Dead Moon Rising [The American Heroes Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Macy Largo

  “You’re both horn dogs,” she said. She kissed his chest as she let her fingers play with his hair. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Del returned and slipped into bed with them. He cuddled close, draping an arm over her. “You okay, baby? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  She smiled without opening her eyes. “Yes, I’m okay, and no, you didn’t hurt me.”

  “I need a nap,” John said, “and then we can have breakfast.”

  She thought that was a damn spiffy idea and settled in, feeling safe and secure, to go to sleep. Content, sated, satisfied.

  Wanted.

  And, she suspected, loved.

  * * * *

  After an hour, she awoke to find she’d shifted position in bed, John ending up in the middle. She carefully climbed out of bed to find something to wear. She pulled a T-shirt, Del’s she suspected, over her head, and it hung nearly to her knees. She turned to look at the men. John slept with his head tucked against Del’s chest. She lingered in the doorway for a long moment, arms crossed and a smile on her face. They looked adorable, perfect for each other.

  And they want me, too.

  Breakfast could wait a little longer. She wanted them to get plenty of rest. A smiled played along her lips.

  They’d need it for today.

  She made herself a mug of hot tea and went to the office. With all her bedroom activities, she hadn’t checked her email since yesterday morning. She had updated her clients and told them she had a semi-permanent situation now, so they’d know they could reach her, but she hadn’t given them any specifics.

  One of these days, when she could afford it, she’d get a BlackBerry so she could check her email and not need to be tethered to her laptop.

  She had two accounts, one for her professional email, which routed through her domain’s mail server on her host account and funneled into a Gmail account. The other, her private email, went straight to another Gmail account.

  Business mail first. There were a few spam messages, which she immediately dumped, and three questions from clients, which she quickly dealt with.

  In her personal email account, the latest message received was from Uncle Eddie, wanting a status update. She smiled and pondered her response. Even open-minded Eddie might draw the line at approving of his niece being in a poly relationship. She sipped her tea before replying.

  John and Del have welcomed me into their home with open arms. They’re very sweet, and they’re very persuasive. I feel safe here with them, and I work well with John. I’d like to stay here for now, if you don’t mind?

  Send.

  She returned to her inbox and started working her way down mail from her friends and a few email lists she belonged to when a response appeared from her uncle.

  Tell them if they break your heart, I don’t care if they’re cops, I’ll come up there and bust their heads. :) When do I get to meet them?

  She grinned.

  Would you mind three house guests for Christmas?

  Before she could click back to the inbox, Gmail indicated she had a reply.

  Just let me know when, I’ll put out extra towels and buy ear plugs for at night. ;)

  She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her squeal of laughter. Okay, so maybe he had read the writing on the wall and didn’t mind.

  Thanks, Uncle Eddie. I promise I’ll stay in touch.

  His reply came only seconds later.

  Hugs to you, and yes, you’d better stay in touch. Maybe I’ll come out there for a visit. Think your boys can show me good places to hunt and fish?

  She stared at the screen and swallowed back the lump in her throat. Her boys. Yes, they were hers now, weren’t they?

  I’m sure we can arrange it. There’s plenty of room, and you’re more than welcomed whenever you want. Love you!

  She didn’t bother going back to the inbox, waiting for his reply.

  Love you too, sweetie. I’ll be taking you up on that offer. I’ll catch you later, heading off to bingo. My neighbor from across the hall has been bugging the crap out of me to go with her. Maybe I’ll get laid tonight. ;O

  She stifled another scream of laughter. He was too much. This time when she clicked back to the inbox she continued through her mail, and that’s when she noticed a message received a little after one a.m. that morning with a subject line of Biding My Time from someone with the initials DF.

  Her breath caught in her throat as a chill washed over her. With her finger hovering over her mouse, she hesitated. As her pulse surged and her intuition screamed, she swallowed and tried to call out.

  “Del!” When she realized it barely sounded louder than a whisper, she called out louder. “Del!”

  Seconds later, he hit the bedroom door at a run, flinging it open before he raced into the office with John on his heels, both men naked. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

  She pointed at the email and stood on shaky legs so John could slide into her seat.

  “You didn’t open it yet?” John asked.

  “No. I know it’s from him though. It has to be.”

  John looked up at Del, who grimly nodded.

  John clicked on the message.

  Oh, my sweet little night owl, how I long to hear you sing.

  The things you’ve seen can only hint

  at the dark thoughts lingering inside my soul.

  One night soon, you shall take wing,

  And in the light of the moon my blade will glint

  before I burrow into your little hole.

  There will always be another dead moon rising. See you then.

  Your Dark Friend

  “What the fuck does that mean?” Del growled.

  John sat back as he read the message. “It means he thinks he’s smart.”

  “That doesn’t even rhyme!” Del protested.

  “Yes it does,” she whispered, pointing out the lines. “A-B-C, A-B-C.” Despite the chills it gave her, she read the message again. “What does that mean, ‘dead moon rising’?”

  Del shook his head. “He kills on the new moon. The son of a bitch is playing games with us, and he knows we don’t have any clues.”

  John clicked on the show details option and pushed the rolling chair over to his own computer. He woke it from sleep mode and his fingers flew across the keyboard.

  “Babe, read me off the IP address in the header.”

  Del slipped his arm around her waist as she leaned in and read the IP numbers to John.

  A moment later, he shook his head. “It’s showing an ISP out of Russia. That means he’s using a spoofing program. If he’s that smart, tracking him’s going to be damn near impossible.”

  Del scratched his head. “So much for my plans for us for today.” He headed for the office doorway.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I need my phone. I have to call my boss and tell him about this so the tech guys can get to work on it. What I want to know is how the fuck did he find out who she is to get her email address?” He turned at the doorway. “I’ll join you two in the shower in a few minutes.” He disappeared.

  She felt the tears and couldn’t hold them back. She’d felt so good, so safe. That this evil man could touch her here, within the fortress of love and security Del and John provided for her, shattered any semblance of normality she’d established since her arrival.

  John stood and wrapped his arms around her. She let him hold her, her head resting on his shoulder. “How did he get my private email?”

  “Who has it?”

  She shook her head. “My friends, family, only a couple of my clients who are also friends.”

  “It’s not on your website anywhere?”

  “It was on my old website, but that was a few years ago. I doubt there’s a cached copy that old floating around search engines anywhere.”

  “What about a blog?”

  “No—” She stopped.

  “What?”

  She closed her eyes and groaned. �
��MySpace. I have a MySpace account. I haven’t updated it in months, and I think it’s still set so anyone can see my info. I used to use it for personal and business stuff to try to reach more clients.”

  “Check and see.”

  She slid into his chair and used his computer to log on. “I’m too stupid to live. I deserve for this asshole to kill me.” There was her email address. She quickly changed her settings to remove it and lock down the privacy settings. Not that it would do any good now.

  He gripped her shoulders. “Stop. You can’t think of everything, babe.” He rubbed her neck muscles. “But maybe this is a good thing.”

  She whirled around. “Good? How the fuck is this good?”

  He smirked. “Drawing him out. He’ll make a mistake eventually. He wants to bait you? Fine. What he doesn’t know is we’re sitting there with the trap set for him.”

  * * * *

  Del joined them in the shower. The men tried to soothe her nerves, but she knew nothing would help in that way until the asshole was caught. After they dressed, Del motioned her over to the basement door around the corner from the kitchen. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

  He led her downstairs, followed by John, who’d grabbed one of his canes.

  “What?” She’d been in the basement several times, because that’s where the washer and dryer were located. She wouldn’t let John make the trip down the stairs with his bad leg more often than necessary.

  “Over here.” Del led her to the far corner of the basement, where a locked metal storage cabinet sat against the wall. “We haven’t shown you this yet, because in all honesty, we forgot.” He reached around the far side of the cabinet, where she couldn’t see, and did something. With a soft click, the cabinet silently swung out on its hinges, revealing the thick, heavy steel door it was attached to. Behind it lay a small, dark room.

  Del closed it and motioned her over. “Right here.” He flipped up a small access panel that blended in with the rest of the wood paneling lining the walls. Underneath was a keypad. “0-6-2-4, then hit the pound sign.” He demonstrated, and again the doorway silently swung open.

  “What’s the number mean?”

  “It’s our anniversary,” John said with a smile. “June twenty-fourth, the first time we ever went out.” He stepped inside and snapped the cord on a bare-bulb fixture in the ceiling. It dimly illuminated the small room, which contained several gallon jugs of water, some non-perishable snacks, and a few other items. A large, heavy metal cabinet took up one corner of the room.

  “What’s it for?” she asked as she stepped in after John.

  “Well, remember, way back when, there were missile silos all over the place in this part of the country. Cold War bullshit. It wasn’t uncommon for people to build houses with bomb shelters.”

  Del stepped in. “Being the enterprising cops we are, we converted it into our gun locker-slash-storm shelter. We’ve never had to use it as a storm shelter, fortunately, but the walls are three feet thick.” He pointed to a latch on the back side of the door. “You won’t get locked in, you just open it there.” He pointed to a flat piece of metal propped in the corner. “You could fit that in these brackets here”—he pointed to them on the door—“and no one’s prying that door open. It’s fireproof in here, so we added a little extra insurance and installed a fireproof gun locker and filing cabinet.”

  Del stepped across the room and spun the combination dial. “Start by going to the right. 06-24-12-17. Our anniversary, the day of his birthday, August twelfth, and mine, March seventeenth.” He spun the dial back and forth, and it opened. Inside were several rifles, handguns, and boxes of ammo, as well as several drawers which she supposed contained papers.

  “I keep some of my computer backup tapes in here too,” John said. “Rotate them out every week.”

  A shiver ran up her spine. “Why show me now?”

  Del gently caught her wrists in his hands and brought them up to his lips. “Babe, we don’t care how silly it might seem, but if for some reason you ever think you’re in danger, you come down here and lock yourself in. Okay?” He pointed to several battery-operated LED lanterns on top of a plastic storage bin. “You’ll have light, food, water. You could be safe in here for days if you had to be.”

  “Where will you two be?” She felt the hysteria threatening to creep into her voice.

  So did Del, apparently. He pulled her to him. “Shh, I didn’t mean you’d have to be in here that long. Like if John goes to the store or the post office or something and you’re here alone, whatever. You come down here if you hear a noise you don’t like, and you lock yourself in.”

  “How do I know if you’re home?”

  “Oh, babe, trust me, if you’re not in the house, this’ll be the first place we look. Just don’t bar the door and we can get in.” He pointed to a small LED indicator mounted approximately behind where the keypad panel would be located on the outside. “See how it’s green? That means the last access attempt was good. On the off chance someone did manage to discover the lock panel, if they didn’t know the right combination, they couldn’t get in. And the light would be red. It’s only green when it’s the right code.”

  “What if it’s red?” she whispered. “What if someone finds me and tries to get in?”

  John stepped over and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Babe, every weapon in that locker is fully loaded and ready to fire. You’d grab them, flip the safety off, and sit back against the wall and wait for someone to rescue you. They’d need a fucking swat team to get past that firepower.”

  “But,” Del reassured her, “it will not get to that. Okay? I just want you to know that no matter what, you’re safe. Got it?”

  She let them hold her even as her sense of security slowly drained from her. It wouldn’t fully return until that monster was behind bars. “Got it,” she said.

  * * * *

  After several hours meeting with investigators, she was told not to shut down her Gmail account despite that being her first instinct.

  “It’s the only lead we’ve got,” Bill Maddison, one of their computer techs said. “We’ll keep monitoring it. Maybe he’ll email you again.”

  Heat washed through her face. She needed to get that message from Uncle Eddie deleted ASAP.

  Unless, of course, the investigators had already read it.

  “You can set up a new account, of course,” Maddison said, “and privately notify your friends and family to use that account.”

  She nodded, unable to look at him.

  By the time they returned home, she felt exhausted and on edge. The bastard had invaded her safe sanctuary, shredding her peace of mind.

  John sat on the couch and pulled her down onto his lap. She’d noticed he’d been hurting all afternoon, his limp more pronounced than usual. “Don’t let this get to you, sweetheart,” he tried to reassure her. “He can’t hurt you. We’ll keep you safe.”

  She snuggled tightly in his arms. “Who keeps you two safe for me?”

  He buried his face in her hair. “Don’t worry about us. You just enjoy being spoiled rotten by us.”

  She did feel spoiled rotten.

  Del had changed out of his uniform and returned to sit on the couch next to them. “He’s right, sweetie. We’ll take care of you.”

  But could they? She felt the edge of the dark cloud growing, struggling for a foothold in her life. Where the past several days had been filled with fun and love and light, she realized how tenuous that perfection was. How fleeting.

  How fragile.

  Chapter Ten

  She didn’t miss that John now wore his gun inside all the time, and that both men slept with guns in the bedside stands next to them. They took turns silently arising in the middle of the night to pick up a gun and check the house.

  They didn’t know she knew they did that. Whichever man wasn’t wrapped around her is the one who got up, probably in an attempt not to disturb her.

  Ten days passed, and
there were no more emails from her “dark friend.” She could barely remember what it felt like to sleep alone, her existence had so quickly become entwined with that of her men. Del had the day off and stayed home with her while John went to get the oil changed in the Explorer and go grocery shopping. She’d offered to go with him until she realized where he’d be.

  And since her car was still there at Davies’ Repair, she didn’t want any part of it.

  No leads developed from running the VIN number of the Ford Ranger, and she insisted her reaction had to be the truck’s close proximity to her car and the truck and RV, nothing more. If the Ranger had been stored there for a while, she was only reacting to whatever energy it had absorbed from the other vehicles.

  She still didn’t want it.

  Uncle Eddie wanted to know why she had to change email accounts, and she told him the truth, that the killer had managed to get her email. He started grumbling about her coming to Miami again, offering to fly out to get her, but she gently rebuffed him. She didn’t want to go to Miami.

  She wanted to stay in Mitchell, with her men.

  Del knocked on the office doorway, prompting her to remove her earbuds and turn to him. “Yeah?”

  “You want to go out to eat tonight? We’ve all sort of been cooped up here.”

  “All three of us?”

  He looked a little confused by her question. “Uh, yeah. John would have my head if I left him behind, and I don’t mean the one on my shoulders.” He grinned.

  She rolled her eyes, but still smiled. “I meant what will people say?”

  Del shrugged. “I don’t know. Were you planning on going dressed as a stripper or something?” He stepped over to her and pulled her from the chair so he could sit and drag her back onto his lap. “Honey, we live a quiet life here. What we do behind closed doors, just like when it was only John and me, is no one’s business.” He kissed her. “You ashamed to be out with us?” he quietly asked, startling her.