Love Under Three Valentinos [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  “You have a point.” She laid her head back on Paul and watched the expressions chasing across her brother’s face as he’d taken in their banter.

  He didn’t say another word, just crossed his arms and glowered at them.

  “Okay, the more I think of it, the more I’m thinking you’re probably right. Damn, you’ve pissed off two bad-ass criminals at the same time?”

  “I just scoop the fugitives. Their emotional reaction to my actions is not my responsibility.” She took the tablet back from Paul and finished perusing the photos. “As far as I can tell, nothing’s missing from either my apartment or my office. They might have stolen a file, but it wouldn’t matter if they did.”

  “Your printers didn’t have computers attached to them, not at either location.”

  “No, I use a laptop that I carry with me. It was locked in my car. Unless…” She turned to Wesley.

  “No, your vehicle hadn’t been broken into, that I could see. And I do recall glimpsing your laptop under the front passenger seat.”

  Just then, she heard what sounded like a big truck gearing down.

  “Speaking of which, I believe your chariot has arrived,” Wesley said.

  “You didn’t bring my car with you when you came home earlier?”

  “Nope. Operating on an abundance of caution—or not since I was actually followed—we arranged to have your SUV delivered via transport truck,” Wes said.

  “Two trucks, in fact, as arranged for by Mel Richardson, a security consultant the families use. Wes loaded your SUV into one truck. That driver went on a journey toward Sacramento and then transferred your vehicle into a second, different kind of truck to bring it here.” Paul met her gaze as he spoke.

  “We wanted it delivered in the dark so we could put it right into one of the garages,” Lucas said. “Detective Banister has nothing on us when it comes to being paranoid, babe.”

  Banister pointed to his tablet. “Could very well be it’s not paranoia. We’ll have to wait and see.”

  Her brother huffed out a breath and then relaxed his stance. “Maybe you are better off here. What are you guys, government agents? You seem to have all the bases covered.”

  “Government agents? Please, they so think inside the box,” Paul said.

  “We’re a good leg up on any of them,” Wesley said.

  “Bet your ass.” Lucas had gotten to his feet and faced Eric. “We’re screenwriters.”

  Kat couldn’t hold back her giggle, and she didn’t even care how much it hurt to laugh.

  “Why don’t y’all go out and get Kat’s car unloaded?” Paul asked. “And since we have two cops here, it should go without a hitch.”

  “All right. Then we’ll head out,” Travis said. He looked at Kat. “I’ll let you know if we learn anything from the crime-scene boys. I’ve also alerted my little web of snitches. So feelers are out, looking for your assailants. If we nab them, I’ll let you know that, too.”

  Kat sighed as she watched the four men head out the front door. At the last minute, Eric turned around.

  “Call the folks, Kat. Do it very soon because that’s what I’m going to do when I get home.”

  The door closed, and she and Paul were left in silence. The heat of him seeping into her and the scent of him surrounding her made her feel safe, secure, and cherished.

  “That went well. I think we made a good impression on your brother.”

  Kat smiled. “Please don’t make me laugh. It hurts.” She’d napped earlier, but her energy was waning.

  “Sorry, Kitty-Kat. I can literally feel the weariness overtaking you.”

  “Yeah. I really hope I get some strength back soon. I hate feeling like this.”

  “Be kinder to yourself. It hasn’t been even twenty-four hours. If you like, as soon as the guys come back in, we’ll tuck you in for the night.”

  “I would like that.” For a woman used to taking care of herself, she was really enjoying being coddled and cared for. Must be residual shock from the attack.

  Paul nuzzled her ear. “Two things need to occur before that happens.”

  “Mmm.” Shivers trailing along her neck, down her arms, and all over her body made her think that maybe she wasn’t as wiped out as she thought. “That sounds really promising.”

  “Mmm hmm. First, you need to call your parents. And second, you will be taking some pain pills before you go to sleep. And we’ll wake you a couple times through the night, just like the doctors asked us to.”

  She figured she had to have it pretty bad if he could make doing what she really didn’t want to do sound sexy.

  “I think my cell phone is nearly dead, and I only have the car charger for it.”

  Paul moved, gently, and then held his cell phone in front of her. “Here. Use mine. You call them, and I’ll hold you.”

  Kat sighed. It was the best offer she was going to get, and the only one she really wanted.

  * * * *

  He was very good at waiting.

  When he’d been a soldier, he’d had to wait for hours in the most precarious of positions. He’d done it without complaint because the military had been his salvation, and no sacrifice had been too high a price to pay in return.

  And then they’d expelled him, claiming that his years of service, of being a sniper on their behalf, had made him too unstable to keep.

  From that moment on, his only loyalty, and his only service, was to himself.

  Thanks to all the skills he’d been taught by Uncle Sam, he’d been able to translate his military service into a business for the private sector.

  He had only two rules, and if he’d been as “unstable” as the military had claimed, he doubted very much that he would even have those.

  He would never, ever, take a job that would kill a child. And he wouldn’t kill true innocents.

  So far, it hadn’t been an issue. He’d carried out a number of jobs with professional precision and had a healthy bank account in the Cayman Islands to prove it.

  He brought his attention back to the matter at hand. His current target, according to his contact, was a player working both sides of the street. On the one hand, she appeared to be connected to the legal system, apprehending fugitives too stupid to stay hidden. On the other, she used her position to line her own pockets, to trade on her badge for profit.

  Hardly the definition of an innocent.

  She wouldn’t be the first woman he’d killed, although she would be the first in a while. That didn’t matter. All that mattered was the bottom line. This time, not as rich a payday as others. Twenty thousand down, twenty on completion. It had been a slow year so far. He’d taken the job as much for the practice as the money.

  Hiram Mooney shrugged off the sense of unease that kept circling round, raising the hair on the back of his neck. The man who’d offered him the job—just the sound of his voice had triggered his internal alarms. Pompous ass. Trying to ingratiate himself, as if they were on the same level. Traitorous, too, as the man had hinted that while the contact he’d get the details from would provide the where and when, he was not to be trusted. And, if the moneyman was pleased with Mooney’s efforts, he might earn himself a second target—the contact.

  Mooney hadn’t survived as long as he had by being a trusting fool. Because he also got bad vibes from the contact, he’d taken some time that very morning and done a bit of digging. Usually he didn’t care, but this time, he really needed to know who he was working for and who his contact was.

  Using a rifle wasn’t the only thing the military had taught him how to do well.

  He tucked the information he’d gleaned away and focused on the job at hand. He pulled his car off the road, taking a small laneway that was only a quarter-mile past his current target, taking the time to position the vehicle behind some bushes and pointed in the direction he’d need for a fast getaway. In minutes, his professional gear in hand, he began to hike back toward the house.

  He wasn’t as familiar with Malibu Canyon as h
e was other areas of the state. GPS on his way to his target had given him a basic lay of the land. He knew the lane where he’d parked his car didn’t lead anywhere and that there were no nosy neighbors close by to raise an alarm—or to somehow see him.

  He also knew that kids used these hills to party and likely for a target practice range, too. As planning went, this job was a tight as any other on short notice.

  Hiram Mooney was satisfied with his preparations and his precautions.

  It took him only a few minutes to get where he needed to be. “Place is lit up like a damn Christmas tree.” He set his gear down and took out his binoculars. His contact had called just a half-hour before with the location of the target. He’d also provided a picture of her. Mooney lifted his binoculars and watched. Focusing, he was able to confirm he was in the right place. But there were too many people wandering about to take the shot right away. Two of them were cops. They wore the look.

  But the house had a lot of windows, none of which had been adorned with drapes. He didn’t know how many people lived at this address. The quick search he’d conducted had come up as the place being registered to some dummy corporation. Probably some Hollywood mover and shaker with a need to hide that information.

  The country was rife with paranoia.

  So he’d sit, and wait, and see. Sooner or later, the people in the lit-up house below would have to go to bed.

  Yes, he was very good at waiting. Mooney assembled his rifle and set his night vision goggles and it within easy reach.

  Then he pulled the night as close as his equipment and then he watched, and he waited.

  Chapter 9

  Kat looked achingly tiny in that very large bed.

  Lucas stood back from the door, peeking in, loath to wake her but knowing he needed to, if only for a moment.

  All three of them had wanted to spend the night in that big bed with her. Denying themselves that pleasure had been a lot more difficult than they’d thought it would be.

  Kat had wanted them to join her, to snuggle her in, the way they had when she’d napped in the late afternoon before supper. It had taken the truth, spoken plainly, to get her to agree to sleep on her own—at least for tonight.

  Awake, they could control their desire for her. Not a one of them had slept while she’d napped earlier. But asleep? Sensing her soft curves moving against them, regardless of the clothing between them, while their dreams could spin a fantasy that would gradually become reality? Not a chance in hell they could keep their hands, or their cocks, to themselves.

  “Hey.” He squatted by the edge of the bed and reached out, his hand stroking her arm. She was on her back, far enough away from the edge of the bed to leave enough room on this side of her that Lucas could oh so easily crawl in and envelop her. Tempting, very, very tempting.

  She moaned as she wakened, a moan born of pain and not sexual arousal. Just that easily, Lucas was able to put the beast back into its cage and focus on his woman.

  “Can you wake up for just a moment, babe? Then you can go back to sleep, I promise.” He really wanted to look into her eyes. The moon was visible, but hampered by clouds. More natural light spilled into the room from the large window than one would have in the city. That was one of the things they liked best about their home in Malibu Canyon. No neighbors too close by and enough land in the deed to guarantee it would always be so. But this night, there wasn’t enough light to really see her face the way he needed to.

  “Come on, sleepy head, wake up.”

  “Okay, okay.” Her words weren’t slurred. That was the first good sign. She sighed, opened her eyes, and turned her head toward him. “Lucas, come to bed, and bring your brothers with you. Please.”

  Still squatting, he delayed answering her, turning on the small bedside lamp. “A couple more days, and you won’t be able to keep us out of your bed, Kat. Now, come over here so I can give you a kiss.” He wanted to see if the small movements she needed to make to do that caused her pain and, if so, how much. Just waking up, she wouldn’t be able to hide that from him.

  “You’re so hard.”

  He couldn’t hold back a frustrated chuckle. “You don’t know the half of it, babe.”

  She smiled and turned onto her side, facing him.

  Glass shattered. Feathers flew. Kat screamed.

  Lucas’s heart damn near stopped even as he reached out, grabbed her, and pulled her from the bed. He spun with her in his arms, placing his body between her and the window.

  “Kat!” Paul’s shout from down the hall, added to Wesley’s curse and the sound of their feet hitting the floor, just added to Lucas’s fear.

  “Don’t come in! Sniper!” He reached out and yanked the plug on the small bedside light. And then he gathered Kat closer in his arms and, mentally saying a very fast and very fervent prayer, crab-walked the few feet to the door and safety.

  No other gunshots followed the first, and he sighed with relief as they cleared the bedroom and moved into the hall.

  Then he was upright, setting her on her feet and holding her at arm’s length. His gaze raked her, terror filling his heart. Beside him, Paul did the same. He couldn’t forget that she’d screamed, and he didn’t know if she’d been shot or not.

  “I’m okay. He missed me.” Kat was shaking, her teeth chattering.

  Paul ran the few feet back to his room, returning with a blanket. “Here.” He wrapped it around her from behind, hugging her in the process.

  Lucas realized what had kept his youngest brother from joining them when Wes burst into the hall from his room, his Glock 9mm in hand.

  Kat turned toward him, needing, Lucas knew, to see him, touch him, too. She needed to see each of them to know they were all safe with, he imagined, the same urgency they needed to see and touch her.

  Our Kat might like to think of herself as a solitary woman, but she’s already connected to us all.

  “No, Wes, don’t go out there!”

  “Hush, Angel, no, don’t worry, I won’t. This is just so we’ve got some protection while we wait inside for the cavalry.”

  “He’s the best shot of the three of us, but we’ve all got guns.” Paul had his cell phone in hand and wasted no time calling for help. He headed to his bedroom as he spoke on his cell and emerged again, moments later, with his own gun in hand.

  “Travis is contacting the LA County Sheriff’s office. They’ll come in, sirens screaming.”

  “My weapons are in the car,” Kat said, nodding at the hardware his brothers carried. “I’ve a handgun and a rifle.”

  “I think we’re okay, babe. The doors are locked. We don’t have a panic room here.” Lucas drew her into his arms, hoping the heat of his embrace would soothe her.

  “Let’s go sit in the library,” Paul said. “We’ll move the love seat so it won’t be in direct line of any of the windows.”

  His brothers went ahead and did just that. Lucas brought Kat into the room and settled her on the small sofa. She was still shaking so he sat beside her and drew her into his arms.

  “I need to get away from you three. Someone is seriously after me. I will not have the three of you in danger because of me.”

  “It’s all right to feel that way,” Lucas said. “You’re in shock.”

  “If we thought you meant it, we’d have to turn you over our knees,” Paul said.

  “Because you leaving us to keep us safe, Angel, just is not going to happen.”

  Lucas saw the mutiny in Kat’s eyes and knew she was mustering her arguments. And then the sound of police sirens reached them, giving them all a reprieve.

  * * * *

  Hiram Mooney held on to his composure with both hands. There’d be time to vent later. Right now, he had to get his ass to safety. He barely let himself think about what had just happened. That, too, could come later.

  As soon as he fired and knew he’d missed, he began to break down his gun. There was no sense whatsoever trying for a second shot.

  Worst-case scenario fo
r him, he had five minutes to get far enough gone before the local cops swarmed the place.

  He moved with precision, quickly, but not rushing. He kept track of the time in his head, something he’d always been able to do. At two minutes, he was back at his car. He took the time to stow his gun and goggles in the trunk. He covered the gun case with his luggage, shut the trunk, and got behind the wheel. Starting the car, he turned off the headlights. He’d had to wire in the old-fashioned convenience himself, but he never drove a car that couldn’t go dark. At three minutes, he pulled out onto the road, and rather than heading back the way he’d come, he continued on, taking the next turn that would lead him toward the ocean.

  At four minutes, he heard the sirens.

  He looked in his rearview mirror in time to see flashing lights speeding down the road, past this turn-off he’d just taken. The cops were oblivious to his presence.

  It would take them a while to find his shooting perch. Of course, he hadn’t left them any evidence. No empty chewing gum wrappers or cigarette stubs to give them his DNA. He’d done only one thing while he’d been sitting amidst the boulders and grass—and that was to wait.

  As he approached the next road, he turned on his headlights. Then he turned right, taking a leisurely drive along a road that would eventually bring him to the Pacific Coast Highway.

  Karma had stepped in and stopped his kill. Hiram Mooney was a man who respected Karma. The doubts he’d had about the man who’d hired him rose up, front and center in his mind once more.

  A man who would betray a comrade would think nothing of lying about a target, painting her duplicitous.

  First the light had come on, when he’d been certain everyone in the house had been asleep. The sudden illumination blinded him in the night vision goggles, and then the woman moved just in time to avoid being shot. He couldn’t have choreographed that scene more precisely if he’d tried.

  Mooney would sit back and wait to see what his contact had to say. And this time while he waited he’d do some research of his own into the life and times of Katrina Lawson. Then he’d decide what came next.