by Eileen Green
Men of Montana 11
Brooke’s Special Agents
Brooke Alton never thought she would return to the place where her life nearly took a horrible turn nearly a year ago. She had been kidnapped, along with several others, by white slavers and were being taken to Canada.
Charged with helping with their rescue, two special agents, Bradley Smith and Frank Green, had been provided with a picture of Brooke, and they instantly fell in love with her.
When a business venture brought Brooke back to Kalispell, she soon found herself being romanced by the two men she had met briefly. Though they had a long-distance relationship, meeting to see if they had something together was needed.
As their love blossoms, a threat arises from one of their pasts that the men need to attend to. They task themselves with teaching Brooke that they are her protectors as well as her lovers. Can they win her heart while dealing with an unseen enemy?
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys
Length: 90,319 words
BROOKE'S SPECIAL AGENTS
Men of Montana 11
Eileen Green

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
BROOKE'S SPECIAL AGENTS
Copyright © 2017 by Eileen Green
ISBN: 978-1-64010-561-4
First Publication: August 2017
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2017 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
DEDICATION
I’d like to dedicate Brooke’s Special Agents to all my loyal readers who have waited patiently for her story to be told. Life got in the way of my writing, which won’t happen again. I owe it to my readers to be diligent with my stories and handle the other parts of my life accordingly.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Janice Greenlee writes mainstream historical romances, while her alter-ego, Eileen Green, writes the erotic romance novels interlaced with intrigue, and occasionally, shape-shifters.
When asked how long she has been writing, Eileen Green answers, since the 7th grade. Her English teacher, Mrs. Weekes saw potential in the student who began to dabble in writing. Eventually, marriage, kids, and then single motherhood came along and the writing took a backseat as life does when faced with obstacles.
The writing continued even though page after page sat in boxes or on the computer, waiting for the day they would be allowed to be free to tell their stories.
Life dealt a cruel twist to her family and friends. The lesson learned was to not live with regrets. She ran with that thought, publishing her first book, Love Twisted in Time, by the end of that fateful year; available on Kindle. The dream of being an author was finally achieved. Another mainstream historical romance novel, Sands of Passion, published under Janice Greenlee, is available on Smashwords.com.
Her first erotic romance novel came from a dare and Lyndee’s Saviors was written. Now, under Eileen Green, there are two series, Men of Montana and The Tundra Protectors, and the beginning of a third, Tiger’s Lair, which is a spin-off of Men of Montana. A couple of stand-alone books are included in the erotic romance line of books. Romance stories with happily-ever-after endings are her favorite. She continues to write them because every romance needs to end with all characters being forever in love.
Janice divides her time between Washington and California, although she really prefers Washington. The beauty there provides a welcome backdrop to write.
For a full list of her books, please check out her website, www.authoreileengreen.com
For all titles by Eileen Green, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/eileen-green
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
About the Author
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Landmarks
Cover
BROOKE'S SPECIAL
AGENTS
Men of Montana 11
EILEEN GREEN
Copyright © 2017
Prologue
Billows of smoke were rising above the nearest hills to the west from where Brooke Alton’s new office was situated. On the south end of Kalispell, Montana, she had chosen a newly built warehouse building to distribute their new line of computers. The upstairs office space was luxurious and more room than what she required, but she did like her space.
It had only been a couple of months since she had arrived back in Montana. Nightmares of her abduction had plagued her after she had returned to Atlanta, but now that she was back in the area of where it had happened, they had gotten worse. So, why had she moved here?
Good question.
The route she had taken to get here was different from the first one when she was going to California for her self-celebration of her graduation from college. She refused to go through Pueblo as there were too many memories of her abduction there. Heading north had been the best way to go, going through Chicago and the northern plains.
Ten months ago, she’d gotten on her Harley-Davidson Dresser in Atlanta and began a cross-country trip. Her father, who had raised her alone after her mother had passed away, had expressed his concerns about his only child riding alone. Too many things could happen, although what had transpired hadn’t been a thought.
She had decided to take a cross-country trip to celebrate her graduation from college. She had gotten as far as a pit stop at a truck stop in Pueblo and encountered a flat tire when she got back to her bike. As she was getting ready to call a repair shop to get it fixed, she was grabbed by a man in a van. A sharp prick to her neck soon brought on a darkness, indicating she had been drugged.
Waking slowly, she found she was not only surrounded by the aroma of fruit, but also by a wooden crate. Panic ensued as she found she wasn’t alone. Other people were in other crates, girls, while a little boy was in hers. They were in a truck that was moving, to where, only God knew where.
After speaking quietly with the others held in captivity with
her, she discovered she was the oldest of all of them and instinctively knew she needed to do whatever possible to help the others. The boy in her crate was getting sick, and Brooke had insisted the captors get him an inhaler for his asthma. Later, one of the little girls began to have the chills and came down with a fever.
Focusing on the welfare of the kids, Brooke pleaded with the men, Russians, pointing out that whoever was paying the men for their cargo wouldn’t want to take possession of sick people. Apparently, her pleas were answered, for a little while later, the truck was parked for quite a bit. When the back door was finally opened, a firefighter and a paramedic were with the men, though not by choice. Also, they had a high school aged girl whom they had kidnapped.
The girl appeared to be as terrified as what Brooke felt, and the men looked worried as the three Russian men had their guns aimed at the trio. After the newly arrived girl was caged, for that’s how Brooke was beginning to see their situation, their captors allowed the two sick kids to be treated.
Getting to work, the paramedic, Andrew Collins, treated first Petey, who was in with Brooke. The boy had begun to have an asthma attack as he was coming out of the anesthesia that had been administered when they were kidnapped. Andrew was able to leave an inhaler with Brooke to dispense the drug when needed. Next came Connie, who had developed a fever. There wasn’t much that could be done except give her some Tylenol, for Andrew was limited to what he had on hand.
The whole time that Andrew worked with Petey and Connie, the firefighter who was brought with him stood at the end of the truck, watching. The Russians kept an eye and a gun trained on him at all times.
From what Brooke could see from her position, they were in the mountains as pine trees, a dirt road, and a lot of brush on the ground were what she could see. Looking at the emblem on Andrew’s burnout coat, she saw that he was from Kalispell, Montana, and she knew that was a long way from Pueblo.
They are probably trying to get to Canada.
Once Andrew finished up what he had been brought in for, one of the tall Russians rushed in and handcuffed him to one of the crates. He didn’t fight them, but then, who would have with a gun staring you in the face?
The Russian jumped down from the back of the truck and rolled the door down behind him, blocking out the sunlight. But worse, they hadn’t brought in the firefighter.
Within a few moments, a gunshot rang out. The little kids screamed while Andrew fought against the metal shackle that held him captive. When the truck engine came to life and they began to move along the bumpy dirt road, Andrew settled down, his head bowed and turned away from Brooke. She knew he was crying.
Her heart went out to him, for she knew the two men had been friends. The kids with her all cried also as Brooke was becoming resigned to their fate.
The next day, rescue came to them in the form of Andrew’s friends. Some of them were law enforcement, and others weren’t. Andrew had told her that his friends stuck together and helped whenever help was needed, putting their own lives on the line because that was the type of people they were.
He had also spoken of his relationship with his lady love and his best friend with whom they had a polyamorous relationship. She had read romance stories with ménages in them, but Brooke had always thought those were just fiction. Andrew made it sound wonderful.
After their rescue, there were two men who seemed to gravitate to Brooke. Confusion reigned at what was going on until they finally sat her down before she left Kalispell and explained their intentions.
They had revealed that they had both fallen in love with her picture and were interested in beginning a relationship with her. With one of them, Frank Green, an FBI agent assigned to Denver, and the other, Bradley Smith, with Interpol, Brooke was convinced they would lose interest in her after she had returned to Atlanta.
They hadn’t.
Both men, on different assignments and even in different countries, continued to call her, wooing her long distance.
Brooke sat now in her office thinking about the men and her current relocation. She had convinced her father to let her lead the new computer line, but was surprised when he suggested she take it to Montana. One, operating costs would be cheaper there than in Atlanta, and two, it would give her the opportunity to work without him constantly looking over her shoulder. She was amazed at the last one since he had been such a strong force in her life for so long.
They were all they had, and when she had been kidnapped, he had nearly lost his mind. Looking for a way to be useful, he flew the corporate jet to Denver and gathered up the families of the kidnapped victims. Once they had heard of the rescue, they flew up to Kalispell to be reunited with their family members.
It been two and a half months since Brooke had gotten on her Harley for another trip to Montana. This time to stay. Tom Alton told Brooke that he would miss her, but he knew it was the best way for her to prove herself to the business. Also, she would have her own life, for he knew that Bradley and Frank were both pursuing her. That he wasn’t against it was what had surprised Brooke.
A knock at the door startled her, breaking through her web of thoughts. Turning the office chair around to face her main desk, she fluffed her hair, hoping she was presentable.
“Come in!”
The door opened quickly, revealing Brooke’s new secretary, Raven. Brooke had decided to go with someone younger, giving someone the opportunity at a career starting fresh out of college, but also someone Brooke hoped she could keep around for a long time.
Raven was twenty-three years old, a native of Kalispell and a member of the local Indian tribe. Jet-black hair hung down her back, a symbol of her Native American heritage along with almond-shaped brown eyes. She was fully qualified for the position, one of nearly seventy people who had applied. Jobs were desperately needed in the area, and Raven was constantly thanking Brooke for the chance at a career.
Dark brown eyes glittered with excitement as Raven entered the room. In her hand was a square glass vase under a beautiful display of pink, purple, and white calla lilies.
“More flowers, Miss Alton,” Raven announced cheerfully.
A blush spread across Brooke’s face according to the heat that rose there. She knew she didn’t have to read the card to know who they were from. If her father had sent them, they would have been yellow roses, the symbol of love.
No, Bradley and Frank knew her favorite colors along with her favorite flower and would send the calla lilies, trying to let her know they were paying attention to what she liked. It wasn’t that her father didn’t, but the yellow roses had begun when she was a child and he continued now that she was an adult.
Raven moved across the large office floor that was covered in a thick dark green carpet. Brooke had opted to make sure that the offices would remain warm in the winter since it was in a warehouse. The walls had been treated to an extra layer of insulation and the windows were triple paned. Since the building was a warehouse, she had an extra layer of insulation added to the ceilings here also.
Her, and her father’s, adage was happy employees made good employees.
The bouquet was set on the desk before Brooke where she had just put the previous days’ bouquet to the desk behind her. Fresh flowers had been delivered from one of the men every day since she had occupied the office. Usually they alternated days, although the previous week she noticed that Frank had sent the flowers for several days in a row. Their conversation that night on the phone confirmed that Bradley was on an assignment that left him without time or the ability to send on his usual days.
Brooke’s heart was beginning to melt toward her men. Even though they were hundreds, or even thousand miles away, they were still insistent on courting her.
“You really do have some admirers,” Raven continued.
“Yes, I do.” Brooke smiled shyly. “And I told you to call me Brooke. Nothing formal here.”
“Yes, Miss…Brooke,” the young woman corrected herself. “Also, there is a woman in
the lobby for you. She said her name is Gwen Bowers.”
“Oh, yes, send her in please.”
Excitement spread through Brooke. She had limited time to spend with the people who had helped rescue her and the others, but she had kept in contact with them. Gwen was Andrew’s woman who he shared with his best friend Jake. Brooke didn’t know why the woman was here, but she looked forward to talking to her.
“I’ll send her in.” Her secretary began to head to the door.
“Why don’t you go ahead and take your lunch now? I’ll lock up here when I go out.” Brooke smiled at Raven.
“Sure. I’ll be back in an hour and start on the new reports.”
Raven left, and within a minute, Gwen entered the office. Her golden-blond hair was set up in a ponytail, and she wore jeans and a light blue T-shirt. Brooke thought the woman was so beautiful with her aquamarine eyes and her full figure.
She knew that Gwen had had it rough since she was fifteen years old, and had been hesitant with getting involved in a ménage relationship, but she was very happy now. Brooke was pleased to call her and the other women in the area she had met friends.
“Hi, Brooke,” Gwen said, a smile plastered on her face. She always seemed to be smiling.
Brooke stood and moved around the desk to gather her friend in a hug. “It’s so good to see you again, Gwen.”
Taking her hand, Brooke led Gwen over to the light yellow linen couch under a large window that sat to the right of her desk along with two light green slipper chairs that sat across from it. A glass-and-chrome coffee table separated the grouping, giving a relaxing area to hold conversations.