Crossroads 6: Love Undercover (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  She thought about Elwood. Only about an inch shorter than Damien, Elwood was filled with energy. He couldn’t seem to stand still long, and she noticed, throughout their journey from New Delhi, that it was Elwood who ran the errands, was two steps ahead of the next thing, and always eager to move on to the next thing. It wasn’t until he was on the plane and sitting beside her that he finally slowed down and sat watch. She didn’t think he slept, but she wouldn’t know. She’d conked out and awoken on Damien’s shoulder a few times and then Elwood’s shoulder, too.

  A glance at Toro, and the serious, firm expression as he watched her, told her he was in tune to the vibes surrounding them, and it was as if he had something to say but held back. It was just another reason to stay upstairs.

  She walked over to the window and looked between the small gap in the curtain and into the woods. She wouldn’t open it, wider despite the gorgeous view and privacy of the forest. She was too scared and thought that someone could be watching her from a distance, waiting to strike. It kept her on edge.

  She gasped when she heard the knock and kicked herself for not even hearing the footsteps coming down the hallway.

  She stood still, ran her palms down the tight jeans, and adjusted the long-sleeve cotton shirt in burgundy.

  “Come in,” she whispered.

  She was a bit surprised to see Toro there. She’d expected Damien. He seemed to be the one who took charge of checking in on her.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  She stared up at him. He was the tallest of the three men. He must be at least six foot four. He glanced at her and then the window then back at her.

  “It’s nice out. You should open the curtains and let the light in.”

  “No thank you.”

  “Is there a problem?” he asked in an abrupt tone as if he were annoyed with her.

  She’d realized pretty quickly that Toro had a chip on his shoulder and might be the kind of Marine, and man, who didn’t think fondly of women in the Corps. She didn’t know why she felt that way, but maybe it had something to do with the way he looked at her when Damien needed to help her shower or perhaps how he watched her avoid the game room where there were pictures of their friends, including Charro, and she just couldn’t look at them yet. She wasn’t sure, but the man put her on edge and made her worry.

  “It’s safe here, Sacha, to have the blinds open. There isn’t anyone out there watching you. We have extra surveillance video and motion sensors hooked up to a high-tech system around the perimeter and throughout the house. If there’s a fucking chipmunk climbing along the tree, we fucking know about it.” He walked over, opened the curtains and raised the blinds higher.

  She fought the urge to hide. Instead, she walked closer to the bedroom door. When he left, she would close it.

  He looked at her and let his eyes roam over her from head to toe. The clothes they’d gotten her were tight. They knew nothing about shopping for a woman. But it could be worse, and she could be swimming in the clothes. At least them being tight made her watch her calorie intake, considering her exercise regimen was slimmed down some.

  He glanced at the window and then back at her.

  “It’s normal to feel paranoid and on edge after escaping being killed. You went through a lot. Although you have yet to share the details with us, it seems that way. It will pass, and when you’re ready to talk, we will listen.” He sounded so robotic and rehearsed.

  “Having a gun would be nice.”

  “Not happening. You need to recover. We need to arrange for some sort of counseling to help you get through the ordeal.”

  “I don’t need counseling. I need to get organized and regroup. I need to have a look into the thumb drives and files on a secure, untraceable system, and alone. Then I need to figure out who these assholes are and take them down.”

  “Well, that’s not happening for quite some time.”

  “It will happen when I say it happens,” she snapped at him.

  He looked at her with an expression that totally said she’d gone over the line, and she lowered her eyes automatically. Toro was that damn intimidating and confident. Plus, him and the others outranked her. She automatically realized that, even though they weren’t technically in charge of her and that she wasn’t on a government mission with them, there was still that respect for authority and higher power. All three men were more capable than her. She knew it. But the need to remain independent as much as possible and strong was overwhelming. Toro had the instant ability to get under her skin.

  “Every day you’ll get stronger. You’ll see,” he said to her and then walked closer.

  She stared at him, and he just looked down at her with those dark-blue eyes and an all-knowing expression. It was as though he understood what she was feeling and going through. He’d seen combat. He’d looked death in the eyes and escaped it. More than once. She knew it instantly.

  “Ready for lunch?”

  “I guess so,” she said, not wanting to stand here alone with him. He weakened her resolve to be strong and alone. He challenged her with very little words. It was intimidating, and she didn’t care for it one bit. She got back her attitude. They walked out of the bedroom, and he followed her down the stairs.

  As they walked, she glanced back at him.

  “So basically what you’re telling me is that you think I’ll emotionally lose my mind, like some post-traumatic stress situation, and I’ll try to sneak into your bedrooms at night and kill you and your team if I have access to a gun?” she asked, hearing the sarcasm in her own voice as she stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

  He stopped right behind her. She could feel his large presence and the warmth of his body, too. She looked over her shoulder at him.

  “You could never sneak up on me or the team. Our worry is for you and doing something stupid.”

  He slid past her as she took the last step and then glanced toward the kitchen.

  “I may be a little off my game as I recover, but I’m certain it won’t be long before I’m a hundred percent,” she said to him as they entered the kitchen.

  “You check her wound?” Damien asked as he set the cold cuts and bread down on the table for them to make sandwiches.

  “Didn’t get a chance, not enough light in the dungeon.”

  She shot Toro a dirty look, and Damien caught it. Elwood just stared at her as he stopped making a sandwich.

  “Staying in the dark all day and night is not a good thing,” Damien said to her.

  “I’m catching up on my sleep.” She held on to the top of the chair as she looked up at them watching her.

  “You don’t need to be afraid here. We’ve got your back. It’s safe.”

  “I need to do this my way. Why don’t you back off?”

  She pulled out the chair and placed a knee on the seat as she reached for a roll but paused when she took the knife to cut it open. She glanced up at Toro. “Am I allowed to use the knife, or do you think I’ll try slitting one of your throats or maybe my wrists with it?” she snapped at him but didn’t wait for an answer as she lifted the knife and cut into the bread.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Damien asked.

  “Nothing,” Toro snapped back and went about making his sandwich.

  “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me,” Damien replied.

  “She’s just being emotional. Forget it and let her be,” Toro said.

  “Emotional? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she snapped at him, dropping the knife onto the table and staring up at him across the table. Toro locked gazes with her, his expression intense and angry.

  “You can’t handle any bit of being taken care of and assisted in your recovery. You’re on edge because you know you’re not at the top of your game physically or mentally. We’re trying to help you, but you’re being a bi—”

  “Enough,” Damien said.

  “No, not enough. I ‘m trying to get my mind straight. I’m trying to regain strength.
”

  “Then look at the damn pictures and mourn his loss,” Toro yelled at her.

  She looked at Elwood and Damien, who just stared at her. She knew Elwood and Toro were pissed because she couldn’t, wouldn’t, walk into the game room and look at the framed pictures of them and Charro together, of good times, of special moments in the military, but she couldn’t do it.

  “You’re not in charge of me. You’re not my commander,” she said to Toro.

  “No, he isn’t, but I am, for the time being and under this controlled situation. Someone must maintain order and respect around here. I’m it. Let’s settle down, eat some lunch, and then talk about this,” Damien said.

  “No.” She turned around and headed out of the room and up the stairs.

  She didn’t know how this whole thing had gone so wrong, just like she didn’t know how or why this conversation with Toro had turned into a pissing contest. Before she made it to her bedroom and could close the door, Damien was there. He shocked her, approaching from behind and standing there in the doorway.

  She walked over to the curtains and shoved them closed. She turned around.

  “Sacha?” He said her name and walked farther into the room.

  “I don’t know what his problem is. He started with me, and over the damn pictures, and saying I couldn’t have a gun or I might hurt myself or try to hurt you guys because of post-traumatic stress. Do I fucking look like I’m suffering from PTSD?” She raised her voice, and he raised one of his eyebrows up at her. She went to say something as her mind processed her behavior and her outburst. She plopped down on the edge of the bed and growled as she ran her fingers through her hair.

  “It’s normal to feel this way. Maybe if you talked a little bit about what happened, it could make you feel better?”

  She shook her head.

  She didn’t want to relive it. She had flashbacks at night when she slept and even during the day when she napped. She wasn’t going to sit here and tell him about the mission going wrong and about watching a bullet hit Charro in the head.

  “No,” she whispered.

  He walked closer. “You’re being stubborn. We’re not the bad guys.”

  She looked at him. Her chest tightened. She didn’t trust anything or anyone, but she was feeling as if she could trust them, but then she thought about the mission. It was supposed to be pretty damn safe, aside from getting her hands on the thumb drives and microchips. She still hadn’t looked at them yet.

  “I know you’re scared. You don’t know who to trust or what do with the evidence, if it even is evidence as to who killed Charro and the team. But you need to know that we’re not the enemy. We’re here to help you. Your brother put your life in our hands, and we will protect you. If it makes you feel any better, Charro told us about you, a year ago.”

  She clasped her hands on her lap and looked up at him. She fought to remember Charro’s words and what he’d told her. She didn’t need to feel weak or be emotional like Toro accused her of being because she was a female.

  “He never said a word about any of you,” she said and looked away from him. Even after she said the words, it hurt and didn’t feel right to lie to him. But she was confused. She was feeling things she wasn’t used to and didn’t want to face. She was attracted to Damian, to Toro, and Elwood. Charro wanted her to meet them. Charro wanted to explore his feelings for her and never had the chance. Now she was here, putting his family—his best friends—in danger and could get them killed, too. She felt guilty and conflicting about telling him she lied, and that Charro had told her about them. But when she sort of had the nerve to look back at him, she caught sight of his back as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

  * * * *

  “Should we go wake her or see if she wants to eat?” Elwood said as they sat at the kitchen table eating dinner.

  “No. Let her be. She needs to work this through and to learn to trust us.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Damien,” Toro said to him.

  “You remember what Charro said to us over a year ago? How he talked about this woman, a fellow Marine that he was impressed with?” Damien asked.

  “There’s no need to even talk about it. It was farfetched, even with Charro,” Toro snapped at him, then put another bite of food into his mouth and finished up his dinner. He pushed the plate forward. He glanced up toward the staircase. Still no sign of Sacha.

  “It wasn’t so farfetched when we sat here drinking beers and talking about retiring from all the dangerous bullshit,” Damien added.

  “Yeah, like that would happen. Even living out here we’ve had to assist with a few situations that required our expertise,” Toro said.

  “But it was for friends and this community. Any of us are always willing to help a woman in danger and her men,” Elwood said to them.

  “Franco chose us to go get her and bring her back safely. He trusts us with protecting her and helping her get through this and live. The fact that Charro told us his plan of bringing Sacha back here to the States and introducing us to her had meaning, too.”

  “Yeah, he bought into the idea of wanting to be normal. This whole concept of sharing a woman as a team because individually he wouldn’t feel like he could succeed in being everything a woman needed,” Toro said.

  “It was more than that. We’ve seen it firsthand with our friends. With our friends, Riley, Chancellor, Tiegen, Mitch, and a bunch of other men who share one woman, protect her, and provide for her,” Damien said to Toro.

  “But this woman is Sacha. She’s a Marine, a trained killer, and resourceful soldier. What the fuck does she need us for? Sex?” Toro asked.

  “Damn, Toro, is your heart made of stone? How about to just understand and empathize with by what we experience in our professions? To get it and to know what it feels like to lose a fellow soldier, a best friend, and to see bad people do bad shit?” Elwood asked and then stood up and walked his plate to the sink.

  “I don’t know why we’re talking about this now. It didn’t work out. Charro didn’t make it, and Sacha is afraid and unwilling to trust us even enough to talk about the evidence and tell us how her team died, how Charro died. I don’t trust it,” Toro said, rising from his seat. They didn’t say another word about it. Everyone was in a state as they cleaned up then called it a night.

  * * * *

  They got her so angry. The three of them and their damn confidence and ability to be so strong. Was it just because she was a woman that she was feeling so emotional, angry, and wanting to scream? She didn’t know, but as she tried to stay away from them and tried not to think about Kabul and about Charro, she just couldn’t fight it any longer.

  She needed to face the fear, the anger, and sadness at losing him the way she had. At never knowing if anything could have come of them exploring their attraction and him bringing her here to meet Toro, Damien, and Elwood under different terms. What did it mean? She heard that a lot of people, troops, shared their women. A team to one woman to cope with all they did and do as soldiers. She got it, understood it, but her mindset was different. Her father and the Corps had drilled into her head the need to survive solo when all else failed. Well, all else had failed. She was alone. She couldn’t trust anyone and couldn’t even follow her gut. That was another thing. She thought about that gut instinct now as she tiptoed down the stairs and toward the game room.

  A whole other week had passed with her avoiding them as best she could, especially avoiding Toro.

  When she and Charro had been in the city and moving toward the bus station to see if they could identify the others, she had the feeling that they shouldn’t, but she’d put her trust in Charro as military leader. He had just confessed his desire to explore their attraction, her mind whirling with the what-ifs. What if I said no? What if I begged him to just leave and get the hell out of Kabul together?

  She held on to the doorframe, trying to see in the darkness yet not quite ready to. She walked into the dark room an
d could see slightly with the light of the moon coming in. On the one wall were pictures of different events and activities in the military and civilian settings with Toro, Damien, Elwood, Charro, and even other troops and local friends.

  It would be a glimpse into his life and perhaps some times they could have shared together would have been added to this wall.

  She walked toward the small table and turned on the light. She didn’t look up, couldn’t look up, yet. She needed to get herself ready to see Charro’s face, his smile, him in good spirits and not with a bullet to his forehead and his dark green eyes wide open in shock. She felt her eyes well up with tears. She gripped one arm of the single seater chair and opened her eyes. Charro, in uniform with his buddies. Charro smiling wide as he posed in front of a tank. Charro drinking beers and watching what looked like football at some tailgate party with a bunch of buddies. Charro, staring right at her, smiling, in uniform and happy like she wanted to remember him but couldn’t. The tears spilled from her eyes, no matter how hard she fought to keep them back. She thought again about what he’d said to her and about what the future might have held. She thought of his inference to his friends, the three men who’d come to rescue her and sneak her out of the Middle East. Three military men, best friends of Charro. Men he wanted her to meet with him. Did he imagine the five of them together, being lovers, partners for however long a relationship like that could last? She didn’t know and couldn’t tell if she wanted that only because he was gone now and it was what he wanted, or was it because somehow he’d known that she would be attracted to Elwood, Damien, and Toro, just like she was attracted to Charro but denied it, focusing on her job and being a Marine first? Look what being a Marine first had gotten her.

  On the run from terrorists, so much anger in her heart, in her soul. All she kept thinking about since she’d gotten here was seeking revenge and, ultimately, having to go back to the Middle East. She knew once she looked at those thumb drives and microchips that she was going to set her eyes on the goal, the kill. Tears filled her eyes once again as they locked onto more images, great, happy pictures of Charro. She closed her eyes, imagining his cologne, his masculinity, and the way he spoke with her in his last moments. His focus had been on getting them to safety and working together so he could take her here to Wellington. She knew that now, but then, in that moment, she refused to think about pleasantries and fantasies or any human connection and bond. Instead, she’d focused on staying alive. She thought about what it might be like to be Charro’s lover, to give of her body to him and know it would be more. It would be her soul, and she would never turn back. But that chance was gone now. All she had left of him were these pictures, these three men, and that memory of what he’d said to her, as well as the images of his death.