by Avery Gale
Paris didn’t know her sister was already home, sleeping peacefully less than a mile away. The Monroe’s arrived home late last night, and both London’s husbands had been adamant she rest before visiting her sister. When London tried to argue, Eli had simply called the tunnel and left instructions his lovely wife was not to be allowed access to a cart. “That’s not fair, you know I can’t walk that far.” Even the stamp of her small foot wasn’t enough to counter the dark circles under her eyes.
“I am not limited by the parameters of fair, Princess. You and the child you are carrying are my priority. If you will stop and think about it, you’ll see I’m right. You are already exhausted—you wouldn’t enjoy the visit, and you’d worry your sister.” Trinity had watched the scene play out on a large monitor in Evan’s former home office, grateful when Evan hustled their tired mate off to bed.
Refocusing his attention on Paris, he debated how long he should allow her to worry before baling her out. “Trouble, Paris?” He saw her bite her lip before she turned to glare at him.
There she is, the spitfire who caught my attention. Damn, I’ve missed her.
Chapter Eight
David Lamb stood next to his mother, smiling as photographers snapped their picture. It had been just the two of them since a climbing accident claimed his father a few days after David’s high school graduation. The climbing expedition had been a gift from David’s mother, and he’d always wondered if she hadn’t set the whole thing up. Blinking to bring himself back to the moment, David continued smiling as the cameras whirled.
The message David received a few minutes ago enraged him, but he’d carefully schooled his expression. Learning his own mother had sent men to spy on Paris infuriated him. David knew too well the Gestapo techniques she and her minions could employ. She would have no regard for Paris’ safety or reputation.
It wouldn’t take Austin or Israel Adler long to figure out who was calling the shots. Hell, his mother’s team had even gotten a court order to tap Paris’ phone, citing her as a possible foreign entity attempting to infiltrate Senator Lamb’s inner circle. It was nothing more than pure fiction. Nancy Lamb knew full well Paris wasn’t trying to make her way into her inner circle. Hell, one of the things he admired most about Paris was her disdain for his mother.
David alerted the men he’d left in Massachusetts to watch Paris; if she decided to run, they were going to have another team to contend with. Fucking hell, the more people hanging around that damned small town, the more likely they were to be caught. Fuck, I hope my smile doesn’t look as phony as it feels.
As soon as he realized Paris had run to her family, David had upped the security on his home computer network, watching his accounts for any sign of outside monitoring but hadn’t seen anything suspicious yet. Christ, now he had to redouble his efforts because his damned mother was probably spying on him as well. If he couldn’t get his mom to call off her dogs, David would have to find another way to stop Paris from going through with the charges she’d filed.
For just a moment, he considered pulling something out of his mother’s own bag of tricks—it had always amazed him how anyone standing in Senator Lamb’s way was quickly dispatched. She might be his mother, but David wasn’t a fool—Nancy Lamb was one of the most ruthless people he’d ever known. They’d be having a serious discussion as soon as they were home. He knew better than to confront her in a public place; her security team would intervene, and the resulting scandal would derail whatever agenda she was pushing this week. Fuck, the woman always had an angle and usually a target—David needed to make sure the good Senator didn’t paint a bull’s eye on his back…
Leaning back against the headboard, Luke grinned. “You just keep looking, fucker. You’re only going to see what I want you to see.”
“Who are you talking to? Geez, don’t you ever stop working?” Looking to where his new wife lay beside him, Luke gave her bare ass a stinging swat. “Hey, what the hell? You wake me up talking to an invisible bad guy on your laptop, and I get a swat? Like tying me to the fucking bed, isn’t enough? Geez, you take the cake, you know that? Whatever possessed me to think marrying you was a good idea? Oh yeah, now I remember, it was the promise of wild monkey sex… when’s that supposed to kick in? Because I have to tell you, this laptop in the bed nonsense isn’t cutting it.”
Luke stared at Brooklyn, shocked at what she’d just said. She’d always been a night owl and still liked to get up in the middle of the night to train. After years of working as a retrieval expert for insurers, his lovely cat burglar was having trouble adapting to a more sedate lifestyle. Hell, he couldn’t even keep her in bed without tethering her.
“You’re tied to the bed because it’s the only way I can keep you from sneaking into the gym when you are supposed to be resting.” Until he was convinced Emilio Mendoza’s followers had finally let go of the criminal mastermind’s vendetta, he was keeping her close to home. If one of them had to travel, they went together. Brooklyn had not only stolen a priceless amulet out from under Mendoza’s nose, she’d also exposed his insanity.
Luke closed his laptop before setting it on the bedside table. He would explain what he’d been working on later. For now, Luke wanted his sassy wife focused on the pleasure he could bring her. Brooklyn hadn’t been kidding when she said he’d promised her mind-blowing sex, and despite her snarky remark, he’d more than delivered. She stared at him with glacial blue eyes, challenge floating around her like a cloud.
Luke’s empathic gift had always been well-developed, but since claiming Brooklyn as his own, he’d noticed his ability to connect with people was growing stronger. Her magic was so much more powerful than anyone realized—magnifying his own gifts in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Even B discounted the significance of what the Universe had given her, but he knew she was secretly beginning to worry it might be more than she was ready to handle. The Universe doesn’t make mistakes, baby. If the Great Goddess thinks you’re ready, you most certainly are.
Pushing David Lamb and the cluster-fuck with Paris from his mind wasn’t easy because the man’s obsession with Brooklyn’s youngest sister was growing at an alarming pace. Luke had set up multiple alerts on both the regular and dark internet for every member of the Adler family. When Paris’ name popped up on the campus police dailies, he’d immediately started investigating, and regretted not telling Brooklyn about the trouble Paris was experiencing. Luke didn’t feel B was intentionally holding a grudge, but he was also aware things weren’t the same between them.
His little minx had learned to block him, frustrating Luke more than he was willing to admit. The only time she let down her guard was when she was utterly focused on a task or overwhelmed by pleasure. He’d set up an obstacle/training course for her on the rock face of the mountain he called home and loved listening as her mind spun like a whirling dervish when she scaled the rocky surface. Moving over B—as she’d always been known to family and friends—he pushed the stray tendrils of her hair from her face as he pushed her thighs apart with his knees.
“Wild monkey sex, huh? What do you call what we shared in the playroom yesterday? I could have sworn you were the one screaming loud enough to register on the Richter scale.” Entering her in one smooth thrust, Luke smiled at her sharp gasp. Making a mental note to update her later on David Lamb, Luke focused all his attention on the woman tied to his bed.
It had taken him years to convince her to take a chance and elevate their relationship to a new level. They’d been friends since their freshman year of college and B had always worried sex would ruin their friendship. Perhaps she’d been right in the beginning, but Luke had been ready to take their relationship to a deeper level long before Brooklyn had, and the interminable wait had been pure torture.
Pulling his aching cock out until only the tip remained nestled in her heat, Luke rotated his hips, teasing her, then growled when she strained against the bond, trying to reach for him. Shackling her slender, bound wrists with one hand to keep h
er from bruising herself, Luke set a random pace, varying the depth, intensity, and speed of his thrusts, relishing the way her vaginal muscles contracted, pulling him deeper. He felt their souls lock together in a way they’d never connected before, and his control shattered.
Mine! You’ve always been mine, B.
Paris walked into a small table as she was sneaking through the darkened house. Trinity watched the petite shadow belonging to the woman who claimed his heart hop on one foot, cursing like a drunken sailor. It might have been funny if his palm wasn’t itching to paddle her bare ass. As a shifter, Trinity’s night vision was exponentially better than a non-shifter, so he’d been able to see she was on a collision course with the low table, but warning her would have given him away, and he wasn’t ready to alert her to his presence just yet.
Trinity had known when he told her he was taking a night shift to relieve one of his deputies, Paris would seize the opportunity to run. If there hadn’t been two different teams watching the clinic compound, Trinity would have let the worst escape artist in the history of the world get a few miles down the road before he pulled her over and tossed her defiant little ass in jail.
Donning his uniform, Trinity had watched Paris’ bright blue eyes repeatedly dart to the closet, and the security team confirmed she’d watched from the window until he’d driven through the gate. She’d promptly begun packing, stuffing everything she could into one small suitcase. He’d driven around the compound, reentering from the back, and barely made it back inside in time to see her sneaking down the stairs.
Trinity didn’t care about the damned clothes and toiletries she’d packed. Hell, he didn’t even give a rat’s ass about the short dark wig he hadn’t known she had before seeing the video of her stuffing it into the side pocket of her bag. It was the passport she’d checked before sliding into her purse that was concerning. Fucking hell, if she slips through my fingers and gets out of the country, I might not ever see her again.
The hardest part of following her through the house and into the garage was staying far enough behind. He always wondered how the hell non-shifters coped with not being able to see in the dark—it looked damned unhandy if you asked him.
“What the fucking hell?” Paris cursed softly when she pressed the button to open the garage door, and it remained firmly in place. One of the many security protocols he and the Monroe brothers put into place when Paris returned to “house sit” was to route the garage access through the control center, initiating a procedure that included calling Trinity. Pounding on the button, Trin could feel the frustration coming off her in waves. “This sucker better open or I’m going to drive through it.” He doubted she would actually drive through the door, but with Paris, anything was possible. Shaking his head as she tried to manually lift the solid steel door, Trinity stepped out of the shadows.
Paris sensed another presence and experienced a split second of blinding fear so intense, she leap-frogged fight and rocketed directly into flight mode. Sprinting to the door, she heard a man’s voice cursing, then calling her name, but nothing fully registered except her need to escape. The walk-in door leading to the courtyard was almost within reach when strong hands grasped her upper arms. Paris’ mind went blank, muscle memory kicking into high gear. Spinning out of his hold, she pushed her knee upward, but he turned too quickly for her to make contact. Before she could make another move, strong arms wrapped around her like steel bands.
“Paris, stop. Now! It’s Trinity. You’re safe, baby.” Paris sucked in a breath, ready to scream when the man holding her pressed his lips to hers. Fear spiked, but in the back of her mind, a familiar scent calmed the storm raging through her enough for the cognitive part of her brain to kick back into gear.
“That’s right, baby. It’s Trinity, take a deep breath. Let your instincts take control. Push the distress aside and think. You’re at Evan’s, no one gets in or out of the secured perimeter without my prior approval.” Trinity rubbed his hands in soothing circles over her back and wondered what the fuck she’d experienced to cause such a mind-melting reaction. When she started to shake, he knew she was moments from the mother of all adrenaline crashes.
“Listen to my voice, Paris. Let go of everything but the words. You’re safe with me, sweetheart. Let’s get you back inside, alright?” Trin knew he needed to call Eli, so he’d know Paris was safe; no doubt Seth had already called the pack leader to let him know there’d been an incident in the garage. Looking down into her eyes, Trinity watched the glazed orbs roll back, grateful he already had her in his arms. Before he could open his mouth to speak, she collapsed against him.
“Seth, see if Evan’s still awake.” Trin knew the man working in the control center would have been monitoring the situation and didn’t doubt the younger man was already on the phone with Dr. Evan Monroe. “Ask him to review the infrared camera and advise.” Trinity knew the adrenaline crash would pass, having her faint into his arms wasn’t what alarmed him. The real concern had been her complete loss of awareness during her panic. Paris had obviously learned some defense moves, but she’d been too scattered to make any of them effective.
By the time Trinity returned to the living room with Paris cradled in his arms, her eyes were open, but her deer-in-the-headlights look made it clear she still wasn’t cognizant enough to be left alone. He made a quick detour to the kitchen for a bottle of water before settling her on his lap. Since Trin hadn’t received the call from Evan as expected, he suspected the good doctor was on his way. As he picked up his phone to call Seth, it signaled a new message.
In-coming. ETA five. Dr. E detoured to the clinic for meds.
Seth’s message might have seemed abrupt to an outsider, but Trinity knew Seth had been trained since birth to protect the pack’s secrets. A large part of his job was to keep careful watch over any pack communication utilizing public services, and since Trin didn’t routinely carry one of the secure phones the Monroe brothers used, Seth had been forced to text. Trinity smiled when his phone showed another message, this one from the new Mrs. Monroe.
What did you do? Why is my sister trying to bolt? If you hurt her, baby and I are going to kick your ass as soon as I feel better. What the hell, maybe I’ll just spend time with you. It would serve you right to be stuck with a sick, prego crab. I can’t believe she was going to run away without saying goodbye. Damn, now I’m crying again. Tell my sister to stay put, or I’ll go Nigel on her.
The woman in his arms was shaking, but when he looked down at Paris, he could see her laughing silently, obviously having read the message displayed on his phone.
“Who’s Nigel?”
“Nigel Ratburn. Basically, she’s telling me she is going to rat me out to our brothers and sisters.”
“Nigel Ratburn? That name sounds vaguely familiar.” Paris burst out laughing at his admission, making him even more concerned.
“He’s the teacher in the Arthur books by Marc Brown. There are kids’ books and a television show, but it was the early computer games I loved. It became a code between us, a way of threatening to tattle without our parents asking what had happened. By the time we came along, our mom and dad were so swamped, they were more interested in keeping up with our older brothers and sisters than navigating any bickering among the younger kids.” Trin knew Paris hadn’t heard Evan step into the living room—her lack of awareness of her surroundings was a significant concern.
“I’m worried about London, she told me she was trying to hide how sick she’s been. I hope Eli and Evan are paying attention. Shoot, maybe I’ll go Nigel on her grumpy ass.”
“Not necessary, little sister.” Since Trinity hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights, Paris would only know Evan’s voice had come from somewhere behind them. She screamed, launching off his lap before he could stop her. Tripping over the same low-profile table, she’d run into earlier. Sweetheart, it would save you a lot of pain if you’d make a mental map of where all the damned furniture is.
“Fucking kindling,
I tell you. I’m going to turn that damned table into toothpicks and burn the whole pile in the driveway while I roast penis shaped marshmallows. Only a man would put a table in the middle of a pathway because they never have to hurry through the room with their arms full of groceries or laundry. That table is a menace to society. Evan is a doctor for Goddess’ sake… wait, maybe it’s a way to drum up business… or some sort of primitive alarm. You know… someone manages to get past all the high-tech shit, then this is the last line of defense.”
Several things happened at the same time, and Trinity was left staring—wondering how he’d completely lost control of the situation. Seth’s disembodied voice blared over the hidden speakers announcing Ian McGregor was on the line and wanted to be patched through. Before Trinity could give Seth permission to connect the call, Paris bent over in front of him to roll up her pant leg. The view of her rounded ass cheeks showcased in a pair of jeans so tight, they looked as though they’d been painted on sent a surge of blood to his cock. Fucking great, just what I need right now, a hard-on from hell. And Dr. Monroe burst out laughing so hard he was leaning against the damned wall.
“Look at this shit. I’m bleeding. There’s a fucking gash in my leg. Fuck a waddler, I’ll probably have to get a frick-fracking tetanus shot. I’d rather buy a ticket on the fucking Titanic than get a shot. Fuck a pink duck in rubber boots.”
A bark of laughter over the speakers let Trinity know Ian McGregor’s call was already connected, and he’d been listening in on Paris’ mini-meltdown.
