Covington, Cara - Love Under Two Strong Men [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  “Adam carries a couple extra rifles in his cruiser,” Jordan said. He’d never been so glad that he’d maintained his marksmanship. He’d fired at targets, moving and stationary, all his life. He’d never fired at a human being before. In fact, he’d often thought that was one thing he’d never be able to bring himself to do.

  It’s funny how things change. Jordan knew that to protect the ones he loved, he could and would do whatever he had to do.

  Adam brought his cruiser to a stop just inside the gates to the airfield. Jordan pulled up alongside him. Waiting for them, Morgan, Henry, and Joe Grant looked grim. Tamara was nowhere in sight.

  Joe stepped toward Adam and held up what Jordan immediately recognized as a badge of some kind.

  “Another Fed,” Adam said dryly.

  “The place is lousy with them lately,” Matt Benedict agreed.

  Jordan raised one eyebrow and looked at Grant. The man shrugged.

  “I’m with the FBI,” he said.

  “You pull babysitting duty?” Peter asked.

  “It’s a long story,” Grant said. “And I understand we have an emergency on our hands?”

  Peter’s cell rang. He yanked it out of his pocket and looked at the display. “No ID, what do you want to bet it’s that little cocksucker?” Peter answered the phone. “Hurt her, you scumbag, and so help me I’ll…” His voice trailed off as he listened. Then the line must have gone dead, because Peter looked at the phone for a moment. He turned, his gaze meeting Jordan’s.

  “He says he has her at the old abandoned farm, and if I want to see her alive, I’m to go there alone. He says I have ten minutes.”

  “You have to know it’s a trap,” Grant said. “The guy is Ramos’s paid assassin. He’s obviously planned this down to the last detail.”

  “He’s not the only one who can pull together a plan,” Peter said. He turned his head to look at Jordan.

  Jordan met Peter’s gaze. “I know that place. The road leading in becomes a dirt road, which ends where the homestead used to be. The building was razed a few years back, along with the small barn that used to be there. That parcel of land originally belonged to the first Adam Kendall. There’s a few hillocks leading toward the place, and a wooded area—a stand of trees and scrub bushes within shooting distance of the end of the road.”

  “How big and how dense is the wooded area? Could a man hide in there if he wanted to?”

  “You mean hide from view? Hell, yes. He could hide there, and shoot from there, no problem. It’ll only take us a couple of minutes to get there,” Jordan said. “And we’re down to seven.”

  “And the sooner I come roaring up, the better,” Peter said. “I know.” Then Peter turned to look at Adam. “Jordan is going to need your best rifle, and I need your cruiser.”

  Adam looked from Jordan to Peter, and then he nodded. “I think I have an idea of what you have in mind.” He walked over to the cruiser and opened the trunk. Inside there were a couple of rifles, including a Barrett REC7. The newest of the assault rifles owned by the Lusty Sheriff’s Department, the Barrett was a rifle Jordan, along with Adam, had tested in Dallas at the police department’s rifle range when the town trust had been considering the acquisition.

  Adam handed the gun and a full magazine to Jordan, and tossed the car keys to Peter. “Make the first shot count,” Adam said.

  Jordan nodded. The first shot had to count, or their entire world might just shatter.

  * * * *

  How long had she been chained out here like a sitting duck? Tracy’s stomach churned with terror, the acid making her queasy.

  She tugged hard with both wrists, hoping beyond hope she could somehow get free of this deadly trap.

  She knew enough about police investigations and the like to understand that Manny couldn’t afford to let her live. If he somehow succeeded in luring Peter out here, if he killed him, he’d have to kill her, too.

  She could testify against him, otherwise.

  Tracy wished she’d stuck a few bobby pins in her hair this morning instead of just catching it up in a hair elastic. She’d never picked a lock before, but at least she would feel as if she was doing something.

  Tracy tugged faster and harder. She heard a snap and wondered if she’d succeeded in breaking one of her wrists. Both were bruised and raw and very sore.

  She looked up to where her hands were caught and swallowed a shout of triumph. The snap she’d heard was one half of one side of the plastic handle pulling loose from the roof of the car. One of the two screws on the end closest to the rear that held the device bolted to the frame had just popped out of the metal. If her efforts had weakened one screw, they could weaken another.

  Tracy blocked out the pain and closed her eyes, giving the hardest, sharpest tugs she could manage. She had to get free, had to warn Peter about this trap. Another crack had her opening her eyes. Yes, it was working! Renewing her efforts she nearly cried at the way her wrists were now oozing blood, feeling as if they were on fire. She had no idea what the hell she would do when—not if—she got free. How far could Manny fire that rifle? How good a shot was he? Maybe she could run in a zigzag pattern…

  She stopped because her vision had blurred with tears. I will not break down. She could cry later, when this was all over. She needed to suck it up. She needed clear vision, so she rubbed the left side of her face against her left shoulder. Her vision cleared, and a glint of metal caught her eye.

  The car keys still dangled from the ignition!

  She gave a mighty tug and the entire ‘oh shit’ handle moved. Tracy blinked away the rest of her tears. One end of the handle was now completely detached from the roof of the car.

  Now what? Should she wait? Duck down, slide over, start the car, throw it in reverse, and step on it? Surely she could get out of gun range in just a few seconds?

  Then she caught motion in the side rearview mirror and knew she’d run out of time. One of the sheriff’s cars approached. The driver wore no hat, and she knew immediately who he was.

  Peter pulled the cruiser up almost even with the Malibu, but angled slightly to the right. Tracy realized that the way he’d positioned the car partially blocked her from Manny’s rifle sights.

  The cruiser’s driver’s window was open. She looked over and met Peter’s gaze. “It’s a trap!”

  “I know, Blondie. Are you all right, sweetheart…fuck, you’re bleeding.”

  “I’m ok. Yes, I’m bleeding, but I got this fucking handle to break. I can move, and the keys are still in it. Just tell me what to do.”

  “Our woman’s pretty gutsy, isn’t she?” Jordan asked.

  Tracy had just barely registered the cruiser’s trunk had been slightly ajar when Peter had driven up. It wasn’t now. She couldn’t see Jordan, but from the sound of it, he was on the ground, under the cruiser.

  “Alvarez, get out of that cop car and stand where I can see you!”

  Manny’s shout, from somewhere ahead in the stand of trees, stabbed fear into her heart.

  “Peter, don’t. He’s got a rifle. He’ll kill you.”

  Peter opened the door of the cruiser and slowly got out of the car. “As soon as I move around the door, you move, Tracy. Slide behind the wheel, start that sucker, and back the hell away. Will you do that for us, sweetheart?”

  Tracy bit back her terror and inhaled deeply. Her first instinct was to refuse. She would be damned if she ran to safety while her men stayed in harm’s way. Then she swallowed. She needed to trust her men to know what they were doing.

  “Okay. Just let me…” She got the handcuffs off the handle, but kept her arms high, in case Manny was watching her. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  “Good girl. We’ll see you in a bit.”

  Peter stood then raised his hands. “Don’t shoot, Manny. Let’s talk.”

  “Aint nothing for us to talk about, asshole.”

  “Now, Tracy!”

  Peter stepped around the door, his gaze centered on the trees. Tracy didn�
��t let herself think. She just did exactly what Peter had told her to do. She lowered her cuffed hands, biting back the pain that caused, and scooted across the seat until she was behind the wheel. She held her breath as she reached for the key and turned it.

  The engine turned over once, twice, then roared to life.

  Tracy ducked down, threw the gearshift in reverse, and stomped on the gas.

  “Hey, no, what the fuck!” The words, Manny’s words, screamed across her ears, fading fast as the car sped in reverse, away from them.

  And then, so close together, so loud, two gunshots exploded into the air.

  Chapter 20

  Tracy slammed on the brakes, not caring that she hit her chin on the steering wheel as she did so. Tears of terror—terror for her men—streamed down her face as she straightened up and stared through the windshield and tried to see what had happened.

  She shoved the shifter into park and threw open the door, cursing the metal that held her wrists and made everything so difficult. It didn’t even occur to her to drive the car to get closer to them. She couldn’t think. She could only react.

  Two men were standing, and a third lay facedown on the ground. Jordan stood, legs slightly apart, his rifle trained on the downed man. As she ran, she knew the one in the dirt was Manny, that her men had the situation under control. But she didn’t know if they were both safe and sound and unhurt.

  She needed to know that more than she needed her next breath.

  “I’ve got him,” she heard Peter say. “After all, I’m the Fed. You need to comfort our woman. She’s crying.”

  Tracy hadn’t realized they could hear her sobs.

  “That’s not all you’ve got, boyfriend. Goddamn it, man, when are you going to learn to not get yourself shot?”

  The sound of a Jeep approaching at high speed barely penetrated. Tracy ran to Peter, Jordan’s words making a horrible kind of sense.

  “No, no, no.” She thought she only whispered the words, but Peter must have heard her because he turned to face her, and the look on his face was a little pained, and a little sheepish.

  He reached for her with his left arm, and pulled her into him. “It’s ok, sweetheart. It’s just a flesh wound, like before. Only it’s my right arm this time.”

  “Just a flesh wound.” Jordan repeated Peter’s words in a not-so-gentle mocking tone. “There’s no such thing as just a flesh wound, lover, not when it’s your flesh.”

  “I stand corrected,” Peter said.

  Tracy burrowed into Peter for a moment, unable to stop the tears now that the danger was over. She’d been so terrified, first for herself, and then for her men. All she could do was cry.

  “Let’s see what we have, here, then.”

  Tracy blinked. That was Adam’s voice as he crouched down beside Manny and felt for a pulse.

  “He’s alive.” He looked over his shoulder. “Matt, call an ambulance for Ramirez, here, and the firehouse boys for our own wounded.”

  Jordan and Peter had put her between them, and were trying to edge the metal of the handcuffs out of the way so they could see her wrists.

  “Wounded? Who the hell’s wounded?” Morgan pushed his way into their small group. His gaze immediately zeroed in on her wrists. “Aw, damn it, sweetheart, look at the mess you’ve made of yourself.”

  Tracy looked at her raw, bleeding wrists for the first time and winced from the biting sting of the damage. Until that moment, she hadn’t really felt the pain. She hadn’t really felt anything since she’d heard those two gunshots.

  Morgan reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a small pocketknife. When he opened it, she saw a long, thin piece of metal protruding up from it.

  “Here, let me,” Morgan said. “I’ll be careful.” Morgan inserted the pick into the keyhole of one cuff, and in less than five seconds it sprang open. He had the other one off in the same amount of time.

  “Thanks.” She didn’t get a chance to really examine the damage because Jordan held one arm and Peter the other.

  “Neat trick, there, brother,” Adam observed. Then he looked up at Peter. “I’m thinking a lifetime’s supply of bandages and slings might make a good birthday gift for you, G-man.”

  “You’re a funny guy, Adam.”

  Tracy laughed despite the tears still flowing down her cheeks. In the distance, the sound of sirens screamed, growing louder as the emergency vehicles approached. She couldn’t examine Peter’s right arm the way she wanted to, but she supposed if he was seriously hurt, Adam wouldn’t have been so glib about it.

  She looked around, more than a little surprised to see the fourth man who’d piled out of Morgan’s Jeep was Joe Grant, sporting a shoulder holster, and a very serious looking handgun.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be painting or something?” she said to him.

  He grinned, and then put his gun into its holster. “Not anymore.”

  “Mr. Grant is apparently with the FBI,” Peter said. “We’ve yet to discover exactly why he’s here. But I have a couple of questions for him.” Peter’s tone held an edge that made Tracy want to shiver. She hoped he never used that tone on her.

  Joe gave Peter what she could only call an irreverent laugh. “Don’t you worry, Alvarez. Most mysteries will be revealed as soon as you and your lady, here, get tended to.”

  Two emergency vehicles sped down the dirt road toward them. The first vehicle was an ambulance. Tracy recognized the second, the red EMT truck from the Lusty Fire Station.

  “Crap, here come my cousins. There’s no hope now that my mother won’t hear about this before I can tell her myself.” Tracy tried to reach up and wipe away the last of her tears. Bad enough for Warren and Edward to see her injured. It would be totally unacceptable for them to see her crying, too.

  Jordan released her arm and cupped her face. He used his thumbs to wipe her tears. “Sweetheart, you did a hell of a thing, first working so hard to free yourself, and then handling that car like a pro. Thank you. You distracted Ramirez just enough that I was able to get my shot off.” He kissed her gently, then stepped back so that Peter could kiss her, too.

  “I’m very proud of you, baby. You did good.” Peter eased back and smiled at her.

  “I want to go home and get naked with you both.”

  Cough-smothered laughter turned Tracy’s cheeks a bright pink. She’d totally forgotten about Adam, Matt, Morgan, and Joe Grant standing so close by.

  Jordan led her and Peter a few steps away from the others, giving them a bit more privacy. Tracy watched as the paramedics, who arrived first, began to work on Manny. Despite the fact the man was unconscious, it seemed clear the cops intended to keep him under guard every moment.

  “I’ll ride with Ramirez to the hospital,” Adam said. “Matt’s going to take your statements.” Then he came over and gave Tracy a kiss on the cheek. “The G-man’s right, honey. You did good.”

  Tracy shook her head. “I got grabbed and nearly got Peter and Jordan killed. You men have a very strange definition of ‘good.’”

  In that moment Tracy had it brought home that even the men she loved and respected could be infuriating sometimes. They all beamed big smiles at her as if humoring her. Their reactions made her want to bare her teeth and growl. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She was usually a very stable person, emotionally. At the moment she felt anything but stable.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” The tears started to leak again, and she gave up on wiping them.

  “Adrenaline crash,” Jordan said.

  “And perfectly normal,” Peter added. Then he leaned over and kissed her again. He lowered his voice. “And trust me. We’ll be where you want us to be as soon as we can. We just have a few things to tend to, first.”

  Warren and Edward Jessop, brothers to each other and cousins to Tracy, came over to them, each hauling a large supply case.

  Warren, the older of the two by a year, took after his fathers, Jackson and Craig Jessop, in both height an
d temperament. Anyone meeting Edward would have no doubt whatsoever he was Anna Jessop’s son, he resembled her that much. They were among Tracy’s favorite Jessop cousins, even if they sometimes were pains in the butt.

  “Him first.”

  “Her first.”

  Tracy giggled because she and Peter had spoken at the same time.

  “I have great news,” Warren said. “For today, and today only, we’re running the family special—two EMTs, no waiting.”

  “And with every family special, for a limited time only, two free passes to the Lusty Clinic, and an on-site, personal evaluation by the Doctors Jessop!” Edward grinned as he began to examine Tracy’s damaged wrists.

  Tracy met Peter’s gaze. “Did anyone think to warn you that the family is teeming with smart-asses?”

  Peter laughed. He looked over at Jordan, then back at her, his eyes twinkling. “Sweetheart, no one had to.”

  * * * *

  Peter wished he could give Tracy what she wanted, which was what he wanted, too—all of them, at home, naked and in bed together. That moment would come, he knew. But first, there was a loose end that needed to be tied up.

  They’d given their statements to Matthew while they were being patched up by the comedy team of Jessop and Jessop. When they were sufficiently bandaged and disinfected, Morgan drove them, and Joe Grant, back to the airstrip.

  Henry and Tamara were in the office of Kendall Aviation. They came rushing out to see them as soon as Morgan pulled up to the building.

  “Again?” Henry’s gaze went to Peter’s right arm, wrapped in a large bandage. “Did you ever think that maybe you’re in the wrong line of work, there, Peter?”

  “What, you think I’d make a better pilot?” Peter knew he’d be in for a lot more teasing as the days passed, and that was fine with him. He would go with Tracy to the clinic, as he promised. But he knew this slight graze wasn’t nearly as bad as the last one had been.

  “God, no. If you get your pilot’s license, I’m going to ground myself.” Henry followed up that smart-ass comment with a light clasp on Peter’s left shoulder. Then he put his attention on Tracy, whom Tamara was fussing over.