Dirty & Dangerous

by Shayla Black

  Oh, shit! Tight and hot, Cam’s ass had a grip on his dick guaranteed to rip away his self-control in about two-point-two seconds. The hard swell of Cam’s prostate dragged over the most sensitive places. How the fuck was he supposed to last through this?

  Gingerly, he withdrew, then eased in again. His assessment didn’t change. If anything, his brain just fried more. And Cam, so responsive, tensed underneath him, moaning, hips bobbing. Brenna gasped, and Thorn smiled. Nice to know his impromptu plan was likely to work.

  Sliding in to the hilt again, Thorn leaned over Cam, plastering his chest to the man’s back. He slid the silky dark hair away from his ear. “Ready to fuck?”

  Cam shuddered, and Thorn saw his eyes close. “Yeah.”

  Thorn reached down to Brenna, petted her shoulder, cupped her breast. “You?”

  She whimpered and nodded frantically.

  “Good. I’m driving the bus, kids. Hang on for the ride.”

  With that, Thorn eased back, nearly to the head, before shoving back inside Cam again. His thrust pushed the detective into Brenna, who gasped and dug her nails into Cam’s shoulders. God, it was good. Mind-bogglingly good. Beyond-known-language good. This was going to be a fast and furious ride. No way to prolong something this sensational.

  Better to just enjoy while it lasted.

  Pulling back again, Thorn thrust hard, deep, again and again. Without pause. Without mercy. He filled his hands with Cam’s hips, sweat breaking out across his body. Around him, Cam tightened, his body tensed. As his pulse jumped, Thorn could feel it in the sheath of the body around him, beating at his dick, his self-control. Under Cam, Brenna was groaning, flushing, as every demanding entry bled into the next in a furious rhythm that left everyone breathless.

  Cam lowered his head to Brenna and devoured her mouth. Brenna’s hands sank into Cam’s hair, and he could see the desperation in her touch. It was more arousing than he’d imagined. The whole scene was. Damn, he was about to lose it—and refused to do it before the others.

  Shifting his hips, Thorn changed his angle, focusing on the little bead of Cam’s prostate. The detective’s head rolled back on his neck. His shoulders strained. He let out a growl and his hands latched onto Brenna like a life raft in a raging current.

  Thank fuck, because Thorn could feel the heat rising like flares off the sun’s surface. Desire brewed and bubbled in his belly, in his balls. The need to come was a hot pressure, gripping him tighter and tighter. Sweat trickled down his face, between his shoulder blades.

  If he didn’t act fast, he was going to lose it first.

  Reaching under Cam, Thorn found Brenna’s clit. Slick, swollen, begging—and if her gasp was anything to go by—very sensitive.

  He rubbed her, the friction of his fingers over the bundle of nerves designed for maximum impact. Not too hard or too soft, but enough to drive her past the point of no return.

  Brenna began to moan and thrash, her head swinging from side to side as she grew more urgent, her body tensing, clasping, ready…

  “Oh…oh, shit,” Cam groaned. “Fuck!”

  Brenna let out a long wail, the echo of her cry of ecstasy bouncing off the walls. Like a house of cards, Cam tensed next, his passage tightening and fluttering around Thorn’s cock as the man let out labored breath after labored breath.

  Then Cam’s entire body seized up and released with a long cry that mingled with Brenna’s. Part plea, part benediction, the sound, coupled with the thunder of his own blood in his ears, crushed the last of Thorn’s resistance. The grasping clasp of Cam’s body on him was tight and unavoidable and one of the most amazing things he’d ever felt in his life.

  Locked deep inside Cam, need boiled up inside Thorn and spilled over in a scalding rush of sensation. With a throaty cry, the gush of pleasure flamed inside him, so unique and amazing, Thorn swore he’d never felt anything quite like it. Being with the two of them—in every way—was simply life altering.

  But neither of them moved, said a word. What if they didn’t feel the same?

  Chapter Eleven

  After showers all around, Brenna wandered into the kitchen in one of Cam’s oversized T-shirts and baggy sweat shorts that barely fit, thanks to the drawstring practically dangling to her knees. She watched Thorn prowl through the refrigerator. Cam approached her from behind and dropped a kiss on her shoulder, then peeked around her to look at the available chow.

  Watching them, she bit her lip. When had they both become so dear to her? Who would have ever imagined that she’d come to love men who broke into her house in the middle of the night and used her pleasure against her to find her father?

  With just a handful of days left until her father’s trial, she had to wonder what would happen after that. The sex between the three of them was so intense…felt so important not just to her body but her heart. When she saw the looks on their faces deep in the midst of pleasure, she could swear they felt the same. But now? They stared into the refrigerator as if nothing was more important than an afternoon snack.

  Maybe she should just feed them, then ask where the hell this unusual relationship was going. They might not care that she loved them—Cam, for his sharp yet sensitive side, Thorn for the gruff front that hid a wealth of goodness in his heart. But if she told them how she felt and they rejected her, at least she’d know. Better than leaving, wondering if things would have ended differently if she’d just spoken up.

  “Oh, let me.” Brenna shouldered her way past them and grabbed some chicken breasts out of the refrigerator. Sour cream and milk came next, then fresh broccoli and mushrooms. She deposited all that near the stove, grabbed a few spices and some pasta from the pantry. She could make something out of this.

  “What—?”

  Brenna held up a hand to stave Cam’s question off. “You want to eat, let me do my thing.”

  “Let me help you. I can cook.”

  “I can cook better and faster all by myself.”

  As she clattered around the kitchen and took out a pan and a bowl, the doorbell rang.

  Everyone in the kitchen froze, then Cam darted into action, running for the door. Everyone followed. Brenna hadn’t noticed weapons on them earlier, but both men drew their guns.

  Cam looked through the peephole. “Shit.”

  Before she could question him, he threw the door wide open. In the October chill, a lone man in black stood there, looking nervously over her shoulder.

  “Curtis?” she choked.

  He nodded and charged into the house, slamming the door and locking it behind him. He reached for her, one hand digging around her arm.

  Thorn pulled him away with a growl. “You want to keep your balls attached to your body, you don’t grab her.”

  “She’s my daughter.”

  “Who you’ve never been much of a father to,” Cam pointed out. “Why are you here?”

  Curtis’s shrewd gaze darted between the two half-dressed men and her clad only in a man’s shirt and drew some accurate conclusions. Surprise skittered across his face. But he also looked dirty and tired and hungry. Strained. Whatever he’d been about to say regarding the choices in her love life, he swallowed.

  “I got your message. Someone came for you?”

  “How did you get my address?” Cam demanded.

  “Got a buddy of mine to hack into state records and get your license plate number. Then he ran it.”

  Cameron swore and shook his head.

  Curtis couldn’t have cared less. “Tell me who came looking for you.”

  Thorn let Curtis go, but placed his body between hers and her father’s. Brenna tried not to be touched but that was impossible. He really was so protective and caring in his growly way.

  “She’s not on a first-name basis with them, asshole,” Thorn answered. “Two goons tried to abduct her at your little mountain love shack. You know, the one where you keep the girlfriends her age you like to inflict pain on.”

  Curtis had the good grace to wince. “I didn’t think
Julio knew about the place. Or that I had a daughter. I thought she’d be safe there until after the trial.”

  “Oh, come on. Julio makes it his business to know everything about everyone involved with him. They had to know.”

  Curtis turned white. “I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

  “You’ve been a fuck-up her whole life,” Thorn accused.

  “I know.”

  “And nothing has changed.” Brenna frowned, confusion and pain sliding through her. “I came to Arizona to talk to you about why you just left me.”

  “Look, now isn’t the best time…”

  “It never is!”

  Curtis raked a pale hand through short, graying hair. “I knew your aunt and her husband would raise you better than I could. Hell, when you were born, I was already ass deep in trouble. I’ve been in prison twice since you were a toddler. You didn’t know that, did you? Your aunt kept it from you. Honey, I’m just bad. I don’t know any other way of life now. If I hadn’t given you up, you would have gone into foster care, and who knows what would have happened to you then. I cared for you the best way I knew how.”

  Which wasn’t much. Curtis had always been about Curtis, and that would never change. “You forgot most every birthday.”

  “I thought of you July seventh of every year.”

  So he did know her birthday. “And nearly every Christmas.”

  “Who do you think sent your aunt that Santa Claus money when you were a kid? I know it doesn’t make up for my absence—”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “And maybe we’re just broken. Maybe it will never be repaired. I didn’t know how to be a father or how to care until you were too old for me to just waltz back into your life. I’m sorry. It’s in the past, and I can’t fix it. Right now, I just want to keep you alive.” He turned to Cam, glanced at Thorn. “I’m being followed.”

  “Marco’s men?”

  “I’m sure of it. The feds are easy to spot. They stick out like stink on shit wherever I go.”

  “Why trust us?” Cam asked.

  “I can tell by the way you’re treating Brenna that you’re not going to do anything that would hurt her. She may be pissed at me, but throwing me to Marco’s wolves would devastate her.”

  It was true. Brenna didn’t bother to refute him.

  Cam leaned in. “I would have protected you from the start if you’d let me.”

  Curtis rolled his eyes. “You don’t get it. Marco has eyes, ears, and guns everywhere. You’re crazy, Detective, if you think that you and a few uniforms could keep him from offing me. I overheard Marco’s men say they knew Brenna was here and they were going to nab her and use her to bring me out of hiding. I had to head them off. We’ve got to get out of here now.”

  With a curse, Cam reached for his cell phone. “Let me get backup.”

  Thorn glanced out the window. “Too late.”

  Gun drawn, Cam charged toward the back door and lifted the blinds a fraction. And swore.

  “They’re here?” Her voice shook every bit as much as her insides.

  Cam nodded grimly and punched a few buttons on his cell phone. In less than ten words, he’d managed to call for help.

  There was going to be shooting, blood, and death. She could feel it. Brenna tried not to panic, but what did a waitress with a few college credits from the lazy city of Muenster, Texas, know about gun battles? Nothing at all.

  “Brenna is most important. We get her out safely, no matter what,” Cam said.

  “Absolutely,” Thorn said.

  Her father nodded in agreement.

  The detective groped around on a nearby counter and found his car keys, then tossed them to Thorn. “Get her in the car and get ready. We’re going to lure them in the house. When we do, get the hell out of here. Hide her on the floorboards. Don’t let them take cheap shots at her through the windows.”

  Thorn looked like he wanted to argue, but one look at Brenna’s face and he swallowed it. “We’ll go. How soon before your boys arrive, Cam?”

  “Less than five.”

  With a grim nod, Thorn took her by the hand and clapped Cam on the shoulder. “Call us when it’s over.”

  Tears welled in Brenna’s eyes. They couldn’t just leave Cam to a fairly certain death. “I won’t go.”

  “Please.” Cam stroked her cheek. “Please. It would kill me if you were hurt. I love you.”

  She gasped. Really? Truly? “I love you, too. I would die if something happened—”

  He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, stopping her words. “Shh. Go with Thorn. He’ll keep you safe. I do this all the time. I’ll be fine.”

  Thorn stepped up to Cam. “Man, I—”

  “Later. We’ll hash it out later.”

  If there was a later.

  Thorn sighed. “You always were a heroic son of a bitch. You’re the best friend I’ve got.”

  Surprise rolled through Cam’s dark eyes. “I’m more than that.”

  Thorn didn’t look away or flinch from the truth. “Yeah.”

  Cam shoved them toward the garage door. “Go.”

  Thorn dragged Brenna away—only to be stopped by Curtis’s embrace.

  “Take care, little girl.”

  Brenna paused. She’d spent years—decades—infuriated with this man who’d stayed around only long enough to sire her and drop her on her aunt’s doorstep. At times she’d wondered if she hated him. She’d rehearsed speeches through the years designed to tell him with razor perfection how much she loathed him and had no respect for his behavior.

  But in what could be the last moments for any or all of them, the speeches and hatred flew out of her head. “You came back to make sure I was okay.”

  That fact astounded her. Somewhere, somehow, in his way, he actually cared.

  He nodded, looking every one of his fifty-six years. “I don’t want you to pay for my sins.”

  “Company is closing in fast, boys and girls,” Thorn growled as he stared out the window through the crack between the curtains. “Let’s go.”

  The bounty hunter jerked on her arm and led her out of the kitchen and toward the garage. Heart pumping, hurting, she looked back to find Cam handing her father a weapon and loading another.

  God, please let them be okay.

  They didn’t make it to the garage door before two hired guns crashed through Cam’s back window in a hail of shattered glass. They landed on their feet, and one kicked out, knocking the gun from her father’s hand.

  Thorn shoved her behind him and around a corner, into the laundry room between the kitchen and the garage, with a terrible curse. “Stay.”

  Their eyes met, and his told her that he’d defend her to the death. Solemn. Heavy. Concerned.

  Then he was gone, still blocking the doorway but edging closer to Cameron.

  “Curtis,” one of them said in mock friendliness as he straightened his shades. “You’ve been hard to find. Mr. Marco would like a few words with you.”

  No doubt, he was one cold dude. An assassin who would think nothing of pulling the trigger. Brenna could tell just by looking at his craggy face and piercing eyes. Peering between the crack in the door, she saw her father shudder in fear.

  “MacIntyre,” her father began. “I—”

  “You got no excuses. Come with us quietly.”

  “You’re not taking my witness,” Cam vowed.

  He and Thorn both eased near her father, weapons drawn. They looked big and fearless and invincible, but she knew one bullet could change everything.

  Marco’s goon gave her lovers a quick once-over. “Put your weapons down.”

  “Fuck off,” Thorn spat.

  She saw the hired gun look in her direction.

  And felt the barrel of a gun against the back of her head a moment later.

  Cold fear gripped her as a rough hand dragged her to her feet and shoved her into the kitchen.

  “Let’s try this again. Put your weapons down now or your mutual girlfriend will be missing
the back half of her skull in two seconds.”

  Cam cursed and dropped his to the hardwood floor.

  Thorn gritted his teeth, and a thousand regrets seemed to cross his face before he did the same.

  “Splendid. The three of you gave a great peep show through the bedroom window.”

  Brenna could just hear the smarmy tone, and it made her want to claw his eyes out.

  “Let her go, Marco,” Cam said through gritted teeth. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

  Marco? As in Julio Marco? Brenna risked a glance over her shoulder to find one mean asshole, complete with soulless dark eyes and a scar from temple to jaw. His crooked nose and pierced lip didn’t give her the warm fuzzies either.

  Marco looked at Cam like he was an insect. “Don’t be stupid, Martinez. And no more of your standard lines or I’ll just shoot her for the pleasure of crushing you.”

  Brenna gasped as his words injected cold fear into her bloodstream. He’d do it. That whip-sharp voice told her so.

  “Curtis,” Marco continued, “Are you willing to come with us now or do we need to demonstrate on your daughter what we’ll do to you if you fail to cooperate?”

  “I’ll go.”

  “No!” Brenna gasped. If he stayed, maybe they had a chance. Backup was on the way. As long as he was here, there was hope. If Curtis left…she knew she’d never see him again. “He’ll kill you.”

  Curtis sent her a gaze filled with regret, his hazel eyes so like her own. “Better me than you.”

  A moment later, a shot rang out. Brenna barely heard a whistle of a sound when one of Marco’s assassins not two feet from her fell to the ground, a bloom of blood spreading across his chest. Police backup!

  Marco and the other goon searched frantically for the source of the shots. They’d come through the smashed-in back window, but from trees? Bushes? She didn’t know. And Marco didn’t seem inclined to stay and find out.

  “We’ve got to get the fuck out of here!” Marco hollered.

  He kept his gun trained on her and placed her directly in front of him, like a human shield. The other assassin, MacIntyre, ducked behind the kitchen island.