn’t give any indication he’d heard. He wouldn’t need to. Connor knew the equipment worked, but more importantly, he was a pro. Something the man currently holding the Beretta M9 on him was not, judging by the way Kardigan’s hand trembled.

  “Well, for a man of my caliber, no, and it’s one quality I’ve cultivated. But for you? One of the thousands of unimportant foot soldiers our intelligence services eat up and spit out?” Kardigan smirked. “You’re cannon fodder, Jessop. Expendable, despite being nothing more than an egghead. And when you’re gone, they won’t even put a nameless star on the wall for you because you walked away from your responsibilities at the agency. Cannon fodder and a quitter.”

  “At least I’m not a traitor to my country.”

  “I’m no traitor,” Kardigan said. “I’ll work with anyone who can help me become president because I alone can save this nation. Assar is just a tool. As soon as I pull our troops out of there, his country will descend into complete anarchy, tribe against tribe until no one’s left to even turn off the lights. I’ll bring all our troops home from all around the globe and let the rest of the world go fuck itself. I’ve got other plans, too. It’s just a shame you’ll never live to see the Great Alliance—us, Russia, and China. The planet will be carved into three fat juicy pieces, and I’ll start out with an entire third to call my own. That’s where I’ll start, but you can be damn fucking sure, that’s not where I’ll finish.”

  Marc didn’t wait a moment more. He moved, flinging his helmet toward Kardigan while reaching for his weapon.

  It would have been a stupid maneuver if the congressman had been trained as Marc had been trained. But he hadn’t. His hand had trembled as he’d pointed his gun, and Marc figured he wasn’t used to holding it pointed at another human or firing it anywhere but on a practice range.

  It was much easier to order a man’s death than to actually commit the act oneself.

  The helmet hurtled toward Kardigan, and the man had taken his eyes off Marc and fixed them on that missile. The instant Marc had his Glock in hand, he fired, likely shattering his attacker’s gun hand—because that was what he’d aimed to do.

  Kardigan fell to the ground, screaming in pain. He clutched his hand to his chest and fired profanities at Marc.

  Marc focused on Kardigan, not in the least moved by the man’s cruses interspersed with whimpers of pain. Adam’s cruiser roared into the parking area, followed by April’s car, and Connor, on foot, carrying his weapon, was less than twenty feet away.

  Marc couldn’t resist a sudden urge and bent over the wounded traitor. Marc was pretty good with accents and took on a Hispanic one. “If you have to shoot, shoot. Don’t talk.”

  “Hey, that was a pretty good Tuco impersonation,” Connor said.

  Marc smiled. “What can I say? That was my favorite movie, back in the day.” The stress was melting, and sight of his lovers, running toward him, just helped it along all that much more. Adam was on their heels, and it was to him he addressed his next words.

  “I was a good citizen, Sheriff, and collected the trash.”

  “I see that you did,” Adam said. “Well done.” He pulled out his cell phone and called for the EMTs.

  Despite being wounded, Kardigan held on to his arrogance, as if all his plans hadn’t just been wrenched to a halt.

  Congressman Philip Kardigan met Marc’s gaze. “Trash? Trash! You bastard! You’ve shot me and insulted me. I’ll have you arrested for this! Do you have any idea who I am?”

  “I know exactly who and what you are,” Marc said. He slipped his arms around his lovers, kissed each one in turn, and then looked down at Kardigan. “You’re a monster.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “I’m so relieved that’s over.” The door had no sooner closed behind them than April reached for both of her men. Her men responded by gathering her and each other in, and for a long, sweet moment, they simply wallowed in their embrace.

  She held on tight, breathing them in. Resting her head for just a moment on Jeremy’s chest, she gave him an extra little hug.

  A lot is over, but not all. No, not quite all. Two monsters have been defeated, but one is left. Jeremy’s monster had yet to be acknowledged, but it would be, and very, very soon. At the moment they were sitting at the famous two-out-of-three. The man posing an immediate threat to one of her lovers had been arrested and, therefore, neutralized. For her part, she had finally remembered all that had happened to her when she’d been kidnapped. Simply knowing gave her a kind of closure she hadn’t known she was missing until she had it. Knowing had neutralized the power of the monster lurking in the dark corners of her mind.

  But whereas the song said that two out of three wasn’t bad, to her it was unacceptable. They needed three out of three, and by damn, they’d have that today if she had anything to say about it. She’d been thinking about Jeremy’s predicament for a long time. Of course, he didn’t think he had a predicament, but she and Marc knew better. He’d accepted that his monster would forever have him in its thrall, but they knew better than that, too.

  After several long, loving minutes, April sighed. They eased their hold of her, and she was able to step back, just enough to easily see both their faces. She still held them, of course, because…well, because she could.

  “You’re not the only one who’s glad that’s over,” Marc said. “I just kept worrying that one of you, or someone else in
the family, was going to get caught in the middle of this fiasco, because of me.”

  “Now, that just pisses me off.” As a segue, Marc’s misplaced guilt was damn near perfect.

  “What pisses you off?” Marc asked.

  “That ‘it’s-all-my-fault’ attitude. Let’s be clear on this, shall we? If anyone had been hurt because of that monster Kardigan’s personal vendetta against you, it would only have been Kardigan’s fault. Not yours. Never yours.”

  “Our woman’s right,” Jeremy said.

  Perfect. April turned her gaze on Jeremy. “And the fact that monster Thad Bishop assaulted you was no one’s fault but his, as well. Not yours. Never yours.”

  She felt Jeremy go perfectly still. Ah, he was all for looking at things with twenty-twenty vision when it came to others.

  She looked at Marc.

  “Our woman’s right,” Marc said.

  “No, that was different.”

  “How so?” She asked.

  “It just was, okay? You don’t know. You just don’t.” Jeremy became agitated and would have pulled away, but they both—she and Marc—held tight.

  “I know all I need to know, darling. You were an innocent child, and he was a monster.”

  “Not so fucking innocent!” Jeremy’s words exploded out of him. “Not so innocent. I was attracted to males, even then. Even when I was a kid, I knew that about myself. And as I got older, I didn’t fantasize about breasts and pussies, I fantasized about cocks, okay? So, yeah, not so fucking innocent!”

  April met his gaze. He looked away, but not before she’d seen the shame. This was what Marc had hinted at, and now she understood it.

  “All right. So, have you tried speaking to Ari about this? Maybe she has some coping tools for dealing with her guilt that can help you with yours.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jeremy’s mind was stuck on self-blame. Marc’s eyes widened, and she thought he might see where she was going.

  “Well, I’m sure as a young, twelve-year-old girl, Ari might have been thinking about males the same way you were. She might have imagined finding her prince charming, falling in love, and because I remember being twelve, she was likely thinking about sex, too. No wonder your father—her step-dad—raped her. She clearly must have been asking for it. It clearly must have been her fault because she was heterosexual, just as what happened to you was your fault because you’re not.”