Avenging Angel [Tales from the Lyon's Den 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  He called Mac, and when he saw that Consuela was with his friend, he showed her pictures of three different houses.

  “It’s the first one.”

  “Are you sure? It was very dark that night.”

  “Sí. Yes, I am sure. I looked over my shoulder and swore to remember. The one window there, it had cardboard over the bottom half, but when I ran, I saw that the glass was broken in front of it.”

  That was a fact that really didn’t show up in the picture he’d taken, but Clint had noticed the broken glass.

  “Did you arrest them?”

  Hope was in her eyes, and he hated like hell to disappoint her. “No, not yet. The house is empty right now. But we know it’s one they will use again, so the next time they come through—and we have a sense it’ll be soon—we’ll be ready, and we will arrest them then.”

  He disconnected the call and then called the Deputy Director. He figured that time invested in going through the real estate records for this town, specifically this street, would be time well spent.

  The Deputy Director thought so too. He promised Clint there’d be someone on that ASAP.

  It was only a matter of time before they caught that slime bucket, Torres, in their trap. Clint intended to truss him up in legal bindings so well that it would bring tears of pride to his Kinbaku master.

  The last piece of the puzzle would be discovering whether or not Peter Alvarez-Kendall had any good news to report from his contact in Mexico. Things were coming together in this investigation nicely. He could feel it.

  Chapter 17

  Something was off with this investigation. He could feel it.

  Ramón put his attention for one moment on the small patch of skin at the very top of his left thigh. He’d expected the tiny cut to irritate him, but he had to actually focus on the small wound to even be aware of it. The bandage would come off in the morning, and he hoped Joe was satisfied with what he saw at that point. Ramón was scheduled to meet with Torres tomorrow evening. Something niggled there. Ramón reached for it, but then it was gone.

  Maybe this feeling of being off had more to do with his personal involvements during this case than with the case itself. He and Clint had elected to come to the Lyon’s Den this evening for a little light play with Marcia and because their presence there, so close to his appointed meeting with their target, would relay the sense that all was well.

  Yet, being here was more than just working to support his cover. Being here felt safe. It felt like being in a second home. He kept his gaze fixed on the women’s locker room. I’ll feel more settled once Marcia’s here, with us.

  “You’re frowning.” Clint shook his head. “You should be smiling. Especially with those updates we got from my boss and from Peter, earlier.”

  Ramón looked over at Clint. “I know that. There’s just something that seems off, and I don’t know what it is.”

  Clint met his gaze. “All right. Let’s recap what we’ve learned, and what we think, and see if anything pops.”

  Clint’s suggestion was a damn good one. Ramón nodded. “All right, I’ll start. It was good news that we can trace ownership of that house Consuela was held in back to Torres—back to the days when he was Emilio Sanchez and just starting out on his business of flesh and drug peddling before he faked his death and became Torres.” That nugget of intel was one of the biggest surprises Peter’s man in Mexico had given them, and it made perfect sense. That was why there was no deep history of Sérgio Torres. Until just under twenty years before, there had been no Sérgio Torres. Sanchez, on the other hand, had a long list of crimes where he’d been a “person of interest.” He’d been operating in Dallas and San Antonio, and both police departments had, at turns, investigated him. I’ll have to remember to ask Craig if he recalls the name. Craig had been a detective with the San Antonio police before he’d joined the bureau.

  “Speculation is the house was supposed to be registered to a numbered corporation, that the man at the top of the organization at the time had given Sanchez cash to buy a place in a small town in Texas to be used in their distribution chain.” Clint cast a look at Ramón. “But Sanchez—Torres—decided to keep the place for himself.”

  Ramón found his rhythm. “A strange thing to do, but shortly after that he ‘became’ Torres.” Ramón liked sharing speculation like this with Clint. It was what partners—the best partners—did. “So maybe he knew he had a target on his back and used the place to lay low for awhile. We can speculate he was also the one who ratted out the man at the top of that organization, and then took over the entire operation as Torres.”

  “I think that’s why he kept that particular house and why he uses it to this day. And now we have cops in the house right across the street from there. They’ve got a twenty-four-hour surveillance going on and even managed to break in and plant a couple of bugs in the place. On top of all that, Peter thinks his man will manage to get even more information out of Ortiz. Everything is coming together. It really is just a matter of time, Ramón. So…did that help? Feel better?”

  “Not at all.”

  Clint tilted his head. “Is it your cop instincts screaming at you? Or is it more personal?”

  Ramón nodded. “That’s the question and one I can’t honestly answer. I’d say the former, but I’ve never been in this kind of a situation where the lines between personal and business cross. I’ve felt trepidation on an op. Who hasn’t? But…” He didn’t know if he could finish the thought.

  “But you never had someone who mattered so much to you, someone who’s also connected to your investigation. Someone you can’t lose.”

  Ramón exhaled. “Yeah. That says it all.”

  “Fair enough. So, let’s pay attention to both. I think we’re safe, here. There will be enough eyes on our woman once she enters the room, but ours will be, too. And tomorrow, once you head out, I won’t leave her side.”

  “Thank you, brother. That does help.”

  “Now, try to set aside your worry about our woman. Let’s both assume that there is something off about our case. What is it?

  “I have no idea. It’s as if that something is so close, and I simply can’t grasp it.”

  “No wonder you’re edgy, then. I’d feel the same way.”

  It helped, knowing he wasn’t really out of line in his thinking. Clint had been in the DPS for nearly as long as Ramón had been in the FBI. He scanned the crowd around him. He frowned. Brenda and Craig were here, and it looked like they were heading over to one of the play areas.

  He’d known they were going to put in an appearance tonight, shoring up their cover. He shook his head. No matter how many times he saw them, he simply could not process the sight of Craig on a leash. Or, hell, even Craig barefoot. His gaze went to the man’s feet, and sure enough, befitting his status here as a sub, his feet were naked. At least he doesn’t have those damned cowboy boots on. Ramón grinned. Bare feet were definitely an improvement over those shit kickers.

  The door to the locker room opened, and Marcia emerged—wearing the black strap outfit they’d bought for her and in the company of Daisy Lyons.

  “I’m glad they’re friends,” Clint said. “Our woman hasn’t had many in her life.”

  “So am I, and for the same reason.”

  Ramón had to admit to himself that watching Marcia approach, seeing her smile and, then, yes, the graceful way she slipped to her knees and presented herself to them definitely smoothed out some of his edginess.

  Clint had a scene planned, one in which he would bind her very sweetly and suspend her from special hooks in the ceiling. He called it his “Marcia swing.”

  The only catch was she’d have to be naked.

  When Clint had presented the play, just before they’d left the apartment, he could see the idea made her a bit nervous. Still, she’d agreed. Ramón would have thought the realization that anyone there would be able to see his woman nude would make his inner caveman emerge. Yet, he felt fine, as if this really was lik
e a second home and most of these people here, though his relationships with them were neither deep nor of long duration, a kind of family.

  They both reached out and stroked Marcia’s hair, their signal that they were glad to have her there and grateful for her gift of submission. Ramón reached his hand out to her. She took it and rose to her feet.

  “Are you sure you’re all right with this, little one?”

  “I’m sure. You’ll both be there, and this is for us. Others may look, but you won’t let anyone touch me.”

  “Damn straight, darlin’. The only ones who’re going to have hands on you are Ramón and me.”

  “More than hands, I hope, Sir.”

  “Vixen. We’ll save that for when we get home tonight,” Clint said.

  Ramón grinned. Their woman could be a cheeky little thing when she had a mind to be. Clint took her hand and led her over to the play area they’d reserved. Christopher came over, along with Daisy and Rory. While Clint prepared his ropes, Ramón kissed Marcia lightly then wiggled his finger, indicating that he wanted her to turn around.

  She did and then relaxed as he quickly and easily removed the leather outfit she’d just put on.

  “Arms by your side, subbie,” Clint said.

  Ramón’s grin flashed. That was one of his partner’s pet names for their woman, and he didn’t think she was particularly fond of it. Sometimes Clint used it when he wanted to distract her, as he did now.

  Ramón had to admit the ease with which Clint began to bind Marcia looked artistic. And as more of the white-colored rope lay upon her flesh, he noticed the change in her. She became even more relaxed, and a slightly glazed look entered her eyes. Clint nodded to him, and he stepped forward and lifted her. He cradled her gently in his arms as Clint began the task of suspending her. When it was time, Ramón stepped back and Clint finished the binding.

  Several of the members not engaged in their own scenes appeared interested in Clint’s work. He caught sight of Brenda and Craig just behind and to the left but didn’t look at them.

  “Clint is my best pupil,” Chris said. “In fact, I do believe he’s surpassed even my talent.”

  “Marcia loves it,” Ramón said. “So, I’m very glad he is as good as he is at that.”

  Chris turned to him. “I thought we could all head out to dinner in a bit. I know you’re going into the belly of the beast tomorrow. Marcia’s a bit anxious.”

  “We noticed that, too, which is one of the reasons that we decided on this particular scene.” Dinner would give their woman more time with her friend, and that would be good for her. “Thanks, dinner would be great.”

  “Good, I’ve already made reservations at Maurice’s. We can leave the protocols behind and just be six friends dining out. We’ll take the limo. The seating is more comfortable, and Rory has agreed to drive.” Chris clapped him on the shoulder and then walked over to talk to another couple watching Clint’s work.

  Then Clint stood beside him, and they both watched Marcia. She was swinging, just slightly. Her arms at the elbows down were free, and her hands had extended, as if offering herself to her Doms. Her head was back so that her gaze didn’t meet theirs, and her pussy and anus were visible to all. Visible and accessible and that put a very erotic image front and center in Ramón’s mind.

  “If we buy that house we were talking about, we should install the suspension apparatus in our play room. Can you have her swing…lower?”

  Clint’s gaze reflected his visit to Dom space. “Great minds think alike.”

  Ramón grinned then moved so he could see Marcia’s expression. “Where are you, mi ángel?”

  “Green, Sir. This is…amazing.”

  “Good. Enjoy.” He stepped back, aware he felt apart from Clint and Marcia at that moment. And that was fine. There were going to be times when they each would be front and center in their sub’s life, times when they had private moments with her. He wanted that, for all of them. He flicked his glance around, not surprised when he caught sight of Brenda and Craig turning to leave. Despite the roles they were playing, Brenda had looked intrigued by Clint’s demonstration of Kinbaku. Then movement caught his attention. Chance Carter was moving away from the crowd as well, and Ramón frowned. He hadn’t even noticed the man had been there.

  Maybe that’s what had me on edge. A few times over the last couple of days, he’d felt as if someone had been watching him. He’d felt it when they’d left the apartment earlier, although he hadn’t been able to see anyone following him. He’d also felt it while he’d been waiting for Marcia to come out of the locker room.

  Ramón made a note to ask Joe to allow Randy Q to check into the man’s background. If he was a dirty cop, Randy should be able to find some evidence to support that or at least enough to warrant a deeper look.

  Marcia sighed, and Clint stepped forward. “Ready to get down, darlin’?”

  Ramón checked his watch, surprised that a half hour had passed.

  “Yes, please. Thank you, Clint. I’d been feeling a bit off, and you just made it all better for me.”

  “You’re beautiful in those ropes, querida.” Ramón came over and helped Clint as he set about releasing their sub.

  Her smile melted his heart. “I feel beautiful in them. Beautiful and safe.”

  The flicker of emotion in her gaze didn’t faze him. “We all have things to overcome, Marcia. If this helps, then that’s a good thing.”

  “We all three of us need each other, baby.” Clint stepped back until Ramón had set her on her feet then came close to finish his task. “We’ll all three help each other.”

  “Like a family?”

  Ramón leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Exactly like a family. How do you feel about that?”

  “I love you both. The idea of the three of us being family—it’s better than any dream I’ve ever had.”

  He hadn’t expected the words. Hoped for, yes, but expected? Not yet. His woman proved to be stronger and more resilient than he bet even she believed she was. A quick look at Clint told him that man was as moved by her declaration as he was.

  “I love you, Marcia Crane. I think I have since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

  “I love you, darlin’. And that is for keeps.”

  No one seemed to notice the intimacy of the moment, which was perfect. Ramón experienced something he’d only ever read about—read about and had immediately discounted as real—the sense that the three of them were, at that moment, in a world of their own. He had a premonition that it would be a feeling that would grow as the days, months, years passed.

  And it was perfect.

  “Come on, sweetheart.” Clint lifted her chin and kissed her. “A late supper with the Lyonses awaits us.”

  Ramón gave her a kiss then used his finger to rub his kiss into her lips. “Then, after supper, we’ll go home, where we both plan to show you just how much we love you.”

  “I think I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

  Ramón didn’t know about the luckiest, but he believed with all his heart she was the most loved.

  * * * *

  Clint couldn’t help but notice that Ramón seemed more relaxed than he had just an hour before. He was glad to see it. It wasn’t that he automatically discounted his partner’s unease. They were both cops, and there was something to be said for cop instincts. Clint did wonder if the other man had managed to put his guilt away, at last. He understood that initially, Ramón only intended going through the Dom routine with Marcia because he’d been convinced by both himself and Christopher Lyons that Marcia needed the two of them, together.

  But he thought that at some point over the last few weeks, as they’d begun to live like a family, Ramón had been able to close the door on those, in Clint’s view, misplaced feelings of guilt. Or if not close it completely, at least diminish the power of that negative emotion on his life.

  Christopher joined them in their vigil outside the women’s locker room.

&
nbsp; “Rory’s gone to get the limo.”

  Clint raised his one eyebrow. “Really?”

  Chris grinned. “I explained to Ramón that I figured it would be more comfortable for us and better than taking two cars to the restaurant.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” Clint said.

  “You have a good crowd in here tonight.” Ramón’s attention was on the main club room on the other side of the glass doors. Behind them, the main entrance to the club proper. Ahead of them, the glass door to the street. The male and female locker rooms were in this in-between place. And while they could peer out onto the street, people outside couldn’t really see in.

  When Clint realized he was keeping his attention divided between the two doors, he decided that Ramón’s unease must be contagious.

  “Sometimes mid-week nights are busier than the weekends,” Chris said. “Not sure I understand that, but I won’t complain about it.”

  “I should let you both know, before the women join us,” Ramón said, “I just got a call from one of my contacts at Leathers. Lance Kramer is missing. He hasn’t been seen for a few days.”

  That explained the call Ramón had gotten a few minutes before as he left the men’s locker room. “No leads?” Clint asked.

  “Nothing. He left Leathers, ostensibly to have lunch. I checked with our friends at the HPD. They found his car, abandoned, a couple days later. According to a waitress at a restaurant close to where they found the vehicle, a man answering Lance’s description came in, ordered lunch, and then was simply gone.”

  “Crap, do you think Torres turned on him because we pulled the man in for questioning?” Clint had known the risk they were taking when they pulled that raid. Lance Kramer was no boy scout, so Clint didn’t feel guilty. But if that is what happened, it would ratchet up the degree of preparedness they’d need going forward.

  “I don’t know what to think,” Ramón said. He turned his attention to Chris. “What do you know about Chance Carter that you can share with us?”