Trouble in Miami [Trouble, Tennessee 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Natalie Acres

  “Protection?” She caressed his lips with hers. “Then this is all the better, Draegan.”

  His heart clamored away then and he thought of the possibilities of starting a family with Serena. They had discussed having children but it always came down to planning parenthood, who the first father would be and how they’d go about ensuring there weren’t any accidents. They wanted their children to know that, regardless of their situation, they were wanted and each father had been aware of what had taken place at the time.

  “I want to make a baby with you,” he whispered against her lips, feeling her smile into their kiss.

  “I want you to make a baby with me,” she whispered right back, squeezing around his shaft.

  In a somewhat awkward position, he didn’t have much hope of leading the good fuck, a wild and rambunctious kind of activity. Instead, he was trapped under her, a willing participant who could only provide the seat for the woman riding him.

  The plane started its descent and the turbulence rocked the aircraft. For a few minutes, their bodies were thrown one way or another thanks to the forces of nature looking out for them.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Draegan rasped, thrusting his hips up and loving the way she clung to his shaft and jammed her cunt on his cock. “God bless, I need to, baby.”

  “You need to what?” She lifted her shirt and jiggled her shoulders.

  One sight of those glorious knockers and he was a goner. He buried his head in her cleavage, his tongue working over one mound and then the next as his cock thrummed inside her.

  God bless. He was five or six strokes from blowing!

  His balls were tortured and sensitive. He was read to shoot. And right when things couldn’t have burned any hotter, Markie squealed and fucked up everything.

  Chapter Three

  “What the hell is the matter?” Mac stood abruptly. He looked mad and just plain mean.

  Draegan didn’t have to guess why. Sable typically had a bed full of men. Since Mac and Sable were seated together for the flight, he was probably enjoying a hand job or a blowjob, something pretty doggone interesting if he’d left his seat in the middle of a rough landing.

  “Please sit down!” Facing them, the flight attendant bent forward from her service seat. “Sir! You must be buckled in for the final descent. We’re landing now!”

  “Well no shit,” Mac said, stalking Markie. “What’s the damn problem now, Markie?”

  Allister and Gabe were closer to the front. They were standing then, too.

  “What’s going on?” Serena asked, trying to reassemble her crumpled skirt and wrinkled top.

  Draegan stuffed his dick in his pants and leaned over, trying to see Markie. Other passengers were hanging sideways as well in an effort to find out what was happening.

  “It was a mouse!” Markie indicated how long with his hands. If he’d seen a rodent—and that was a big if—then he was probably way off on size. His measurements would’ve had everyone on the plane believing a huge wolf rat was roaming the aircraft at will.

  “Markie,” Mac grated out, scanning the floor. “This better be real.”

  “It is!” Markie wailed, throwing his arms over his head and ducking.

  All Draegan could see was a patch of Markie’s white cotton top. Mac stalked forward a few feet, searching for the varmint.

  The flight attendant met him halfway. “Sir, you need to return to your seat.”

  “My friend says he saw a mouse.”

  “We’ve never had a problem with mice,” she assured him, glowering over Markie. “Please. We’ll be on the ground in three or four minutes. You must follow protocol.”

  Mac soon reclaimed his spot, throwing his arm high enough to suggest he was curving it around Serena and settling in for the duration of the flight. He glanced over his shoulder long enough to meet Draegan’s gaze.

  “I’m gonna kill him,” Mac mouthed.

  Serena gripped the seatback in front of her. “Stand in line.”

  There wasn’t a doubt in Draegan’s mind. Markie had staged the whole thing.

  Markie slowly turned then and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. He waggled his fingers in Draegan’s direction and winked. “I’m all settled in now, fellas. It may have been one of those terrible day-mares I have sometimes. We’re all good here.”

  * * * *

  “Where is he?” Draegan marched in the restroom like a man ready for a fight. “Markie! Come out and face me like a man!”

  “Day-mares,” Mac grumbled.

  Draegan sneered. “I’ll give him a day-mare.”

  “Hang on there, Draegan.” Harley attempted to run interference but he knew before he tried, it was a wasted effort. “Maybe he thought he saw a mouse. He’s terrified of anything that squeals.”

  “I’m beginning to understand how that’s possible,” Draegan said in a matter of fact tone. “Markie! Now!”

  “Weren’t you seated next to him?” Mac asked, clearly pissed, too.

  “I slept from Tri-Cities to Atlanta,” Harley said. “If you’re looking for someone to blame, look another way, man. I woke up about the time Markie screamed.”

  “Did not.” Markie pranced out of the end stall and grinned at Draegan. “And you don’t frighten me in the least, Draegan McCall. You had little to do, fucking Serena right there in the back of the plane where anyone could see.”

  “Dude!” A couple of stoners were standing nearby and suddenly they were interested in the pending conversation. One of them threw his hand up in the air and pointed at it. “Give me nine and a half, man. Banging broads on planes? Way cool.” He bounced his head as if he were listening to beats.

  Markie smirked at the guy. “You just want nine and a half, hon? I could give you ten or eleven.”

  “Try to refrain from soliciting young men for sex in public bathrooms,” Harley said, thinking they’d be lucky to make it to Miami. Before the day was done, there would be cops involved. He could already feel it in his bones.

  Draegan turned away from stoner and company. He jabbed his finger at Markie’s chest. “I’ll remember this, Markie.”

  “You always do, sugar,” Markie said, studying the pothead rolling a joint on the vanity. Prancing over to the fellow in Markie style, he used the sink for a bench and swung his legs back and forth. “Sugar, I’d love to partake. Most of the time, however, I make it my motto to abide by common man’s law.”

  “Common man’s law? What the hell?” Mac shook his head in disbelief.

  “Markie is a legend in his own mind,” Harley reminded him. “I thought you and everyone else knew.”

  “We didn’t offer to spot you anyway, dude,” the cool one said.

  “Where ya from, sweet thang?” Markie asked, fluttering his eyelashes.

  “Would someone tell him to mind his own business?” Draegan walked passed them and went to the urinals.

  Dude was suddenly anything but slurred and stoned. He hissed at Markie like a snake might. “Get lost, nark.”

  “Nark?” Markie waved his forefinger in the young fellow’s face. “Is that any way to talk to your elders?”

  The ring leader of the trio gave Markie a good stare down. “What are you? Like two years older than me?” The other potheads laughed.

  “Come on. Let’s go Markie,” Mac said.

  “Just a second, Mac,” Markie drawled, working a lone digit in front of the punk’s face. “For your information? I’m not a nark. And I’m approaching thirty. You’re nothin’ more than a kid and I was trying to save you since you don’t have the good sense to save yourself.

  “I’m betting you’re from California. Most of those fellas have a brain or two in their heads but apparently you missed out on smarts because you were in the other line buying dope, which is illegal here in the state of Georgia.”

  “He walked on the plane with it,” Harley pointed out.

  “Which means it’s none of our business, Markie,” Mac said, tapping his shoulder.

&
nbsp; “Excuse me?” Markie drawled, giving Mac a pointed look. “I’ll let you know when I’m done here, thank you very much.” He returned to his original focus—swindling dope. “What do you mean by going and frying your brain on something as cheap as pot?”

  “This stuff ain’t cheap, man. It’s the same shit you get down at Back of the House in Miami.”

  “Back of the House? Never heard of the place. And as for that stuff, it looks and smells cheap because it’s skunk weed which gives new meaning to common grass. I could smoke my lawn and get a better buzz.”

  “I see where this is headed,” Allister said, leaving the restroom as soon as he entered.

  “Me, too,” Mac muttered, not budging.

  “I wouldn’t take or give ten dollars either way for it,” Markie said.

  “Pay attention to what he said, boys,” Mac said.

  “Markie,” Harley muttered, pulling his phone free from his pocket. “We’ll be boarding in a few minutes.”

  “Then board without me,” Markie said, painting on a smile.

  “You know what, that’s an excellent idea,” Harley said, releasing a grunt and motioning for Mac. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Curt, Gabe, Bradley, Ryan, and Derek entered the restroom then. “He’s in good hands.”

  “If they’re here, then no one stayed with the girls.” Mac looked frantic. “Let’s go.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll take it off your hands for a buck and a half.” Markie was still wheeling and dealing for weed.

  “Dude, are you nuts?” The fellow licked the rolling paper and paused long enough to add, “Scram!”

  “Not happening,” Markie said, snatching the joint and the lighter.

  “What are you doing?” Draegan smacked Markie on the back of the head. He glanced at the bewildered one who looked like he’d just lost his best friend.

  Completely dumbfounded, the stoner said, “He stole my—”

  “I can see that,” Draegan said, plucking it from Markie’s fingers and throwing the lighter and the joint in the sink. Before anyone turned on the water, the three punks blocked the counter, butting their hips against the basin as if they thought someone in the McCall party would try to wage a war.

  “Grief,” Mac muttered, walking around Harley.

  “Let Draegan deal with him,” Harley said, following him through the terminal.

  “What was up with that?” Mac asked, seemingly concerned.

  “Markie hates to fly.”

  “So he’s what…seeing rats on planes and scoring pot in a public restroom?” Mac threw up his arm. “Come on, Harley. He’s a grown man. He shouldn’t be in an airport bathroom trying to find ganja.”

  “Ganja?” Sable joined them, her gaze working from one man to the next. “What are you two up to now?”

  Harley gave his woman a heated gaze fuck and then slipped his arm around her waist. “Same question, pretty lady. What were you and Mac up to when Markie cried wolf?”

  “Want me to tell you or show you?”

  “Since you’re sitting between us on the next flight, I’ll hold you to the showing.”

  “Forget that,” Mac said, acting all wound up. “She owes me a satisfying finish.”

  “I can handle both of you—anytime, anywhere.”

  Harley stopped abruptly, gaining his bearings. He remembered a club he and Allister had joined the last time they were in Atlanta. The Throne Room, an exclusive club for members only, had some awesome private suites. They were the equivalent to a small New York City boutique hotel room. “How long before boarding?”

  “Oh that’s why I came to find you. There’s a problem with our plane. We’re on an hour delay.” Sable didn’t have a clue, but her announcement was like an unexpected hand job in the middle of an afternoon matinee.

  “Just an hour?” Mac glanced up at the sign pointing to the VIP club. “You thinking what I’m thinking, little brother?”

  “I am, big brother,” Harley said, leading the way.

  Mac’s and Harley’s phones buzzed at the same time. Harley frowned as he read the final part. “Markie burned one with the strangers.”

  Mac immediately typed out a message. Allister’s text hit before Mac could send his. Apparently Allister and Markie were in a war of words.

  “Are you reading all this?” Harley asked, more concerned than amused. “What’s up with Markie these days?”

  Mac shook his head. “No idea.”

  “I may have one, guys,” Sable said. “Markie was traumatized when Vin Vance abducted him. He was beaten, maybe even abused more than we know. He’s coming around, but he’s not quite himself yet.”

  “He keeps saying he needs to get laid,” Mac said. “Maybe that’s what it is.”

  “This goes beyond basic needs, man.” Harley stopped long enough to check the signs, making sure they were headed in the right direction. “Since when does he do drugs in a public place?”

  “Since when does he do drugs at all?” Sable asked. “You guys need to sit him down one on one and find out what happened. He’s been erratic for several weeks now. The women have noticed it. Serena mentioned it to Draegan. I just assumed he had talked to you.”

  “Draegan protects him,” Mac said, looking guilt ridden.

  “Don’t start that shit.” Harley pointed at him. “Markie could’ve died. Yes. He could’ve been tortured and killed and there wouldn’t have been a thing we could’ve done about it, but never forget the most basic underlying truth here. He put himself in a terrible situation. He’s a grown man and knew better.”

  Mac blew out a hard breath. “I don’t want to watch if he’s bent on repeating the same mistakes.”

  Sable squeezed his arm. “You guys should talk to him. Do it while we’re out of Trouble. Spend some guy time with him.”

  “I see where this is going,” Mac said, lifting his head and narrowing his eyes.

  “Someone is looking for a girl’s night out.” Harley removed his membership card from his wallet and stopped in front of the Throne Room. “It’s not happening.”

  “Just think about it,” she said, walking ahead of them as soon as Harley opened the door and held out his arm.

  Harley should’ve told her. He wasn’t the problem. Mac probably wouldn’t let her out of his sight while they were traveling. As for a girl’s night? Allister would croak before he’d let Ellie loose in Miami.

  As soon as they entered the club, Mac said, “There are some things money can always buy.”

  “A quick screw one of them?” Sable asked, cocking her head.

  “Why darlin’, that’s a wonderful idea,” Harley said, flashing his credentials at one of the desk attendants in passing. “Follow me, lover. Oh and Mac? Feel free to wait at the bar.”

  Chapter Four

  In another concourse, Seth Jones placed a call to Wheatfield Prison. After a short wait, his contact there put him in touch with Toms Vance.

  “You got somethin’ for me?”

  “Sure, all of them are dead. Is that fast enough for you?”

  “Don’t jerk me off, man.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time someone has, I’m sure.” He sniffed at the thought. Toms Vance probably deserved everything he’d received in that dingy ten by ten prison cell.

  “I made a list of who was on the plane so I don’t forget anyone. We just landed in Atlanta.”

  “Don’t care about a list. How many?”

  “Looks like fourteen are traveling.”

  “Sounds about right,” Toms said. “Now I’m hopin’ you’ve got some good news to share. Tell me Allister and Draegan McCall, Heather Powers, and Markie—hell I don’t even know his last name but he might as well be a McCall—were on that plane.”

  “They were.” Seth knew why the Vance brothers hated Markie and Allister. They weren’t sure which one killed their brother Rons, but they both had a hand in his death. Allister ran Rons down with a truck and Markie pumped a few shots in his fallen form.

  “Heathens are wha
t they are,” Toms said.

  Seth figured it took one to know one. “Do you have a reason for wanting the women dead?”

  “Ya said ya didn’t care to kill a woman.”

  Seth stilled at the thought. He could put Heather down but after sitting with Ellie on the plane, he cringed at the thought of harming Allister McCall’s woman. She was so alive, so vibrant and real.

  Ellie was a good person and that goodness would always shine through. He liked her. Maybe in another lifetime…well, he couldn’t go there because if he let his mind wander, then he wouldn’t be able to finish his job and incomplete tasks equaled failure.

  Seth wouldn’t fail.

  “Havin’ doubts now. Are ya?” Toms asked, his bitterness strewn through every syllable.

  “Not at all, but call me a sick fuck, I like to taunt the people I meet. Tell me why you want Draegan out of the way.”

  “Why he’s the one who led all those animals to our land in the first place! Brought ’em there with a full understandin’. He knew it would cause a war.

  “They tormented Rons. That’s how come Rons went to Trouble. Went there to settle the score because they’s in the wrong! Do ya hear me?” Toms shouted the last part and Seth tried to translate some of the hick from the Southern.

  Deciding he had the gist of what Toms wanted conveyed, Seth said, “All right. Let’s talk business. Tell me about Heather.”

  “If that girl had never stepped foot on my property, me and my brothers wouldn’t be locked up and the ones rottin’ would still be a-livin’. She started all this and I want her to pay more than any other. You got that part. Right?”

  “I hear you, Toms,” Seth said, going along with pretty much everything. “What do you know about her boyfriends?”

  “Fuck that shit,” Toms groaned.

  “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

  “Gabe Reynolds is a possessive fuck. I would’ve had her in the grave long before now if it hadn’t been for him.”

  “Curt Caldwell is also with her.”

  “Curt ain’t the cocked gun.”

  “I see,” Seth said, taking mental notes. “Well I hope to settle in tonight and make nice with the ladies.”