by Tony Ramagos
“I didn’t come to Pleasure looking to engage in an activity to rival the town’s name, Darryl. I’m here to do a job.”
“There’s no reason you can’t do both while you’re in town, sweetheart.”
Fuck! Darryl ground his teeth on the word as Seth walked inside with Colt at his heels. It had been years since either of them had come to blows about anything, and even then, it had been over minor bullshit. But when it came to Tamara, Darryl had been feeling it had been building for a long time. He figured two things had been keeping it from happening. The first was he doubted he could take on both his brothers at once and come out the victor. The second was, even though he was the odd man out of the three of them when it came to his monogamous taste for women, the three of them were thicker than mud in every other circumstance. No matter how badly he wanted to punch both their lights out, he loved them too much to let any woman, even Tamara, come that far between them.
Darryl shifted his gaze back to Tamara. She’d closed her eyes, and as they fluttered open once more, he knew exactly why she wouldn’t submit to him. He wasn’t the only Barlow brother she wanted. What he wasn’t sure of was whether she wanted Seth and Colt more or if, in the privacy of her own mind, she fantasized about having all three of them.
“You two really have lousy timing,” he told his brothers as he retraced the steps that had brought him from the door to stand in front of the stage.
“Where you headed, little brother?” Colt asked as Darryl passed him.
“To look for trashcans.”
And, with any luck, maybe along the way he’d find himself transported to a realm where ménages didn’t exist.
* * * *
Tamara watched Darryl walk out the door. If he had turned around, he would’ve no doubt caught her staring at his ass because that was where her attention settled. She should’ve been relieved by his departure. That moment when he’d told her—no, when he’d ordered her—to show him what she was wearing beneath her turnout gear had nearly been her undoing. She’d known he was a Dom, all three of them were, but it was the first time any of them had attempted to take control of her.
God, for a moment, she’d actually thought about doing it. She’d thought about obeying him, unfastening the buckles and buttons of her turnout gear, and showing him what he’d wanted to see. Would he have been amused by the fact that she had on a full suit of clothes under the heavy jacket and bulky bunker pants? Would he have demanded she take them off, too? Would she have obeyed him a second time?
Outside, an engine purred to life. It revved a few times, and then tires squealed out of the parking lot.
“He’s going to have a hell of time fitting more than one trashcan in the passenger seat of that Vette he drives,” Seth commented, amusement lacing his thick Southern drawl.
Tamara should’ve steadied herself before she gave the oldest Barlow brothers her full attention. She didn’t think to do it fast enough. Her gaze landed on Seth first, and she felt her balance slip. A black Stetson rode low on his head, concealing the short, dark hair she knew was beneath. His eyes were just as dark and set in a face that was way too damn handsome for anyone’s good.
Especially hers.
“It’s good to see you, Tamara.”
God, the way he said her name in that voice as thick and smooth as molasses had erotic longing raining fiery embers through her body. She watched his eyes warm to a simmer of controlled promises and pleasures that made her clit pulse.
Unable to continue to hold his gaze, needing at least a nanosecond or two to gather her senses before she did something stupid like beg him to fuck her right where she stood, she dropped her attention to the strong line of his jaw. If she’d stopped there, she might have been okay. Instead, her gaze continued its downward slide. He was dressed the same as he’d been every time she’d seen him, in a crisp dress shirt that strained over his broad shoulders and ripped torso, jeans that looked like they’d just come off the department store rack and molded a superior package that made her head spin, and spit-shined black cowboy boots.
“I appreciate you getting here so quickly.”
Tamara jerked her gaze back to his, licked her lips, and watched his attention follow the path of her tongue. Christ on a pogo stick! After all the times in the past their paths had crossed, she should’ve been used to the intense reactions her body insisted on having around this man by now. Shouldn’t she?
You haven’t gotten used to Darryl. Why should Seth be any different?
Because, of the three brothers, Seth was the one with the reputation of being the most dominant, controlling to the point that he took over every aspect of his submissive’s life. That was what she was most afraid of when it came to giving in to him. It wasn’t so much the extent of what he might do behind closed doors, but what he would attempt to do in public or how much he would try to shield her from the world. She might give up her body, she might even let a man into her heart, but she would never give up her career or allow a man to break down her inner strength.
“You’re welcome.” It took a whole lot of effort and a long reach inside herself to find her equilibrium again, but somehow she managed. “Darryl’s not going to buy trashcans. He going to look for who sells wire-meshed ones in town and, if he’s lucky, find out who has bought one recently.”
“Are you saying this fire was started in a damn trashcan?”
For the second time in damn near as many minutes, Tamara felt her world tilt on its axis as Colt’s question drew her attention to him. While Darryl could’ve been mistaken as a family cousin rather than the youngest Barlow brother, there was absolutely no denying the fact that these two were siblings. Colt was just as extraordinarily handsome as Seth. A Stetson sat low on Colt’s forehead, too, though his was a dark brown that came close to matching the color of the strands of hair that poked from beneath to tease the collar of his shirt. His eyes were the same dark brown as Seth’s, too, though the intensity in Colt’s was marginally softer. He was dressed in a plaid Western shirt that probably would’ve looked ridiculous on most men. On him, it looked positively stupendous. His jeans looked a little more worn than Seth’s, but not by much, and rode low on his narrow hips, lovingly framed his groin, and hugged his long legs. Brown cowboy boots finished the six-foot package wrapped in pure sex appeal.
Focusing on the job she’d come to this town to do was her only hope of keeping her universe from exploding right now. She forced herself to do just that as her mind tripped and stumbled and finally latched onto the question Colt had just asked.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, and it was skillfully done at that.” Despite the openings in the wire-mesh that allowed more oxygen to fuel the fire set inside the can, the way the arsonist had organized the contents had kept the flames controlled long enough for him, or her, to ignite the other two points of origin.
“Then this was the work of a professional?”
Tamara shook her head at Seth’s question. “I could’ve been an amateur. With the World Wide Web at everyone’s fingertips these days, getting information on how to properly set any kind of fire isn’t hard to come by.”
“Well, that’s helpful,” Colt muttered dryly.
“I’ll ask both of you the same thing I asked Darryl. Is there anyone you can think of who would want to torch this place? A club member, former employee, or maybe a town resident that wanted you out of business?”
Both men shook their heads, but it was Seth who answered. “We don’t have an enemy we know of in this town, sweetheart.”
“At least not one that’s ever given us a clue he or she is an enemy,” Colt added.
“What about a girlfriend?”
“It’s been a long time since we’ve had a girlfriend,” Seth told her.
Tamara knew damn well it likely hadn’t been that long since the two of them had been with a woman though. “Okay.” What did they call them? She hesitated as she searched her brain for the terms she wanted to use. “How about a pet or a
willing submissive?”
Colt looked impressed. “Did Darryl teach you about pets and willing subs?”
Tamara planted her fisted hands on her hips and glared at him. “I have a brain, Colt. I may not have ever stepped foot in this place, or any other club like it, but I watch television, and I read books.”
Seth’s lips kicked into a devilish grin as he started toward her. “Are you telling us you watch BDSM porn and read erotic novels?”
Tamara felt her cheeks heat. Jesus! She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually blushed. “Cut it out, Seth. I’m being serious.”
“So are we, sweet thing,” Colt told her as both men closed the distance between them.
They had done it to her before, managed to get her talking and catch her off guard long enough to situate her between them. She’d managed to quickly escape the last time, thankfully, due to being summoned by her boss across the room at a charity function for the fire service. McGregor wasn’t here today to save her, and when Seth stopped in front of her and locked one strong arm around her waist and Colt moved in behind her and put his hands on her sides above Seth’s arm, she had nowhere to go.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve had a pet or willing sub, too,” Seth told her.
The warmth of Colt’s breath fanned the fine hairs on her lobe when he dipped his head and angled it beneath the bill of her helmet to speak in her ear. “Do you want to know why that is?”
Stay focused. Stay focused. Stay focused!
The trouble came from the fact that she was focused, but on things she absolutely didn’t need to be concentrating on. Things like the way Seth’s woodsy cologne smelled and the minty scent of Colt’s breath and the strength of both men’s arms and hands that had created a cage around her. Things like the heat that reverberated off both of them, hot enough that she was able to feel it through the fire-protective gear and her clothes beneath. Things like the way their rock-solid bodies penned her more pliant flesh between them.
“This could have been a random act,” she finally said, ignoring Colt’s question. “But given the severity and intensity of this fire, if it was, it could be a sign that there will be more fires to follow.” It could be the start of a serial arsonist who got his jollies off watching places burn.
“This…” Seth tightened his hold around her waist. “You being here with me and Colt isn’t a random act, and seeing as how the fire only gets hotter each time, you should be taking it as a sign that it’s not going to be put out as easily as you keep thinking it will.”
“I’m talking about the fire that has turned your business establishment into a pile of rubble, Seth. That’s the reason you called and had McGregor send me to town, isn’t it?”
“It’s one of the reasons.”
“Mixing business with pleasure isn’t something I do.”
“We’re masters at it,” Colt told her and then added, “among other things.”
“And I’m a master at solving arson cases,” she countered. She wouldn’t really call herself a master, but it worked well in the current conversation, and she was damn good at her job. “Now, both of you need to let me go so I can get back to work finding out the who, why, and how someone did this to your business.”
* * * *
Seth wanted those answers as badly as he wanted to keep holding her. He and his brothers had built the Cowboy’s Den from the ground up. Well, okay, they’d had the place built from the ground up. Regardless, they’d taken the Den from a fledgling, might-make-it-might-not business to one of the most respected, elite, and classiest BDSM clubs in the south.
And someone had destroyed all of it in a single night of vandalism.
Reluctantly, he eased his arm from around Tamara’s slender waist and immediately felt the loss of the contact. He’d stopped damning himself long ago about his weakness for this woman. She was only one in a slew of who knew how many he’d met since puberty that he hadn’t yet managed to get out of his head. He was thirty-six years old, and damn if she hadn’t gotten her claws into him deep enough to stick. How she’d pulled it off without the first bit of true sexual contact was beyond him, but there it was. He briefly met Colt’s gaze, knowing his brother was in just as deep as he was, and watched as the man took a step back from her, giving her room to move from between them. She didn’t hesitate a nanosecond in taking it, sidestepping her way to full freedom.
Full freedom for now. Though he’d let her go, he didn’t have the first intention of letting her leave town without knowing she finally and completely belonged to him and Colt. Darryl was a whole different rodeo.
Tamara turned her back on them. Colt met Seth’s gaze again and put voice to the question that popped into his mind at the thought of their youngest brother.
“We walked in on something between you and Darryl. Do we own you an apology for interrupting, sweet thing?”
Seth heard her soft chuckle and saw her shake her head, but she didn’t turn it to look at either of them.
“Darryl didn’t get any further than the two of you did just now.”
That was good to know, though Seth felt a twinge of guilt for the relief that moved through him. Life would be much simpler if their youngest brother played by the damn near unanimous unspoken, but widely accepted, way of relationships in Pleasure, Tennessee. He and Colt had sworn long ago they would leave their little brother to his own life and troubles. Darryl had fallen in love more times than Seth and Colt could count on their fingers and toes combined and had gotten his heart broken just as much.
What Darryl felt for Tamara was different. Seth couldn’t say how he knew that, he couldn’t even say he liked knowing it, but he did. He and Colt had even discussed backing off in the pursuit to claim Tamara. They’d had to nix the idea when they’d admitted to themselves, as well as each other, that they simply couldn’t allow their brother to have the woman they wanted, too, all to himself.
“Do you have pictures of what the rooms looked like before the fire?”
Seth left answering that question to Colt. When it came to the Cowboy’s den, he, Colt, and Darryl were partners. His focus stayed on the public restaurant in the front, and Colt saw to the memberships and activities of the BDSM club in the back. As for Darryl, he tended to be more of a silent partner and partaker of the fun, which was how he’d gotten his heart broken more times than not when he’d ended up falling for one of the “pets” Colt hired.
“Before we shut the place down and started remodeling, yeah.”
That got Colt a look from Tamara. “You fully shut down business? Even in the restaurant? How long ago?”
Seth exchanged a look with Colt and answered, “About a week and a half. Two come Monday.”
“Who has had access since you shut down?”
Seth dragged a hand down his face as he mentally went through the list of people they’d hired to do the remodeling. He waited as Tamara spun and returned to the stage to grab the clipboard she’d set there before he started rattling off names. “Melvin Austin and his crew. He’s the electrician who checked out all the wiring, old and new.”
“Buster Johnson did the plumbing,” Colt chimed in.
Seth nodded. “And Wyatt Mason has been overseeing the bulk of the project when one of us hasn’t been around.”
They gave her several more names, all local contractors they had brought in to do one job or another.
“Is there anyone else?” she asked when they fell silent.
Seth exchanged another look with Colt and sighed. Neither of them wanted to tell her for the simple reason that they both knew exactly where she would go with it. Still, if they wanted to find out who was behind torching the Den, he knew they couldn’t leave anyone out.
“The boys from Rescue Ranch. They’ve been in here since we started the renovations doing most of the grunt work.”
“Rescue Ranch,” Tamara repeated slowly. “That’s the place on the outskirts of town that takes in wayward teenagers, isn’t it?”
As he’d suspected, Seth could all but see her mind already reeling in her beautiful head. “It is, but, Tamara, I’m telling you it couldn’t have been one of them.”
One blondish-brown brow inched up over a hazel eye shining with suspicion. “Because they all have alibies for the time in question last night?”
Fuck! Seth didn’t know. To his knowledge, the only people who had been questioned were those who had been present in the crowd that had gathered outside the place when it had been on fire at two something in the morning. He knew none of the boys had been present then, but had they been on the ranch like they should’ve been?
“I’ll head out there when we finish here, talk with Horace and May Hoskins, and find out.”
“I’d like to go with you.”
Seth considered her request for a moment. Rescue Ranch had been founded by Horace, his brother Hank, and their wife, May. May hadn’t been able to carry a child of her own but had a heart bigger than the size of the United States. When two boys, who were now grown, broke into their home, instead of calling the local sheriff on the kids, upon discovering they were from criminal parents who didn’t give a shit about them, the Hoskins triad had petitioned the court for custody, won, and Rescue Ranch was born. The Hoskins had continued in the efforts to rescue boys from broken or abusive homes, or from parents who simply didn’t want the child they’d born, saved them from the lives of crime they’d settled into, and given them a loving home. They took in ten boys at a time. Seth and his brothers had grown up with the first group in Pleasure, and the Hoskins triad had taken in a new ten after that. Those ten were the boys growing up on the ranch now, and Seth had been the one to bring one of those boys to Horace Hoskins.
“Promise me you will treat them like young men and not criminals.”
Though Seth purposely made his words more of a statement than a question, Tamara nodded and said, “I promise, Seth. If they’ve been doing work for you, they may know something. They may have seen something. I’m not instantly tagging them with the responsibility of this fire because of their shady backgrounds.”
