Blaine, Destiny - Breakfast by the Sea (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Destiny Blaine

  “I didn’t say I love him.”

  “The way you feel about him is written all over your face! Damn it, answer me! Did you tell him you love him?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “Love and war mix as well as vinegar and water. If he’s fighting for you more than he’s fighting for this operation, he’ll lose focus, and that could get him killed.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “My own suspicions were right,” Ramone told Trony, shoving his phone toward him when he joined him at one end of the bar. “The photograph from the McIntire funeral is an identical match for him. See for yourself. Kid grew up, but he didn’t change much.” Ramone tossed back his drink and slammed the glass against the wooden bar. “Another one for my friend at the end of the bar. I’ll take a club soda.”

  “Are you fucking crazy? Why would you buy that guy a drink?”

  “Let’s get him drunk, take him outside, and teach him the same lesson we taught his father.”

  “Are you out of your mind? If we do this thing,” Trony said, lowering his voice, “if we get rid of him, we gotta pull him inside. We can’t have witnesses. Understand? No witnesses!”

  “All right, we’ll take him to Paige’s. If they’re staying here, then her place is empty,” Ramone pointed out, raising his glass high when Jeff tilted the crystal glass in his direction as a gesture of thanks. “But we do this thing tonight. I want that bastard to know going after revenge is one thing, but going after a man’s wife is something else altogether.”

  Trony vacated his seat, and Ramone watched Jeff. What kind of man waited years to extricate his grief and retaliate? Had he sipped on his need for payback as leisurely as he nursed his drink now?

  Ramone narrowed his gaze. There was only one way to find out.

  Ramone stalked Jeff. “I didn’t expect to find you here this evening. A man on his honeymoon seldom leaves a new wife to whet his whistle with the taste of whiskey.”

  Jeff took a drink, smacked his lips, and faced Ramone. “My wife is resting. She had a headache. She was upset after you approached us at dinner.”

  “It was a mistake in identity,” Ramone explained, extending his hand. “I’m Ramone Carpasia. Please accept my apology.”

  “I know who you are,” Jeff said, refusing his hand.

  Ramone motioned for the bartender. “Two more.”

  “Drinking club soda and buying a drink for a man you don’t know suggests a lot of things.”

  “I take it you’ve never truly loved a woman. If you had, then you would recognize a man in the middle of his grief. My wife passed away recently, and as I said, it was a mistake in identity.” Ramone gritted his teeth and set his jaw. The serpentine in his tone was thicker than it had ever been.

  Jeff placed an elbow on the bar and looked at Ramone. “Do you have a reason for sitting next to me, Carp?”

  Ramone stiffened. Only cops and thugs called him Carp. And he wasn’t sure Jeff was either. “Who are you?” he grated out. He was certain of one thing. He wasn’t just the kid who grew up and wanted to kill his daddy’s murderer.

  Jeff accepted the drink from the bartender. He turned it up, shot the scotch straight down his throat, and then stood. “I’m the man who is going to kill you.” He slapped him firmly between the shoulder blades. “And after I do? I plan to spend the rest of my life making sure Paige Lambert is a very happy woman.” He snarled. “Have a pleasant night, Mr. Carpasia.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of yourself if I were you, Jeff Jacobsen. There was a time when your father thought he could double cross me, and it didn’t work out too well for your sisters and mother. Shame he had to be so unreasonable. If he’d been a little more affable for my taste, I might have let those little girls live.”

  A couple seated nearby left the area immediately, and the bartender moved to the other end of the bar. Another man he’d heard speaking to the bartender in a thick accent only moments before moved closer. If Ramone had to guess, he wasn’t a stranger to Mr. Jacobsen. He looked like he’d served in the military—a real buff kind of fellow, clean-shaven and nice-looking, the kind of guy a woman might pick up in a bar while every man steered clear. He had cold eyes, a killer’s focus.

  Ramone only glanced over his shoulder. When he turned toward Jeff, he was in his face. “I’ll have the time of my life ripping you apart.”

  “Then let’s not wait and see how this all ends.”

  “When? Where?”

  Jeff chuckled. “I’ll call ya. You wait by the phone, ya hear?”

  After he left the bar, Ramone kept a keen eye on the tall guy who claimed a seat three chairs down. “Do you need something?” he asked, eyeing the fellow.

  “Nope,” the guy said.

  “Are you with him?”

  “Yep.”

  “I thought he was on his honeymoon,” Ramone remarked, taking a gulp of the club soda.

  “Yeah, we all are. Paige Lambert belongs to us.”

  Ramone choked on the ice, gagging when a large chunk lodged in his windpipe.

  “Seems the little woman has a fear of being alone with one man, so we took the time to reassure her. With a body like hers, there’s no need in settling for one when she can have five around to make sure she’s well taken care of, guarded around the clock, too, if you know what I mean.”

  “Do you have a death wish, too, son?” Ramone asked, looking in the mirror located behind the bar.

  He sneered. “It’s part of my job description, as a matter of fact.”

  Ramone glared straight ahead. “Then what do you say we try for a quick promotion?”

  The man moved toward him. He held out his arm and said, “After you.”

  Ramone rose, retrieved his wallet, and tossed a ten on the bar. “Will we talk like gentlemen?”

  The fellow shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I prefer the way killers negotiate.”

  “What are we discussing, exactly?”

  “Oh, you know, things like how my friend is going to kill you, when he’ll do it, and how much he’ll enjoy ripping you and your life to shreds.”

  “Like I ripped his father’s life apart?”

  The man didn’t say anything. He followed Ramone into the lobby and out into the parking lot. He showed no angst, and he had a lot to fear.

  Trony appeared with several of Ramone’s men. They surrounded the young fellow with their weapons barely concealed. Trony and Teeter secured his arms.

  Ramone stood in front of him, tilting his head back and forth and back and forth. “Such a willing soldier, aren’t you?”

  The man didn’t say anything.

  “What is your name?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Ramone nodded toward one of his guys and they brought out a switchblade. “I asked you a question.”

  “Leave him alone!”

  All gazes swung left. “What the hell?” Trony asked. “Watch out, Ramone, the rabid dog has something in her paw.”

  “Get out of here, Paige!” The brave one shouted. “Now, Paige!”

  “Let him go, Ramone.” Paige wore a white pantsuit with full legs and a long shirt. The wind caught the hem of her top, allowing her to create a most angelic picture, minus the deadly weapon in her hand.

  Ramone walked toward her. “What do you have there, doll?”

  She opened her hand and showed the grenade. Her fingers twitched around the pin. “I’ll do it, Ramone. Don’t try me.”

  “You realize if you kill us with that, you’ll kill him and yourself.” He nodded toward the young man. Damn bitch! Ramona always thought Paige was so smart, but she was a foolish woman, a stupid broad hell-bent and determined to play hero. Why the hell couldn’t she cry and beg like most women? Why did she always have to fight?

  “I met your new husband,” Ramone remarked, gauging his advantages as well as his disadvantages. “He came to the bar searching for me.”

  “He wanted to talk to you.”

  “Why?” Ramone asked.
r />   “You should’ve asked him. Maybe he wanted to let you know he planned to kill you.”

  Ramone chuckled. “But he didn’t count on you saving him, did he, Jillian? He never anticipated a simple woman like yourself going behind his back, but here you are, preparing to negotiate your life in exchange for his.”

  She flinched, but she didn’t say whether his suspicions were true or not. He didn’t need a confirmation. Evidently Jeff Jacobsen meant something to his estranged wife, otherwise she wouldn’t have sought him out.

  “Let Callan go, and I’ll go with you.”

  “Callan?” Ramone studied the man who followed him out of the bar. “What a pretty name for a pretty boy.” He grabbed his jaw and shook his head. “Do you care about Jillian, your Paige, Callan?”

  Callan didn’t reply.

  “Do you?” He watched his eyes for a sign. A flicker, anything. His jaw tensed. Ramone laughed. “There it is. Good boy,” he said, smacking his cheek. “I do believe the young chap gives a damn.” He sighed dramatically. “Funny thing, I don’t recall seeing him in the clips I watched earlier.”

  “What fucking clips?” Callan asked.

  “Oh, so you’re aware of them,” Ramone said triumphantly. “You missed quite a party in Paige’s hotel suite. Let me guess? You weren’t invited?”

  Callan chuckled. “Rest assured, if I’d been invited into Paige’s bed, I would’ve gladly gone.”

  “What?” Paige screeched.

  “You know it’s true,” Callan said softly.

  Great, so everyone was hung up on the woman he used to control. Ramone made a fast decision. They didn’t have much time. Callan’s back-up would surface, especially with Paige there negotiating, something she’d undoubtedly decided to do on her own.

  “After we’re out of here, let him go,” Ramone snapped. He returned his attention to Paige. “Give me that damn thing before you kill someone!” he screamed, making a sudden leap for the grenade.

  She jerked her arm out of his reach. “Not so fast. Have Trony walk Callan back to the hotel. I want to see him go inside. Once he’s safe, I’ll go with you.”

  Fury consumed Ramone. Who did this cunt think she was? Oh, he couldn’t wait to make her pay. He tasted her punishment, and she would suffer. He’d oversee the pain his men inflicted upon her.

  “Let him go back to the hotel, and I’ll go with you. I swear.”

  Ramone motioned for Trony to escort Callan. “Meet us in the car.”

  Paige was still as defiant as she’d always been, but there were significant changes in her personality. She was a few years older than the last time they’d been together, and age had been kind to her. Her skin didn’t show the lines of time, but with her hair pulled away from her face and piled high atop her head, she looked wise beyond her years. Her defiance shone in her expression, in her set jaw and cold and startling hollow eyes.

  Ramone still wanted to spank her ass raw for her humiliating tactics. Who did she think he was? Had she forgotten how much they’d shared? Did she think he would just let her walk away after he’d allowed her to live in his home and sleep in his bed?

  “He’s inside,” Teeter reported when Trony started back.

  “Jillian?” Ramone stuck out his hand, and she relented, reluctantly handing over the grenade. “Very good girl, Paige.”

  As soon as Ramone passed the explosive off to one of his men, he struck her. “How dare you embarrass me in front of that peon!”

  “Apparently you didn’t take a good look at Callan,” she said, straightening her back and blotting her lip with her fingertips. “He is anything but a peon!”

  Ramone grabbed her arm and hurried her toward the car, approaching them at a high rate of speed. “I see you’re always prepared,” she bit out.

  “It’s the only way to exist in my world. This is something you’ve always known, my dear.”

  “In your world,” she stated flatly. “In your murderous, corrupt world.”

  “That’s right, doll, and you should be thankful that I still allow you to exist in my presence. When I tire of you, you’ll be as dead as Ramona.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Fuck!” Jeff screamed his rage. “Where in the bloody hell was he taking her?” The news struck Jeff harder than any blow he’d ever endured. He’d failed her. He’d told her he would keep her safe, and now Ramone had her. “Damn you, Adam! Give me some answers!”

  Adam kept texting. He glanced up once and then addressed Callan. “Bring the car to the front. Find Miles.”

  “Where the hell is Connor?” Jeff demanded, grabbing one of the small bags and stuffing some of Paige’s weapons inside. “Throw that stupid thing down. I need to know where Connor is!”

  “He’s in the back of Ramone’s car. Give me a minute!”

  Jeff swung the bag over his shoulder. Thank God. Maybe Connor had watched Paige’s back after all. “Where are they?”

  “If he knew that, then we wouldn’t be standing here,” Miles said, entering the suite. “We fucked up, man. I’m sorry.”

  Jeff glared at Miles and then Adam. “Yeah, hell yeah, you messed up.”

  “We’ll get her back,” Miles assured him. “I won’t rest until we do.”

  “Do you remember who we’re dealing with, or did that little detail escape both of you when you let her walk out of this suite without an escort?”

  “She was supposed to meet me in the turret!” Adam screamed. “No one knew she’d take off to find you!”

  “Me?” Jeff asked, positively choking on the news.

  “Yeah, you. She wondered what she did wrong when she told you about that night your family died. You should’ve told her the truth. She thought it was something she said and—”

  “It was something she said! I was in bed with a woman who watched my family die, and not only was she there when they were killed, but apparently she tried to do everything she could to save them.” And she’d failed. That was the part he was having a difficult time processing.

  “You don’t believe her?” Adam asked, motioning toward the door.

  “What am I supposed to believe?”

  “Rather than being so furious all the time, did it ever occur to you to show her some gratitude?” Miles moved in front of them, covering them in the hallway in case someone appeared there with an order to stop them. They made their way through the hotel, with Miles never making an attempt to conceal his rifle.

  Adam and Jeff discussed the past day, walking behind Miles as if they were totally unaware of their surroundings. A man approached them right as they crossed the lawn. He kept his hands in his pockets and his head down. Jeff kept a keen eye on him. The man moved a little faster, speeding up when he passed them.

  Adam’s phone rang. “We’ve finally got them. They went to Paige’s. That must mean…”

  “Shit!” Jeff yelled, drawing his gun and shooting. He pumped two bullets into the man apparently there to stop them. “I don’t have time for this!”

  Miles turned around. “I had him.”

  “The hell you did,” Jeff said. “He’d already passed you! Some bodyguard you are.”

  Miles squared his shoulders. “Like I said, I saw him.” Doors to their black SUV slammed in unison seconds after Callan pulled the vehicle curbside.

  “Let’s go. They’re at Paige’s place,” Adam informed them, glancing toward the fallen fellow bleeding freely on the resort’s immaculate green lawn. “Callan, call the locals. Tell them to get ready. Apparently Jeff plans to leave bodies scattered around the island.”

  “The alternative back there was your body instead of his,” Jeff grated out.

  “We could’ve drawn on him and asked him to relinquish his weapon,” Adam remarked, smirking.

  “Bullshit, Adam. He was one of Ramone’s guys. I don’t care if I leave bodies everywhere. By the time this is over, I’ll have Paige back where she belongs.”

  Callan and Adam exchanged a knowing glance. Before they asked questions, Jeff said, �
��If I don’t, someone will pay.” He shot Adam a stern glare, but Adam didn’t acknowledge him. He returned to his cell, frantically typing out something on his keypad.

  Four minutes later, they parked on the street about two blocks from Paige’s place. Three minutes and counting, and Callan knocked the glass out of Ramone’s car, hit the trunk release button, and saved the day, or at least Connor.

  “We have to hurry,” Connor said. “Her screams can be heard all over this place.” Connor took off at a sprint, but Jeff soon passed him. He drew a knife and allowed it to hang freely from his side, keeping his hand on the butt of a semi-automatic tucked in his waistband while very aware of the pistols in his boots.

  Everyone was equipped with wireless communication devices. Jeff heard the hard breathing of his fellow men as they ran about, trying to find the safest way to enter Paige’s home undetected.

  Jeff didn’t have the safest route, but he was pretty sure he had the most accurate. If Connor heard Paige screaming bloody hell, then she was in immediate danger. He also knew from experience Paige felt compromised when she was behind closed doors with someone she viewed as a threat. There was only one logical place for Ramone to take her—the master suite.

  A blood-curdling yelp filled the air, and Jeff’s heart stopped. Easy, he reminded himself, trying to psych himself up for one hell of an entrance. He peered around the wooden partition on her back deck. “What the fuck!”

  “Come back!” Adam screeched in his ear. “Do you have their location?”

  “Yes,” Jeff gulped. “Ramone has her.” His breath caught in his chest when he saw her lying on her bed bound to the four posts and completely nude. “Damn him to hell and back. If he thinks his men will touch my woman, he’s got his last thing coming!”

  “What are you talking about? Come back!” Connor screeched. “Give us something, Jeff.”

  “Master bedroom. Hurry. Paige is on the bed, and several of Ramone’s guys look like they’re ready to get their rocks off. I think I’ll help them out.”

  Jeff rushed the bedroom with Adam screaming in his ear, “Wait for permission to enter the house! Jeff! Listen to me! You’re putting the entire team at risk!”