“You pushed yourself on me.”
“I was trying to cover some preliminary business so we could set aside any false pretenses!”
The men downstairs rushed toward them like a herd of cattle. The pounding of footsteps alerted her to the arrival of Connor’s posse. In a moment, she’d be surrounded. The time she spent in Cairo returned in a series of flashbacks.
Her mouth went dry. Her eyes were heavy, but focused. She felt the heat licking at her nape, like she often did when she awoke in a cold sweat, fighting her way out of the nightmares of a past she desperately wanted to erase from her memory.
Adam started inside the room. His thick muscles bunched over the long sleeves pushed above his elbows. “What the hell did you do to her?”
“Adam, back off man, she’s crazy,” Connor bit out.
“I’m crazy?” Paige asked, gripping her weapon. “You’re the one who came in here pitching a bunch of rules, implying I can’t protect myself.”
“It’s a machete,” Connor informed them.
“No shit,” one of the other fellows said, looking over Adam’s broad shoulder. “Ya don’t say?”
“Where the hell did you get that?” Adam asked her, giving Connor a hard stare in an apparent effort to translate one of those I’ve got this kind of messages.
“You’re not going to talk me down,” she stated flatly, making her position known. “I’m not angry. I’m certainly not insane. But I’m not easily shoved around, especially not by a cocky-ass man.” She checked out Connor’s behind and then added for sport, “Especially not one who is apparently under the impression he’s more cock than ass.”
The cowboy who looked a few years younger than the rest chuckled. “She’s got your number, Connor. Before long, she’ll be leading you around on a leash and insisting you call her sugar momma.”
“Knock it off, Miles,” Adam demanded, keeping his arms spread wide, never changing his stance or his grip on the wooden door frame. Evidently, he wanted to protect the young dude from crossing into the danger zone.
What she’d give to taunt Connor. If anything, she should make an example out of him. He’d entered her bedroom uninvited, handing down orders like he was a decorated soldier with clout and political position. Then, he’d had the audacity to rub his pecker against her pussy!
She swallowed hard eyeing the men staring back at her.
“What’s it going to be, Paige?” Adam said, negotiating. “Can we all get along here?”
“Probably not, but what the hell?” She took a deep breath, realizing the consequences awaiting her action. She dropped her weapon anyway. She might as well get to know her guests. Besides, she’d missed her morning jog and needed a good workout. And hadn’t she decided that a solitary existence was overrated anyway?
Yep, sure enough.
She might as well get to know each of her guests on a more personal level.
* * * *
Once she tossed aside the heavy knife, Connor and Adam tackled her.
“Damn it to hell! I’m not armed!”
Adam held her down by placing his palms on her back and hips. Connor wasn’t so kind. He pushed her face against the hardwood floor.
“She pulled the weapon from the mattress,” Connor told the others when they entered her room.
The guy no one bothered introducing searched her room. Connor and Adam seemed unaffected by her continual squirming.
“Let me go! Damn you! I said let me go! Who are you?” Her cheek remained pressed against the cold, hard floor. Her mind was reeling, taking her back to another time when she’d been in a similar situation.
Paige wanted to run and hide, but she had been trained to fight. She wanted to cry, but she wasn’t one to show emotion.
Sheets and clothing flew across the room. Her dresser and closet were ransacked. Guns, knives, and a few little goodies the normal civilian wouldn’t have—grenades, as an example—were uncovered.
“The question is—who the hell are you?” Connor demanded, wrapping his arms around her torso and giving her a sharp yank. Her knees threatened to buckle, but he held fast to her middle, groping her in a way she accidentally encouraged when she tried to break free.
“You aren’t going anywhere until you answer me,” Connor grated out. Adam and the others looked on, waiting to hear her story.
That wasn’t going to happen.
“I’m nobody, just a woman trying to get by.”
Connor’s eyes held blue-hot fire. “Bull shit. You aren’t a little old maid wilting away by your lonesome out here on this island! Now who are you?”
She studied Adam. He looked like a sensible kind of guy.
“I’ll talk to him,” she said, tilting her chin in Adam’s direction.
“You’ll talk to all of us,” the handsome one said, prowling through her lingerie drawer. He fingered a thong and held the hot red silk high enough for all to see. “Nice, eh?”
“Do you mind?”
He chuckled. “No, darlin’, not in the least. Will you be modeling this little number now or later?”
She was seething. “Let. Me. Go.”
“Considering your own guerilla warfare tactics, you shouldn’t be that surprised,” Adam pointed out. “You were told, at least in so many words, what to expect. You were apprised of the classified nature of our visit.”
Adam’s eyes followed hers, and he pointed to the corner where she’d made the mistake of staring. There, Miles retrieved another rifle, the last one she had tucked away in her once-private quarters.
“You told me you were cowboys on an extended vacation!”
“We are,” Miles assured her, grabbing his invisible reins and riding his make-believe pony for show. “Any man can be a cowboy when there’s a worthy mare to saddle.”
“Is there any way you can turn these bruisers out to pasture so we can have an adult conversation?” she asked Adam. She ignored the other goons in her room while trying to draw Adam into her world, the sensible place where she hoped to discuss canceling their pending reservation.
“Considering the weaponry you keep stashed around here, you should’ve anticipated a thorough strip search and greeted us in your birthday suit. Everything should’ve been open for exposure,” Connor said, scrubbing the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip and giving her a thorough inspection.
Paige felt naked. Connor eyed the lower half of her gown, where she was confident he’d see a patch of dark hair under the sheer material.
“Boys, once she’s broken in, I have a feeling she’ll provide hours of entertainment.” Connor shot Miles a wink and then added, “By the way, do you know how to pole dance?”
“The only pole I see,” she said, lowering her voice, “is the one barely visible under your tight denim pants, and it’s a skinny one from what I can tell.”
“Great, Adam, this is exactly what we needed: a beautiful hostess with a model’s body, a hooker’s mouth, and a criminal’s arsenal.”
The others laughed, but Adam looked like he was ready to talk business. He crossed his arms and leaned close. “Miss Lambert, I would take things down a notch or two if I were you. When Connor conducts a search, he checks every nook and cranny. And when I strip a woman, body cavities are my specialty.”
The moment turned into a complete nightmare. The inner warrior desperately reappeared. The woman within fought for survival as much as for respect, and the victim she’d once been was ready to surrender life for a better cause. She mentally questioned herself. What did she stand for or against now, after all these years? Did she even know? Probably not.
If Ramone had sent for her and this was his idea of a joke, the separation hadn’t changed him. He was even more manipulative.
“There’s been a mistake,” she finally managed. “You boys have the wrong bed and breakfast.”
“Nice try,” Connor remarked, unzipping his bag and dragging a few articles of clothing from the side pouch. “We’re not going anywhere, lady.”
“We c
ouldn’t if we wanted to,” Miles explained. “The logistics of this mission are set in stone, and no one, not even Adam, has the power to change our orders.”
“Orders?” Paige asked, nearly choking on awareness. “So you aren’t cowboys?”
“Ah, darlin’,” Connor said, “don’t act like that. We can still be your cowboys when the time is right.”
“We have a ranch,” Miles told her. “Operation Cowboy.”
“What?”
“It’s the name of our place in Tennessee,” Miles further explained. “Acres and acres of farmland used for training our special forces.”
Who were these men? Why did they feel compelled to charge into her life and turn it upside down? Why couldn’t they take their superior cowboy attitude and move on along? She could recommend a few places…like Siberia.
“In case you’re curious, Jeff and I do some farming.”
Good for them. “Who the hell is Jeff?”
“You’ll meet him later. He’s on another job at the moment,” Adam casually answered, like she should interpret that to mean he was chasing bulls and riding women.
“You don’t understand. You can’t stay here. We’ll kill one another. I can almost see the body parts scattering now.”
Connor arched a brow. Adam moved into what she considered her justifiable combat zone.
“In that case, sunshine, you’ll have two roommates instead of one.” Adam motioned toward the others. Miles appeared to balk at his pending assignment and turned toward the door as if to avoid eye contact with the obvious officer in charge. “Miles, you’ll bunk here with Connor and Miss Lambert.”
“Damn you to hell!” she yelled. “You don’t understand! You can’t stay here! I do not need your shit!”
“Do you have a problem with gun-slinging modern-day cowboys searching for bad guys who need to be taught a lesson or two?” Adam asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I don’t appreciate trouble showing up at my door, and I’m not in the mood for a battle on my front porch. This is a bed and breakfast. This is not ground zero for hot-shot cowboys to flex their muscles and show off their guns!” Jeez, whatever happened to free speech, and why didn’t someone listen when she exercised her right?
Connor chuckled. “I like that.”
Adam rubbed his neck. “Listen, Paige, we won’t put you in any danger. If you do what we tell you, no one will get hurt, and that’s kind of our goal here. We don’t enjoy stuffing innocent people into body bags.”
“Whew! I can’t tell you what a relief that is,” she said in a singsong pitch.
“Uh, pardon me for saying so, but I don’t think we have to worry about someone hurting her. She’s the one who was waving that machete around her head like she owned fundamental control,” Connor reminded them.
“Would you prefer a mild-mannered maiden with an even temperament? I can recommend several bed and breakfast accommodations where you’ll find the hostess perfectly affable. Then maybe I can return to my ordinary life.”
“You lead anything but a simple life, lady,” Miles said, finally making his formal introduction. “I’m Miles Landon and probably the only one with manners enough to formally introduce myself.”
“Wrong,” Connor grumbled, remaining committed to his cause of unpacking his belongings.
“At what point did you shake hands with the lady?” Miles asked, taking the hand Paige reluctantly offered and bringing Paige’s long fingers to his lips. His gentlemanly ways inspired a round of applause.
Paige had misjudged her current predicament. This wasn’t just her nightmare. It was every man’s sweetest dream. The good old boys club in living color.
Connor ogled her again. “Introductions were exchanged somewhere between how do you do and lessons one, two, and three.”
God help her. What was wrong with her? Why in the bloody hell did Connor’s hot-blue gaze heat her to the quick? Why was she responding to his nonsense? That was a rare and unusual happening.
“I can’t recall your stupid rules,” she informed flatly, noting how the men exchanged glances around the room. What, were they telepathic?
Miles rubbed his chin. “Where’d you learn to fight?”
“My father was involved in guerilla warfare,” she lied. “He taught his children survival skills.” Considering the blade she’d retrieved from under the Sleep like a Darling Mattress, maybe they’d believe her.
Two of the four bought her story. Adam and Miles left the room.
Connor grabbed a few items from his open vinyl bag and walked over to the closet. “I have my own hangers.”
“With all the bedrooms in this place, you know what? You can have your own accommodations, too. We aim to please at Breakfast by the Sea.”
“I’m staying,” he said firmly, “in here.” He pointed toward the floor with his index finger. “With you.”
“Uh, no, you aren’t,” she said, removing several items of clothing from her antique armoire. “If you prefer the private beach entrance, then I can move my things to another room, but I won’t be sleeping in here with a complete stranger.” Especially one who looks like you! “The arrangement is not in my best interest.”
Connor grinned. “That’s up for debate, sweet cheeks.”
Sweet cheeks? Okay, back up a step. She didn’t want to look at him now. No, she had a true need to wallop him!
“Not so fast, sunshine,” the tallest of the bunch said, stepping inside the closet and placing his hand over hers.
“And who are you?” she asked, trying to take her focus away from the large hand covering hers. How long had it been since a man’s hand had cupped hers?
“I’m Callan O’Bree.”
“You’re Irish?”
Callan’s light blue eyes dashed up and down her body. “I am,” he replied. “And if ya goin’ for a pint, I’ll bend ye ear.”
“Don’t buy his ‘me Ireland is me heart’ act. His parents were raised there. Callan was born and bred in the South, not too far from here, actually.”
“Really?” she asked with piqued interest.
“My dad was stationed in Charleston. Did you say your parents were in the military?” Callan quickly lost his thick Irish tongue.
“No, I didn’t say,” she replied, ready to make an escape.
Connor latched onto her wrist before she exited. “We’ll meet downstairs in a few minutes. You caught me off guard earlier. Since you like the fight, I’ll be watching for you next time.”
Paige stared at the grip he secured around her arm. She had so many sensations zipping around her body that she wasn’t sure which ones she should claim as her own and which ones she should chalk up to past training. One minute, she wanted to fight, and the very next, she found herself dying to know more about these man-beasts invading her home.
“Miss Lambert?”
Shaking free of her zoned-out mode, she said, “Oh, for God’s sake, you’ve already felt me up and down. The least you can do is call a woman by her first name when she’s the reason you’re standing there with a boner. It’s Paige. Welcome to Breakfast by the Sea. I hope you don’t choke on your stay.”
Chapter Two
After Paige prepared chicken salad served over delicate lettuce leaves, Adam sent her on a walk. Later, he would coach her about their diet. His men couldn’t survive on bird food.
“I thought you didn’t want her left unattended,” Connor mentioned, pointing toward the water.
“I told her to stay where we can see her. I set boundaries.”
“I’d like to give her a few of those too, if you don’t mind,” Connor teased, reaching for an apple and immediately tossing the decorative fruit back in the bowl.
“Might get a splinter in your teeth,” Adam pointed out.
“You need to talk with her about our menu,” Miles said.
“Sure enough,” Connor added.
“We can prepare grocery lists in our dreams, men. Right now, I need some answers. What the hell happened upstairs
? Where did our lovely hostess get her hands on a mean machete?”
“Yeah, big boy,” Callan said, his thick Irish accent long since forgotten. “What did you do to her, anyway?”
“Nothing,” Connor replied with absolute certainty, taking a seat next to Adam on the long wooden ledge. “I’m telling you. First, I’m moving in and noticing she’s not exactly digging our arrangement. The next minute, I’m explaining why we’ll need to share a room. Then—”
Miles snickered. “We can all guess what happened next.”
“Yeah,” Callan added. “He put the moves on her.”
“I didn’t put anything on her. We just met her, for crying out loud.”
“Maybe that’s why we were served meal rations,” Callan pointed out. “She’s keeping us weak so we’re forced to rely on her for physical strength.”
“I’ve got her some physical strength right between my legs,” Connor said.
Adam snarled. “From what I saw, you almost didn’t have that coveted deadly weapon either. How in the world did a woman catch you off guard?”
Connor stared at him. “Let me guess, if you’d been the one in that room, you would’ve automatically assumed she kept an arsenal in her closet, a machine gun shoved under her bed, and hand grenades next to the toothpaste?”
The deck fell silent.
“Well?” Connor pressed, determined to provoke an answer.
Adam turned his attention toward the beach. “Damn, what have we gotten ourselves into here?”
“She’s somebody with a past,” Miles remarked.
“Everyone has a past,” Adam returned. “What bothers me is who she left tucked away when she attempted to leave hers behind.”
“And whether or not they want to find her?”
Adam paced the deck. “Callan, I’m not worried about that yet. What I’m curious about is whether or not she has a lead on whoever she’s tracking and if she’s after the same people we are. I’d also like to know who’s paying her. Someone with a lot of money bought her a hell of a lot of ammunition and guns. She’s a hired assassin. I’ll put my own cash on that.”
Blaine, Destiny - Breakfast by the Sea (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 2