Bodyguards: A Twin Menage Romance (Mandarin Connection Book 9)

by Stephanie Brother

  It seems more to do with tactics. What are we doing next?

  And, more and more, my mind turns to Lois. What the hell was she thinking?

  How did she know about this? Herr Platt is obviously a nobody, technically speaking, from the perspective of people like Reighland, or this Harlon Calloway person.

  My mind wanders to Kevin Mitchum.

  His twin brother, Randall, was killed by those Mandarin operatives at Indian Wells. It’s where Brian and Kim met.

  And, I gather that he also is very well known amongst the Jaeger clan.

  He’s certainly talented, and rugged. But, there’s something sad about him.

  He laughs, maybe to cover some pain?

  I don’t know.

  I find it funny he wears a Drover’s hat. I only know it’s different than a cowboy hat because, during a tour, I was wearing hats as costume. The fashion designer was a famous gay man who had worked in Australia, with Elle Macpherson, who favored Drover’s hats. He set me straight.

  “Cowboy hats are straight brimmed, Cheryl, darling! An outback hat has the curving upward brim, and its crown is different. See?” he said, pointing out the differences.

  It was subtle, but I never made that mistake again!

  I wondered why he wore them? I guess it was another mystery to add to the long line of mysterious things about Kevin Mitchum.

  I overheard him talking with Admiral Decker during a lull on board the ‘Elena.’ Apparently, Kevin had acquitted himself quite well during the combat at the Sands.

  I did manage to find out that he always carried a Kimber .45 pistol, and two magazines.

  Always. I don’t know how that would be allowed in a lot of places, but apparently it never came up as a problem for him.

  “What do you know about Kevin Mitchum?” I say out loud.

  The twins look at each other, and chuckle.

  “Bitten by the bug!” they say, in chorus.

  I stare, not getting the joke.

  “So, you’ve been stung by the Stinger!” Chad laughs. It felt good to hear that sound. We’d all been so glum, lately.

  “Let’s sit down. Over there, at the round table,” Brad indicates.

  We pull out some chairs, and gather together. We’re being careful to not do anything too evocative.

  But it feels okay, for now.

  Some of the servers come by, and wipe down the table, and bring coasters, and fresh drinks, and then disappear, just out of sight, but available at an instant’s notice.

  “Reminds me of Ocaba Bien,” says Chad.

  Brad pulls a face.

  “How’s that? I don’t see anyone firing guns at us here,” he grumbles. His stubble excites me, the way it contrasts against the blue sky. I turn my gaze off into the distance, once more. I sigh.

  “Kevin Mitchum and his brother, Randall were college football players. Mitchum is a code name. In their varsity years, their nicknames were Stinger, and Thumper. Apparently, they both fell in love with the same woman. Their stepsister,” Chad explains. He pauses for effect.

  “Well, they were steps through marriage. Her father left the mother, who remarried the boys’ father, Frank Sullivan. Sullivan and the woman were killed by Mandarin Operatives. Later, the brothers were recruited by the Old Man, and brought into the fold,” he continues.

  “Old Man?” I reply, confused.

  “Admiral Decker,” says Brad, smiling. “Few are bold enough to call him that to his face, though. Noah could probably pull it off, I guess.”

  “Anyway, Randall became an attorney, and married Bea, the stepsister. She died a while ago, from cancer. Randall made a career out of representing Native American tribes, especially an obscure one on the Indian Wells reservation. The call themselves ‘The People,’ and can be traced back to the time of the Vikings. A strange tribe. Very open. Very trusting. And, very…” he stops.

  He looks away.

  “Very what?” I ask.

  Brad looks away, too.

  “Very sexual. They are polyamorous, and bisexual,” Chad finishes.

  We sit uncomfortably for a minute, nursing our drinks. The clouds float by.

  “Are we going to talk about this?” Brad asks.

  “Not just yet, please,” I beg them. “I can’t. It’s sheer torture. I know you both are going through it, too,” I say, my voice cracking, the tears almost flowing.

  “Randall did not want to stay in with the others, after Bea passed,” Chad says, continuing the story. “So, he spent the rest of his life defending The People from their natural enemies – developers.”

  He takes a sip of beer.

  “Indian Wells was sold out from under them, by the governor, to Harlon Calloway. Randall discovered this, and helped Brian Cox and Kim Wilder to bring it out in the open. Kim says that those two goons, from Black Dog, Bruce and Bart, trapped them in cave. Randall managed to save them from a collapse by grabbing the dynamite Bart had tossed at them. But he died in the effort when it exploded. The People managed to save their sacred burial grounds. The developers had discovered uranium…” Chad says, but Brad interrupts him.

  “Lithium,” he says.

  Chad looks annoyed.

  “It’s uranium,” he says, evenly.

  “Whatever, bro!” Brad exclaims.

  Chad jumps up.

  “This is why we’re always getting the shit shifts, Brad! You can’t pay attention and get the details!” he says, pointing his finger at his brother.

  Brad leaps out of his chair, knocking it to the ground.

  “Hey! Hey! Don’t get so…” I manage to get out.

  Then, Brad tackles Chad, and they roll off the deck, onto the beach.

  “Stupid…fucker…go…away!” Chad says, in between punching his brother.

  The two men wrestle on the beach, grappling and tossing each other around like rag dolls.

  Brad lands a punch on Chad’s left cheek. Chad knocks the wind out of Brad, who bends over and falls to his knees.

  I stand there, stunned.

  “Stop it!” I cry, the tears flowing now. I yell to the staff! “Stop them! They’re going to kill each other!”

  Three burly men run onto the beach, and try to pry the fighting brothers apart.

  Chad tosses sand around, into the face of one of them, who runs into the ocean, and dives in to get it out of his eyes.

  Two men grab Brad, who slams them into each other, knocking their heads together. They fall unconscious onto the beach, the waves covering them briefly.

  More staff run and pull their friends out of the surf.

  “I’m sorry, sirs! This won’t do!” a young woman states baldly.

  She shoots each one with a Taser.

  They fall down, across each other, jerking as the electricity stuns them.

  “No!” I shout.

  I run to them, and without thinking, hug both of them to me.

  “Oh, shit!” I think.

  I just made a huge mistake.

  I feel the Taser hit me, and then, nothing.

  Chapter Twenty

  We’ve landed on some weird little airfield, not far from the Big Island, from what I could overhear.

  The three of us are trussed up, and gagged.

  This is not very hospitable. Noah Stone is going to hear about this!

  The woman who tased us, Judi, glared at me almost the entire flight.

  “I’m sorry again, Miss Walker, but you all left me with no other choice. Our first priority is the safety and welfare of everyone on Mr. Stone’s island. You were all out of control.

  We did what we thought best, for everyone,” she explains, keeping her voice neutral.

  I glare at her, then sigh, and nod slowly.

  My eyes are wet with tears, yet again.

  So much sadness, of late!

  I look and see Brad and Chad are awake, and we exchange a look, but it doesn’t seem that we are able to do any melding. At all.

  Is it gone?

  I think about sucking C
had’s hard dick, trying as much as I can to imagine it.

  Nothing.

  They shake their heads at me.

  It’s gone! Whatever had happened on the ‘Elena,’ it must have been temporary. I feel relieved, in reality. It was too much.

  Security escorts us to a penthouse suite, where we are released. They lock the doors, though.

  I run to the twins, hugging them tightly.

  “I’m so sorry!” I cry, and then I weep against them.

  They sooth me, stroking my hair and hugging my shoulders, letting me get it out of my system.

  “It’s okay, shh!” Brad croons against my ear.

  Chad strokes my back.

  I feel better, after a while.

  We sit around the room, lost in our own thoughts.

  “Is it really gone?” Brad finally says, breaking the silence.

  Chad looks at me.

  “I think so,” he says, and then crosses over to me, and kisses me.

  It’s wonderful, and warm, and sensuous. I feel myself getting aroused.

  But, it’s nothing like the last kiss.

  I kiss him back, and our tongues dance in each other’s mouths.

  “Hey! No fair!” Brad protests, and he comes over and drags Chad, grinning, off of my face. Then, he plants his own kisses on me.

  We kiss, and it’s different. Brad is more tender, and probing, but he also uses his hands to grapple with my ample ass cheeks. After a moment, he stops, and pulls away.

  I am left breathless, my chest heaving.

  “Well, that’s good news, and bad news, I guess,” he says, scratching the stubble on his chin.

  “How so?” Chad asks.

  “Well, we seem to have lost the ability to meld. That’s good news. The bad news is that Cheryl loves me more than you, bro bro!” he says, with a wink.

  “Oh, you!” I say, and slap at him. He catches my hand, and spins me into another kiss.

  It’s delicious.

  “Wow. Cheryl, is that true?” Chad asks, looking hurt. I know he’s just putting on a show for his brother.

  “Come here, both of you,” I command.

  They obey.

  “Now, strip!” I order.

  Before I can blink, they are both buck-naked, their rigid cocks jutting out from their groins.

  “This is more like it,” I murmur, as I kneel in front of them.

  I take a cock in each hand, and gently stroke, long and smooth movements, as each one groans. Chad puts his hand on my shoulder, and Brad strokes my cheek.

  I lick the tip of Chad’s cock, and he moans. It tastes sweet, the precum leaking like tears.

  I suckle it, wrapping my lips around the glans, as Brad drops a hand to my blouse. He begins to unbutton me. I squirm around to allow it, and soon enough, he has my top clothes on the floor. My heavy breasts sway, the nipples hard and flinty. Brad tweaks them with his index fingers and thumbs as I suck more of Chad’s massive tool into my eager mouth. I lap around the shaft, licking long strokes up and down, and flick my tongue across his pulsating scrotum. I take each ball into my mouth in turn, suckling it like a ripe grape, and lightly chew. He groans with pleasure, and then puts a hand on the back of my head and shoves. His cock slides all the way in, and I choke slightly. He pulls out, but I shake my head at him.

  “No! Don’t stop!” I beg, cramming his meat back into my slick throat. He skull fucks me, the drool coming out and my eyes watering.

  Brad has knelt down, and is sucking my nipples, one after another, and rubbing my clit through my wet slacks. He puts a finger inside the waistband, and slides it under my thong, and finally finds my hot button. I moan, opening wide, and Chad’s cock slips another inch into me. I gag, but that only makes Chad pound me harder.

  “I’m gonna cum!” he yells, pushing my face so tight against his belly that I can’t breathe.

  I feel his thick, ropy semen firing out of his penis, coating my throat, filling my mouth, as he finishes.

  Brad, flips me onto my back, and yanks off my slacks, ripping my thong to one side. He pushes his face against my pussy, his tongue wrapping and lapping my labial folds, then dipping deep into my hot vagina. Each motion drives me closer to the edge of ecstasy, and then I am cumming, my juices wetting his face, chin and neck. I scream my pleasure, as he buries his tongue in my ass, and pulls me against him.

  Chad is sucking my lips, kissing my cheeks, as I come again.

  Brad rises up, fisting his rock-hard dick, and pushes the tip against my wet hole. I moan in anticipation, as he shoves into me with no delay. I scream, and Chad once more shoves his cock down into my mouth. My lips close around it, and I run my tongue across the top, licking the hole, and then along his juicy shaft.

  Brad pounds me with no mercy, my ass flopping and quivering as another orgasm rocks me. He screams in his own release, and shoves all the way into me, balls deep, as his cum washes against my womb.

  His head falls onto my breast, his breathing ragged, as he lays, spent, inside me.

  Chad grabs my throat, and forces his cock as deep as it can go into my aching throat. I gag some more, and then he’s cumming and once more I swallow his immense load.

  He falls across the bed, his cock trapped between my soaked lips, my tongue licking him clean.

  We lay like that, and soon, all fall asleep.

  I’m dreaming, it seems. I hear voices.

  “Well, at least they didn’t destroy the world,” says a female voice.

  “Yet,” says a male voice.

  I can smell my bodyguards, nestled snugly against my body.

  My mind is full of the memories of their passion, their love for me.

  It’s a dream come true.

  I love both of them.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Noah Stone sits at the head of the table.

  He looks grim.

  On one of the huge monitors in the room, Brett Ghent is staring out at us. Another man, I don’t recognize, is on another flat panel monitor, also dour faced. Other monitors have equally stern-faced men and women.

  We are in a conference room, somewhere near Hawaii, I think. I don’t know exactly, because, after our fuck-fest, we all passed out. When we awoke, we showered and had some food.

  An escort showed up, with four operatives, all heavily armed. They weren’t from Black Dog. I wondered if they were part of Noah Stone’s organization. I’d never seen them like that. It was scary.

  They waited for us to change into some more suitable clothing, and then drove us, in an armored car, to a waiting helicopter. The windows were all blacked out.

  It flew around for a while, then made a beeline for our destination. We weren’t in the air very long.

  When it landed, we waited while it was wheeled into a hangar. Once inside, they had let us out.

  “This is pretty high-level, eh, bro?” Brad had said.

  “Like that one op in Dubai, with Merc?” Chad replied.

  Exiting the chopper, we were then escorted under armed guard to this conference room.

  Noah had greeted us. He didn’t look happy at all.

  “Take seats, please. We will be starting in five minutes. There are refreshments, but no alcohol here,” he said, simply.

  Now, Noah sits at the head of the table.

  Across from him is an old man. Someone I can’t recall ever having met or seen before.

  He looks very staid, but fit. His eyes are lifeless mirrors.

  “The situation is grim,” Noah begins.

  “Ted Ghent and Admiral Decker are both dead,” he says simply.

  I gasp in horror!

  The woman on one monitor bows her head. She’s a beautiful, older woman. Her monitor is next to another man, and they seem to be in the same room. I see him reach over to hold her hand.

  “Poor Sarah, and Kady!” she says, sobbing.

  “There, now, honey,” says the man.

  “Om, we’ve word on your boy, Karl. The Miss T blew up. Your sons and Miss Bloomberg were
the only survivors,” another man says.

  I don’t recognize him, either.

  “How is he, Lucius?” the man, Om, says.

  “According to my sources, Stephan Jaeger, Captain Karl Jaeger, Drake Jaeger and Rachel Bloomberg were found floating at sea, and transferred to an American destroyer. Captain Jaeger was unconscious, and had wooden shrapnel embedded in his legs. The on-board surgery team managed to remove the debris, and managed to save the leg,” he says, formally.

  I feel sick.

  Who is Rachel Bloomberg? I wonder. I don’t recall having met her.

  And, who is this man, Lucius?

  Noah speaks.

  “The Alpha Team has been ordered to stand down. Black Dog security has been raided by the FBI, and the men are being debriefed, as of now. Captain David Spalding is in custody, and the majority of his agents have been released from his employ, and ordered to not leave the country,” he says.

  He takes a sip of water.

  “Brian Cox and Kim Wilder have disappeared. So has Kevin Mitchum. Their house was completely burned to the ground. No bodies have been recovered. Meghan White is also missing,” he continues.

  “Brett, how are things on your end?” he asks.

  Brett blows out a heavy breath, and wipes his hand across his face.

  “We’re under house arrest, but due to the Black Dog situation, our security is now being provided courtesy of the FBI. Mom is recuperating, but obviously grieving. As are we all,” he says, and lowers his head.

  I think he’s weeping, because he suddenly goes off camera.

  “I’m sorry, son,” Noah whispers. “Ted was a great friend, and an outstanding man. I know he’s told you many times how proud of you he is. So am I.”

  Brett’s face comes back into view, and he’s swiping at it with a handkerchief.

  “Thank you, Mr. Stone. It means a lot, hearing that from you,” he says, smiling.

  “We’ll get them, Brett. I guarantee it. We’ll nail these bastards,” Noah says, his voice dark with promise.

  I watch the older man.