Smooth Operators [Clandestine Affairs 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Zara Chase

  “Ever thought your own prowess might be to blame?” she asked sweetly.

  Anger suffused his features. “Stop looking at the door, Briana. There’s no one here except you and me. That idiot I sent up here got himself caught. I saw your friends driving him back down the track and leaving you here all by your little self. I figured they might catch him, that’s why I came up to keep an eye on him.” He huffed. “I don’t know, you just can’t get the help nowadays. If you want a job doing, it’s best to do it yourself.”

  “What job do you want doing, Greg? Why are you so desperate to get your hands on this place?” Hopefully he wouldn’t be able to help boasting and it would buy her the time she needed. “You never even liked it, far as I recall.”

  “Ah, well, that was before I found out a deposit of bentonite sits right below your pretty little piece of paradise.”

  “Of course!”

  Briana clapped a hand across her mouth. There was already a thriving bentonite industry in the area, but Briana had no idea there was actually a deposit close to her grandmother’s land. Thinking about it, Gran had said something about hydrology and vegetation studies taking place just before she died. Briana should have made the connection but had just assumed the environmental groups had commissioned them to keep their records of the area current. It had happened before.

  “You’d never get permission to mine up here,” she sneered. “It’s a protected area.”

  Greg cocked a brow. “You sure about that?”

  She recalled Fergal saying that Greg’s father probably had half the commissioners in Valley County in his back pocket. Elections were due soon. Presumably Greg and his father couldn’t be sure that their men would get reelected, hence their haste.

  “Your daddy must be real proud of you.”

  Greg curled his lips. “He doesn’t know what I’m doing. I plan to surprise him when it’s all tied up.”

  Briana hid her surprise behind a mocking façade. “Hope he’s got a lot of patience.”

  “I begged for the opportunity to make more decisions within the company,” Greg said, explaining his situation even though she hadn’t asked. “He was too stuck in his ways. We needed to take on higher-risk, higher-return clients, which is what I did when he finally gave me a free hand.” He glowered at nothing in particular. “How was I to know the fucking economy would tank?”

  “Ah, I get it. You’ve bankrupted his company and now want to prove to him that your genius lateral thinking can save the day.” She released a hollow laugh. “Grow up, Greg. You won’t get permission to mine up here if I object, which obviously I will.”

  “Precisely.” Greg sent her a toxic grin that frightened the shit out of her. “Shame you went out looking for your dog in this storm, lost your footing, and fell in the lake.”

  Come on, Fergal!

  Briana simply shook her head. “It ain’t gonna happen.”

  She’d let her guard down and he obviously sensed it. Before she could stop him, he thrust out a hand and grabbed her arm. Briana tried to smash her knee into his groin, but he moved back and her blow merely glanced off him.

  “Not a big enough target,” she said, trying for bravado when she was actually petrified.

  He hit her face hard just as the door flew open and Fergal and Max bounded through it. Relief coursed through her as Max flew toward Greg. Greg moved behind her and threw a strong arm around her neck, almost cutting off her windpipe and Max’s ability to get near enough to bite him.

  “Back off,” he said, “and get that fucking mutt out of here.”

  Fergal regarded him with murder in his eyes. He stood stock-still, legs slightly apart, and appeared to assess the scene with total clarity. His calmness clearly got to Greg.

  “I said lose the dog.”

  Fergal opened the door again and had to force Max outside.

  “What the fuck are you doing here anyway?” Greg asked. “I just saw you two guys drive down the track.”

  “Stop being such a fucking coward, hiding behind a woman, and face me like a man. Or don’t you have the stones for it?”

  “If you hadn’t interfered, all this would be sorted by now.”

  Briana didn’t know what to do, but there had to be something. She could sense Greg’s desperation in the strength of the stranglehold he’d put on her. Fergal clearly didn’t underestimate him, and she could also sense his frustration. She saw the knife that she’d been tempted to grab as a weapon earlier, sitting on the chopping board just behind her, a few tantalizing inches away from her hand. If she could just nudge Greg in that direction. She slanted her eyes sideways, praying that Fergal would get the message.

  She gauged the exact moment when he did. He moved diagonally a step or two toward the surface. Greg instinctively pulled Briana that way, in order to maintain the distance between them. She could hardly breathe, so tight was Greg’s hold on her neck, and spots danced in front of her eyes. If she didn’t move now then she might well pass out. She inhaled as much air as her restricted windpipe would permit and then sagged against Greg’s body. The move clearly surprised him, and he released his hold, just fractionally. Fergal sprang forward at exactly the same moment as Briana grabbed the knife and stuck it into Greg’s thigh.

  “Argh! Fucking bitch!”

  He released her and pulled the knife free. With her debilitated strength she hadn’t plunged it nearly deeply enough. Greg’s eyes were black with rage, and he lunged for her. His fingers brushed against her arm, but before he could grab it, Fergal’s fist made bone-crunching connection with Greg’s face. Blood spurted from his nose as he crumpled to the floor, cursing and screaming, landing on the remnants of Briana’s wineglass.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “You okay, babe?”

  Fergal could see that Greg wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon, and so his immediate concern was for Briana. She staggered out of the kitchen and fell into a chair, still struggling to breathe. Her face was deathly pale, apart from the angry welts left on her cheek by Greg’s hand. Fergal felt a murderous rage toward the sniveling coward crumpled on the floor, but he’d deal with him in a moment.

  “Let me look at you.” He crouched beside Briana, pulled her hair away from her neck and let forth with a string of curses in the variety of the languages he’d learned in the service. There were ugly marks on her neck where the son of a bitch had held her so tight. She’d be badly bruised, but not as badly as Stone would be when Fergal had finished with him.

  “I’m okay,” she replied. “I just need a minute.”

  “Take all the time you need, honey.” Fergal ran a hand soothingly down her back. “It’s all over now.”

  “He told me…He told me that—”

  “It’s okay. Tell me later. I’ll get some ice for your neck.”

  “What about me?” Greg whined when Fergal walked past him. “I’m bleeding here.”

  “Think yourself lucky you’re still fucking breathing.”

  Fergal grabbed a dish towel, filled it with ice, and went straight back to Briana, savagely kicking Greg’s leg out of his way.

  “Here, wrap this around your neck, honey.” Her hands were trembling so he did it for her. “I never should have left you alone,” he said, quietly seething at his own stupidity.

  “It’s okay.”

  Fergal glanced again at her injuries. “Like hell it is!”

  A scratching sound reached their ears. “Let Max in, will you? He’s probably cold.”

  “Don’t let that fucking mutt get anywhere near me.” Greg’s petulant whine made him sound like he had a head cold. Fergal took considerable satisfaction from the fact that he’d obviously broken his nose when he hit him. Should have broken his fucking useless neck.

  Fergal shot him a look. “Don’t tempt me.”

  Max barreled into the room as soon as Fergal opened the door, teeth bared, tail quivering, a deep growl rumbling in his throat. He headed straight for Greg. Fergal was sorely tempted to let Max tear the jerk’s
throat out, but called him off at the last possible moment. The dog obeyed him with obvious reluctance, backing off but keeping a weather eye on Greg and maintaining a continuous growl. Greg staggered to his feet, and Max’s growls grew louder. Greg was so scared of the dog that Fergal figured he might just do something stupid. He needed to give Briana his full attention, smother her with kisses, and apologize for letting her down. But he couldn’t—not until Greg had been neutralized.

  “I’ll just deal with the trash, darlin’,” he said to Briana. “Won’t be but a minute.”

  He grabbed Greg by the back of his collar and threw him with considerable force into a hard kitchen chair.

  “Hey, careful. I’m bleeding here.”

  “You’ll live, unfortunately.”

  Fergal found a length of strong cord in one of the kitchen drawers and tied Greg’s hands behind him tight enough to make him wince. Then he grabbed his cell and called Harley.

  “How’s it going?” he asked. “Any problems?”

  “The sheriff has just locked Bruce up. He didn’t want to but had no choice, given that we caught him red-handed. I still think he’s trying to decide what to do, though.”

  “He’s thinking about his own hide, presumably.”

  “That’s my take.”

  “His mind’s just been made up for him. Get back here and bring him with you. We have another prisoner for him.”

  Fergal briefly filled Harley in on events.

  “We’re on our way,” Harley said curtly, cutting the connection.

  Fergal went back to Briana, who seemed to have regained a little color. “Not long now, babe,” he said, rubbing her hands between his. “Harley’s bringing the sheriff out here with him.”

  “That’s good.” Greg’s nasal voice caused them both to turn and look at him. “Then I can press charges against you two for assault and false imprisonment.”

  Fergal actually laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  “I came out here out of the goodness of my heart to check on Briana ’cause the weather was so bad and I was worried about her. She invited me in and then you barged in and attacked me in a jealous rage.” Greg looked as though he actually believed the sheriff would buy his story. “Everyone knows Briana’s my girl. I’ll be believed.”

  Briana drew an indignant breath. “That’s bullshit,” she said. “No one invited you in. You attacked me, and I have the bruises to prove it.”

  “Could have gotten them some other way. Looks like you and lover boy here have been having quite a party.” He nodded toward the comforter. “No, make that three lover boys. When the locals hear about your sluttish behavior, any sympathy they might otherwise have felt will switch to me. Course, the sheriff will be on my side, anyway. He fucking well ought to be. I pay him well enough.”

  “I’m not gonna tell you again, asshole. Shut the fuck up!”

  Fergal stood over Greg, fists clenched. It took every ounce of his military training not to knock that smug smirk off his bloodied face. Instead he turned his back to him and returned to Briana’s side. In an undertone she repeated everything Greg had told her about his reasons for wanting the lodge.

  “He’s right,” she said in a concerned voice. “The locals will take his side if he puts a positive spin on it and he has the sheriff in his corner. His father wields a lot of power around these parts.”

  Fergal was filled with rage. “He won’t get away with it while I still have breath in my body, darlin’.” He took her hand and traced patterns on her palm with the pad of his thumb. “He’s pissing in the wind. Don’t let him get to you. It’s what he wants.”

  Gus, Harley, the sheriff, and one of his deputies arrived shortly after that. Fergal stood to let them in. Gus and Harley made straight for Briana, fussing over her. The sheriff looked at the state of Greg and scowled.

  “What happened to him?”

  “This fucking animal broke my nose, that’s what.”

  Greg went into his spiel about having been attacked by Fergal. It was obvious that the sheriff was still vacillating, and the longer Greg spoke, the more likely it appeared that he’d come down on his side. Fergal took Harley and Gus aside and told them what had really happened.

  “Problem is, we can’t prove it.”

  Harley laughed. “Sure we can. Briana, tell the sheriff what Greg told you.”

  She did so in a clear, concise voice.

  “Your word against mine, sweet thing,” Greg said smugly.

  “Not precisely.” Harley stepped forward. “What time did Greg burst in on you, Briana?”

  “Just before ten. Why?”

  Without responding, Harley went to a shelf in the great room and removed a small device. “Ten o’clock, you say.” He pressed a few buttons, and Greg’s voice came through loud and clear, condemning himself with his own words.

  Fergal glanced at Greg and took considerable satisfaction when the color drained from his face and his head fell forward in defeat.

  “A voice activated recorder,” Harley said. “Two hundred hours of recording space, long battery life, available from all good retailors in your area.”

  Gus laughed. “Sure you don’t want to change your story, Stone?”

  Greg’s language would have made a sailor blush when the sheriff exchanged the cord binding his hands for police-issue handcuffs.

  “Shit, Harley,” Fergal said, slapping his back. “You should have told me about that.”

  “You know me,” he said, shrugging. “I do like my gadgets and I also like to be prepared. I just forget to mention this little baby, is all.”

  Briana stood up and wrapped her arms around Harley’s neck once the sheriff had relieved them of their unwanted guest. “Now I know you really are clever,” she said, kissing him.

  “I did tell you that, sweetheart.”

  “Come on, honey,” Fergal said. “Let’s get you in the bath and then into bed. You’ve had quite a day.”

  “There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

  “Not now. One of us will stay with you if you like, but only to make sure you sleep.” He kissed her brow. “Tomorrow we’ll talk.”

  * * * *

  Briana did sleep. Thanks to the solidity of Fergal’s muscled body spooned behind hers, holding her all night, making her feel safe, she slept like a baby and didn’t have a single bad dream. Fergal’s rigid cock pressing against her back woke her sometime after sun up.

  “Hmm,” she said, stretching in his arms and shooting him a smile. “Seems like you’re pleased to see me.”

  “Sorry about that. Can’t seem to help myself when you’re around, but it’s inappropriate, given what you’ve been through.”

  “That way the bad guy wins.”

  “He almost fucking did, thanks to my neglect. If Max hadn’t warned me, I—”

  “Shush.” She wriggled in his arms until they were face to face. “No way in this world would I have allowed him to throw me into the lake. I’m not quite that biddable.”

  “How would you have stopped him? He’s twice your weight.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She plunked at her lower lip with her index finger, pretending to think about it. “Perhaps I’d have gone all weak and girly on him, then kneed him in the nuts.”

  Fergal laughed, but she could see he was still beating himself up. She took matters into her own hands and instigated a slow kiss that fired her passions.

  “Still,” she said when she broke it. “If you’re still feeling bad, I can think of ways you could make it up to me. It would be a damned shame to let such a fine hard-on go to waste.”

  “Witch!”

  Fergal threw her onto her back and put his capable hands to good use. He gave her a mind-blowing orgasm with his lips, then another with his gorgeous cock buried deep inside her. She was so boneless afterwards that he had to carry her to the shower, where he took it upon himself to wash every inch of her so slowly, with such sensuous sweeps of his hands, that she was ready to go another round.

  �
��Uh-uh.” He shook a finger at her. “We need to catch up with the others.”

  Hand in hand, they joined Gus and Harley for a late breakfast.

  “The sheriff called,” Gus said. “He needs us all to go into town and make statements. Greg’s father’s gotten his son the best lawyer his limited funds can provide, but no way will he wriggle out of this one.”

  “The sheriff is falling over himself to come down on our side,” Harley said, the curl of his upper lip mirroring Fergal’s own disdain.

  Seth and Maurice accosted them as soon as they left the sheriff’s office several hours later, keen to hear all the details firsthand.

  “The whole town’s abuzzing with the news of Stone’s downfall,” Seth said gleefully as they all shared a pot of coffee outside the barber shop.

  “Did the cocky so-and-so really think he could get away with mining out your way?” Maurice asked.

  “Seems so,” Briana replied, shrugging. “Desperate men and all that. He’s been raised to believe anything he wants he can have, so why wouldn’t he?”

  “Well then, young lady, it’s a good job we told your daddy you could use some help.”

  “Just don’t expect me to thank you,” she replied, shaking a finger at them both but clearly trying not to laugh.

  “We’ll thank you for her,” Gus said.

  “What worries me,” Briana said wistfully, “is how to stop other people trying to do the same thing. Now that it’s common knowledge there’s bentonite beneath my land, there’s no telling what tricks people might try to get licenses to mine. I’ll never have a moment’s peace.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Fergal replied. “There’s been a bit of local media interest in Stone’s spectacular downfall, right?”

  “Right,” Seth agreed, chuckling. “Wonder how them vultures found out about it so damned quick?”

  Fergal cocked a brow. “I can’t begin to imagine. Which is the leading paper in this valley?”

  “The Glasgow Courier,” Seth and Maurice replied before Briana could.