High-Stakes Loving [King's Bluff, Wyoming 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Fiona Archer

  “Thank God.” Kane got up and poured Quinn two fingers of scotch. He waited for his brother’s attention then with a raised brow, lifted the bottle.

  “Please,” Alex said and settled into a chair next to Kane.

  Quinn tasted his drink and sat back onto the couch as the heady aromas and breathtaking flavors of the scotch warmed his palate. The initial sweet taste morphed into deeper hues and smoky flavors. “Outstanding.”

  “I have a case of fifty-year-old hidden away. We’ll sample a bottle after dinner.” Kane handed Alex his glass before settling himself back down.

  “Thanks,” Alex muttered after tasting the drink. He studied Quinn, taking another sip before he spoke. “How’s the case going?”

  Quinn crossed an ankle on the opposite knee. “Wrapped up. The senator’s daughter cooperated with the FBI. Her blackmailers are now cooling their heels waiting for transport to a federal prison. No muss, no fuss.”

  “Good. Pisses me off when some little bastard tries to make money from a kid’s stupid decision.” Kane’s eyes sparked. “She dated the wrong guy. He committed the felony. Not her.”

  “Speaking of felonies.” Alex flicked his gaze from his drink back up to Quinn. “How are you holding up, waiting on the parole board’s decision?”

  Quinn shook his head. If they wanted to find something out, be it personal or classified to the highest echelons of the military, they’d find a way—either by using their wits, contacts, or the persuasive resources of a billion-dollar bank account.

  “What are you, the fucking Hardy Boys?” Quinn had discussed the case with a few trusted friends, including the MacKenzies, but that had been years ago.

  “Yes, the kinky-as-fuck, mean-bastards version. Now answer my question,” Alex replied, his voice cool.

  Quinn thumped his glass on the side table. “No, I haven’t heard. It was Hagarty’s first hearing. He’s served the minimum for aggravated assault. Now the bastard gets a chance to show everyone he’s a transformed man and ready to play an active role in society.” Quinn open and closed his fists like a bare-knuckled boxer spoiling for a fight. “My sister has no voice.” Only a grave. “All I could do was write a fucking protest letter to the parole board.”

  “And since he wasn’t charged with your sister’s death…” Kane’s words trailed off.

  “Exactly. It counts for shit.” Because you kept quiet when it was just a shove. Before it grew much worse. His throat burned as a red-hot poker of guilt scaled his skin with his every word. “The assault he was charged with took place years later.” Hagarty, once a star high school quarterback, became assistant football coach at a small college. The so-called big man on campus knew how to impress a young freshman, until he showed his true self. “The kid’s doing okay now. Graduated. Moved on.”

  “As is healthy.” Alex speared Quinn with his gaze.

  Fuck the psychoanalysis shit. “Job here is done. I’ll head home tomorrow.” He took a slug of scotch, avoiding eye contact with Alex. The intensity of the whiskey’s burn matched his disposition.

  Kane cast a quick glance at his brother before speaking. “How are things in King’s Bluff? We’re due for another visit to check on plans with Noah and Flynn. Last time we rushed things to fit it in before the honeymoon and your trip back home.” His face split with a grin. “And now there’s another damsel for us to meet.”

  Despite his souring mood, Quinn had to chuckle. “You stay away from her, you bastard. She’s a good girl. One that Mike and I are slowly corrupting all for ourselves.”

  Christ, he’d missed her, wondering what she’d been up to each day. Had she calmed down, forgiven them for delivering such harsh news?

  Alex lounged deeper into the plushness of his chair. His features softened. A fool would think that’s the result of whiskey, but a man like Alex never allowed drinking to affect his guard. Quinn liked to believe it had more to do with the company of longtime friends.

  “Yes, do tell. From what we’ve overhead on your phone calls with Mike, you boys aren’t getting it all your own way.”

  “Remind me to take my calls outside from now on,” Quinn said in a wry tone. He sighed. Perhaps sharing with his friends might show him what he’s missing in her argument. He gave them a quick recap of Reagan’s family history including the current events after the discovery of her mother’s body and the mounting evidence against her father.

  “So instead of absolving Sam Edwards, you’re finding more to cast doubt. That’s tough for the girl,” Kane said.

  Quinn shot a hard look at his friend. “We didn’t set out to do it on purpose,” he snapped.

  “Steady, Quinn.”

  He tensed at the rap of command in Alex’s voice before common sense kicked him in the ass. This wasn’t his old team leader giving him an order, but a friend setting him straight.

  And he deserved it.

  “Sorry.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, then clenched both hands together and sat forward. “She can’t see that the evidence isn’t there. I never said he’s guilty—”

  “But you came close,” Kane interrupted.

  “Well…” He broke off, sighed. “Fuck.” What else was he supposed to think?

  Kane spoke again, this time with more force behind his voice. “Quinn, it’s her dad. He was her hero. You say the man has no alibi and tick off all the things that make him a suspect. How’s she supposed to react?” He shrugged. “I’m not suggesting you’re wrong. He could be the murderer, but the woman needs to know you’re listening to what she’s saying. Did you guys make it clear you’d taken into account her words and what she knew of her father?”

  Had they? He cast a look back into his memories, trying to drag something to the surface. However, the sinking feeling in his stomach told him the answer. “No, and sure, that would have been a smart move.” One he would fix upon his return. “The issue still remains there’s no proof to support her argument. I can’t rely on only her word that he was a good guy.” Evidence trumps emotions. To think otherwise shows weakness. And weakness costs lives.

  “What does Mike think?” Alex asked

  “He agrees.” Thank fuck. The last thing he needed was Mike casting doubt.

  “Then you have a tough job ahead of you, my friend.” Alex’s mouth turned down. “Convincing the lady she needs to trust you and offering no guarantees how it will turn out when her dad’s reputation’s at stake is no easy feat.” He raised a brow. “Sacked by your own sub?”

  “Fuck.” Quinn groaned, throwing his head against the high back of the couch. “It wasn’t like we could carry her out of there kicking and screaming—at least not in the diner and with one of her pseudo older brothers, the sheriff, walking in at the same time.”

  “Ah yes, the good Sheriff Caleb King. His service record’s impressive.” Kane held up a hand at Quinn’s raised brow. “Don’t ask. We like to know whom we’re dealing with at all times. As for the sheriff, take our word for it, the man would have slotted into a SEAL team without a hitch.”

  That had been his and Mike’s opinion once getting to know Caleb.

  He reached for his scotch, taking a sip before he continued. “Don’t lose all faith in us. We have plans for sweet Reagan.” She could fire them all she wanted. They had unfinished business.

  He’d spent a good hour on the phone with Mike earlier today, throwing around ideas, confirming each other’s commitment to rescuing their relationship with her. In the end, the lady’s own words had sparked their course of action. She’d appreciate the irony. In time.

  “And how will she like those plans?” Alex’s lips twitched.

  “She’ll be fit to be tied, my friend. Fit to be tied.”

  And she’d stay that way. For hours, days, however long it took. He and Mike refused to lose her. To get her back they’d fight dirty, using the one thing they knew would crumble her defenses. Failure was not an option.

  Chapter Nine

  Reagan skimmed a knife over the tub of butter, creating wa
ves with the blade before smoothing them out again. The action soothed her. And she needed soothing, especially as he was back from Seattle.

  Since Chloe had shared that tidbit of information over coffee last night, Reagan had spent every free moment thinking of the guys. Was Quinn tired? Were he and Mike thinking about her? What had Mike been doing while Quinn was away?

  She huffed a dry laugh to herself. Would she ever get a life?

  A smell, acrid, sharp, hit her nose. The toast!

  She waved her hand in front of her face. A plume of gray smoke hung in the air. “Great. There goes tonight’s dinner.” With the tips of her fingers, she plucked the stiff charred squares from the toaster then threw them into the sink. Any more bread? She glanced at the anemically thin bag. Just one crust. “My own fault. This is what I get for thinking about those Dom turkeys.”

  “Last time we were dangerous predators. We get demoted?”

  Quinn’s voice?

  What? She spun around.

  Mike and Quinn stood inside the doorway, their jeans-covered legs braced apart, arms by their sides. Both men’s eyes seemed lit with a sense of purpose. Pleasure filled her for a second until common sense knocked her on the back of the head.

  “How the hell did you get inside?” Shock lent a bite to her voice.

  “Once a SEAL.” Quinn shrugged. “Our enemies never laid out the welcome mat. We had to find our own point of entry.”

  “That’s what I am now? Your enemy?” It hurt even thinking that.

  “Far from it, sweetness.” Mike stepped forward. “You’ve had your hair cut. I like it. Suits your face.” His gaze swept over her track pants and T-shirt as he sniffed the air. “Toast for dinner on a Friday night. No plans?”

  “I didn’t feel like—” She broke off, snapping her mouth shut. After a long breath, she tried again. “None of your business.”

  Quinn took his own step forward. “That’s where you’re wrong. Everything about you is our business.” His stance changed, now more relaxed in stark contrast to the gleam in his eye.

  Reagan started to edge away. The counter nudged her lower back. Stand your ground, idiot. She wouldn’t think about how much she’d missed them or the fact that they’d occupied her every waking thought. Especially, late at night, when she stretched her hand out across the empty sheets and remembered the way their huge bodies had filled all the free space in her bed.

  She raised her chin. “If you have something to say, just say it and go.”

  “We came to apologize.”

  Okay, that wasn’t what she’d anticipated. She blinked. “Oh?”

  Mike let out a breath. “Last Thursday we behaved like complete asses. We shouldn’t have brushed off your comments about your dad as if they didn’t matter.”

  “Your experiences of your dad as a person count, at least as motivation to keep looking for possible explanations,” Quinn added. “It might not make a difference to the evidence, but we should have shown you that consideration.”

  It took a second for their words to sink in before she could reply. “I wasn’t expecting this.” Hoped for yes, but not counting on it to happen. She glanced from Mike to Quinn, seeing the honesty in their eyes. “Thank you.” Not a total exoneration of her dad, but it was a start.

  How did their apology change the status quo? For one, their acknowledgment of riding roughshod over her feelings and ignoring what she was really saying about her dad left her with a major hole in her argument to end things with them.

  Nevertheless, the specter of Darcy’s revelations hung over Reagan’s head, festering away and jabbing at her own inner demons.

  And the guys? For one thing, they’d still broken into her house. Far more troubling was the coiled alertness that emanated from Mike, as if some kind of challenge seemed imminent.

  She needed to stomp on that right now.

  “That doesn’t excuse you breaking into my house.” Apology or not, she wasn’t a pushover.

  Mike’s eyes grew darker. “The apology was only part of our mission tonight.”

  Her belly tightened. “What was the other?”

  “You,” Mike said.

  A flutter of excitement raced over her body. “What?” She felt her nipples harden. Oh, heck, she wasn’t wearing a bra. No way they’d miss seeing her reaction.

  Mike stepped closer, now less than three feet away. “You heard.” His gaze burned her with its fierceness, licking over her skin like a hot flame. “The past week we’ve given you, and us, a chance for space, to think things through. Reagan, do you want to walk away from us?”

  No.

  “I don’t.” She shook her head. “I…no.” The last word came out as no more than a whisper.

  Quinn moved up alongside Mike. Together, they formed a human barricade, blocking any escape. “Thing is, sugar, any relationship needs complete honesty.” He trailed a finger down her cheek before dropping his hand away. “We can’t go forward until you tell us what happened back in the diner.”

  Her mouth opened, closed. “I don’t understand.”

  “We ate lunch. You were happy. Then you visited the restroom. When you came back, you were edgy, upset.”

  Tightness overtook her chest. “You’re mistaken.” Rip open the Darcy-induced wound and confess her own issues? Forget it. She edged further to the right, trying to get the doorway in sight. Quinn stepped sideways. Her view of the exit vanished.

  Mike’s voice held an unyielding strength that sent a shiver all the way down to her toes. “No. We’re not. And you know it.” He stepped closer. The threads of his denim shirt seemed magnified at such close range. She licked her lips.

  “Why so nervous, honey? All we’re asking for is a simple explanation. You keep looking to the side. See, there you go again. Think you’d get around Quinn?”

  Yes. No. Heck, she didn’t know. They were too close, crowding her in.

  “You jerk. Take your observations and shove them up your ass.” She pointed a, dammit, shaky finger toward the door. “Leave.”

  Quinn placed his hands on his hips. “We’re gonna do this the hard way, aren’t we, sugar?” His cheeks creased with a smile as he nodded to Mike.

  “We’re not going to do anything,” Reagan bit out.

  Mike turned, headed out the door only to come back seconds later with their famed gym bag.

  “Hey, I said leave.”

  Both men ignored her. Mike rummaged inside the bag before lifting out a length of rope.

  Her heart pounded so hard. From fear? No. Expectation? Oh, yes.

  Mike’s powerful gaze trapped hers. In his eyes she spied more than determination. He knew the effect seeing that rope had on her body. “One last chance, Reagan. If you don’t want to take this further, use your safe word.”

  No. She wasn’t going to be bullied. Not in her own home. Let them do their worst. “If you respect me, you’ll leave now. We can talk later, when you’ve both climbed down off your Dom high horses.”

  “Wrong answer.” Quinn gripped her upper arms and dragged her against his chest, her soft “oooph” lost against his black T-shirt.

  “Let me go.” She wrenched against his grip. God, it was helpless. She was a newborn kitten to his mighty lion.

  Mike pulled her arms behind her. “We won’t hurt you, but you know that already, don’t you?” He cinched the rope around her wrists, his swift moves outflanking her struggles. He thrust one leg between hers, forcing her legs wide, thereby rendering her unable to let fly with one of her slipper-covered feet. “You’re pissed at us but you haven’t used your safe word.” She felt him tie a knot with the rope, tightening the coils against her skin. “Discussions are at an end. Time you learn we take your protection and care seriously.”

  “Care? You call this caring?” She closed her eyes against the surge of heat as Mike tugged on the knot, checking its hold.

  The cord felt tight against her skin, sending a zing of awareness over her flesh. She tried to twist her wrists, but there was no give.
She should have known.

  Quinn wrapped one arm around her, forcing her breasts to press against his chest. “Listen up, sweetness. Something happened in that restroom. Made you so fucking mad you lashed out at us. We’re gonna find the answer.” He tilted her chin back. “And then we’ll perform a search and destroy on your trust issues.”

  Her belly quivered. She wasn’t ready for that. Not now. Not ever.

  He glanced over her head toward Mike, nodded once, and then firmed his grip on her jaw.

  She glimpsed a flash of cloth before a large wedge of material was pushed into her mouth and drawn tight behind her head. “Mmmmphh!”

  Mike wrapped the material once more around her face before tying it off at her nape, seeming to take care not to pull on her hair.

  “Dmffmh! Smph a a mmsh!” Her angry curses barely made a sound against the gag.

  Quinn dared to grin at her a second before he lifted her onto his shoulder. He clamped his arm over the back of her legs, rendering her kicks to pathetic jerks. Her tipped-over view of the world traced their path down the hallway and into her bedroom, where she landed face up on her bed. Mike sat near her feet, more rope in his hand. She kicked out, grunting at the effort. He dodged her like she was a kid at her first judo lesson. A stinging slap landed on the side of her thigh.

  Quinn pulled on the ends of her hair, forcing her head back. “Do that again and I’ll shove a plug in that pretty little ass of yours much sooner and harder than we’d planned. Then I’ll spank you so it hurts.” He held her there, staring into her eyes as she breathed loudly through her nose. When he let go, she closed her eyes against the image of her wearing a plug, bound, gagged, and at their mercy.

  Quinn’s voice cut into her musings. “I want our captive without panties.”

  Working together, he and Mike removed her track pants and panties. Her muted howls counted for nothing.

  “Here’s the deal, Reagan.” Mike made short work of cinching her ankles with the rope as Quinn grabbed a tote bag from inside her wardrobe and then stuffed a pair of jeans and sneakers inside. He disappeared out of her bedroom as his partner in crime finished securing her ankles. Mike continued. “We’re taking you to our cabin. I’d say you have nothing to fear from us, but Quinn just gave you good reason. He’s not a man for idle threats.” He quirked his lips at her answering growl. “If you’re in any true distress, cry out three times and I’ll untie the gag.” The authority in his voice held her a prisoner as effectively as his ropes. “Don’t think to play any games. You’ll pay later.”