Mastering Angela [Passion Peak, Colorado 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Tara Rose

“At my house. Why?”

  “Where were you about an hour ago?”

  “Tommy, what the fuck? Are you drunk? You been watching too much NCIS or something?” He didn’t have time for this shit. He only wanted to hear from Angela. They both did.

  “Don’t fuck with me, Nash. Where were you both an hour ago?”

  Tommy’s voice was all business.

  “We were here. You can speak to my staff. All of them. We had dinner, drank a few beers, and now we’re watching shitty crap on TV. Why?” The hairs on the back of Nash’s neck prickled. Had something happened to Angela? Nash grabbed the remote and turned down the sound. He cut his gaze to Ian, whose face had suddenly gone pale. “Is Angela okay?”

  “I have no idea. I’m not calling about Angela. I’m calling about Brett.”

  “What about him?” If he’d posted another video, that was it. He and Ian would kill him, and no jury in Passion Peak would ever convict them.

  “He’s in the hospital. Someone beat the shit out of him. His right collarbone is broken, he has cracked ribs, and his face looks like Stallone’s did at the end of every Rocky movie.”

  Ian’s face visibly relaxed. Nash put the phone on the arm of his chair and put it on speaker so that Ian could hear. “Tommy, anyone in this town could have done that.”

  “I know. Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t you two.”

  “It wasn’t, but I wish it had been.”

  “No you don’t, buddy. I’m not kidding when I tell you he’s in a bad way.”

  Nash didn’t give a shit how badly Brett was hurt.

  “But why did you ask me about Angela? Isn’t she there with you?”

  He and Ian exchanged a look. Shit. Why the hell had he said anything? He gave Tommy the short version.

  “Don’t you two have keys?”

  “No. We talked about it but she never had them made, and she’s spent so much time here that we just didn’t think about it.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine. Just give her time.” Tommy’s voice was empathetic, and Nash was grateful.

  After Nash disconnected the call, he glanced at Ian. “I still wish we’d been the ones to beat the shit out of Brett.”

  “I know. Me, too.”

  “But I’m glad someone finally did. I wonder who it was?”

  Ian shrugged. “Could have been almost anyone.” He nodded toward the phone. “Want to try Angela again?”

  Nash shook his head. “No.”

  “Want to go over there again?”

  “I wish we had keys.”

  “Me, too.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  Nash sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Truthfully? Go back about a week. That way we could tell her about Brett being at the club. And then we’d show her everything I found in the basement. None of this would have happened.”

  “You figure out how to do that, Nash, and I’m there with you, buddy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  When Angela woke up a third time, it was still dark. What time was it? What day was it? She rolled out of bed and nearly fell to the floor. Her legs were trembling and her head was spinning. Or was that the room moving?

  She made it to the bathroom in time to retch over the toilet, but this time nothing came up. Thank goodness. After she was sure that was the end of her stomach revolting in anger, she took a very long shower. Water had such cleansing properties, literally and figuratively. Angela couldn’t believe how much better she felt when her hair was clean and she’d put on fresh clothes.

  She put the ones she’d been sleeping in next to the laundry hamper in her room, then after glancing inside it, carried all the dirty clothes down to the washer and started the large load. She decided to eat again and, after rummaging around in her kitchen cupboards, settled on oatmeal. Nothing else looked appetizing.

  About halfway through the bowl, she finally glanced at the clock on her microwave. It was three in the morning. Who ate oatmeal at three in the morning? And what day was it? Panic over not knowing how long she’d been asleep sent her mind racing back to that damn pink blister pack in her purse, but this was the week her period was due, so technically she didn’t need to take the inactive pills. Still, she wanted to maintain the habit so she never forgot pills again, so she went in search of her purse.

  When she opened the pack, she was surprised to see it was the last day of the inactive pills. That meant she should already be on her period. Angela’s cycle was usually like clockwork. The second day of the inactive pills was always the start of her period, although they were very light. That meant she was five days late.

  The blister pack slipped from her fingers as hot fear raced through her. It was as if tiny fire ants had suddenly entered her bloodstream and were now doing a dance throughout her body. She tried to calm down. So much had changed in her life lately. Stress could delay a period. She might even start to skip them. Her doctor had told her that wasn’t unusual for someone on the pill.

  But then she remembered how many times this past month she’d forgotten to take one, including six days ago when she’d forgotten one for over twenty-four hours. “No,” she whispered, slipping to the carpet, next to the blister pack. “No.”

  It couldn't be true. She couldn’t be pregnant. Not possible.

  But it was possible.

  Angela shook her head back and forth until she became dizzy again. She had to find out. But how? What the hell could she do at three in the morning, on a Sunday? Walk down to Taylor Drugstore and waltz in to buy a pregnancy test? After the entire town of Passion Peak must have seen that YouTube video by now? No fucking way. Not a chance. Everyone would assume it was Brett’s baby.

  She had to tell Nash and Ian. No. She mentally pushed that thought away. No fucking way was she saying anything to them until she was certain, and even then… Oh God… She didn’t want them to want her back because she was pregnant. She wanted them to want her back because they forgave her for acting like an ass, and because they loved her. Angela went in search of her phone, and when she saw how many text messages and calls she’d missed, she started to cry.

  There were several from Carma, all telling her that she was worried about her, and that no one was upset with her, and begging her to call or text. Mateo and Blaine had even each sent her one, reassuring her that they were her friends, too, and that friends stuck together. Angela wiped her eyes as she read them again and again. They weren’t upset with her. She could hardly believe it. She was going to text Carma back but decided to wait until morning. She didn’t want to wake anyone up in the middle of the night.

  Rowena had sent ten long text messages, filled with worry and expressing the same things that Carma, Mateo, and Blaine had said, including an offer to hire a hit man to take care of Brett that had Angela almost laughing as she read it. She’d call Rowena in the morning as well. Even Tommy had sent her one, telling her that he’d driven past the condo and noticed lights on, so he had called Ian and Nash to let them know she was all right. That meant they must have sent him over to check on her. They wouldn’t have done that if they didn’t want her back, right?

  She left the messages from Nash and Ian for last, savoring each one as she read it over and over.

  “Baby girl, please call or text. We just want to know you’re all right.”

  “Love, we’re afraid for you. Please let us know you’re okay.”

  “Angela, we stopped by, but you must have been asleep. Please let us know you’re okay. And make us keys. Please.”

  “Baby girl, we are so sorry we didn’t tell you about Brett being at the club. We didn’t want to worry you, so we simply took care of it. Please forgive us.”

  “Love, we’re sorry we didn’t tell you about the old family documents in my basement. Please call or text. We’ll tell you the entire story.”

  “Angela, Tommy just called. Brett is in the hospital. I’m glad he got beat up. Sorry if that sounds mean, but he had it coming for what he did to you.”

  T
hey weren’t upset with her. She hadn’t lost them. Her heart was filled with so much joy that she could barely breathe. And they had been here. That was the pounding on her door that she’d heard. They’d come back here to check on her. That meant that everything was all right, despite what she’d done.

  She briefly wondered who had beat up Brett and wasn’t shocked to realize that she also didn’t care. She only cared about Nash and Ian. She had to see them again and explain everything. She had to apologize, but she wanted to do it in person, after she found out if she was pregnant.

  Angela debated for ten minutes whether to text them back now, and finally decided not to. If they were awake, she wouldn’t have time to find a drugstore and get a pregnancy test, and she couldn't talk to them without knowing. She searched online for a drugstore in Meeker or Rifle, the two closest towns, and pumped her fist in the air when she realized the Walmart in Meeker was open all night. Perfect. No one there would recognize her, and she could even hide in the bathroom and do the test right there, after she bought it.

  The fourteen-mile drive only took ten minutes because there was literally no traffic on Colorado State Highway 64. Hardly anyone was in the Walmart, so Angela was back in her car, with the pregnancy test in hand, no more than half an hour after she’d left her condo. But what to do now? Go back inside and find out, or drive home and do it?

  Angela played everything over in her mind that had happened during the past few weeks, leading to the events of Saturday morning. The guys were worried about her, and obviously didn’t hate her. They had a right to know whether she was pregnant, and they’d want to find out along with her, not after the fact. She didn’t know why she’d even debated this. There was only one clear answer here. There always had been.

  She was in love with both of them, and she might be pregnant with one of their children right now. Even if she wasn’t, they had a right to know how she felt, and they had a right to know that her period was late. They’d expect her to tell them something like that. They wanted to know everything about her, every single day, and she had grown to love that about them.

  No one—not even her parents—had made such a constant fuss over her, or made sure she was happy and had what she needed. She missed that already, just being away from them for a day and a half. She’d grown to depend on the structure and the rules they’d given her, as much as she’d come to love the way they wanted to know every detail of what she was thinking and planning.

  It was dominant behavior, but not in a destructive or abusive way. They were helping her on the road to becoming a better person. They brought out the best in her and praised her for everything she did. They cherished her, respected her, and showed her so much love that at times her heart had been ready to burst. The words might not have been spoken, but they had shown it in a hundred little ways, every single day.

  And how had she repaid them? By throwing them out of her condo at the very moment when all three of them should have been together, working out a way to deal with the video Brett had posted. She didn’t deserve their dozens of worried and affectionate text messages and voice mails. And they certainly didn’t deserve to be kept in the dark about her possible pregnancy.

  Angela put the car in gear and drove down State Highway 64, taking Sunflower Trail because it was faster. On the way up the hill, she stopped when she spotted what looked like lights on Nash’s property. Were the guys outside? She watched for a moment, and then rolled down her car window to see if she could hear anything.

  Snatches of conversation floated easily down the slope in the cool night air, but she couldn’t quite make out the words. There were two, maybe three, distinct voices, but she couldn’t tell if one of them belonged to Nash or Ian. What the hell was going on up there?

  Angela texted both of them, trying to explain where she was and what she saw, and hoped like crazy the auto correct mistakes would still make sense when they read them. Then she called their numbers, but both phones went to voice mail. Either they were asleep, or they were up there but didn’t have their phone with them. She wasn’t even sure if Ian had spent the night.

  And if it wasn’t Nash or Ian up there, who was it? And how had they gotten over the wall? The wall…she suddenly remembered where she’d been on the property when she’d asked Nash about this road and the fence around his property. The abandoned mineshaft was up there. Was that where the men were? But why?

  Rowena’s words yesterday morning came back to her. Jason Monroe and Trace Coleman were related, and she’d also said something about Jeb Monroe, Jason’s grandfather, being tied up in business dealings with Carma’s great uncle. But what did that have to do with the mineshaft? She remembered wondering if something was hidden in it, and if Nash had uncovered that in the documents he’d found. Maybe it was Nash and Ian up there, and she simply hadn’t recognized their voices?

  She scanned the tree line, keeping her gaze close to eye level, but it was too dark to see anything. No one could have scaled this wall. It had to be Nash and Ian up there. Angela pulled over to the side of the road and got out of her car. “Nash! Ian! Is that you up there? Can you hear me? I’m down here on Sunflower Trail. I can’t reach you on your phones.”

  Angela stood still and waited, wondering if that had been the best idea when all sound seemed to stop, including the insects that had previously been singing. Good job, Davidson. If those men up there aren’t Nash or Ian, you just let them know you’re down here.

  She eased back into the driver’s seat and tried again to scan the wall. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness now, and she held her breath as her vision focused on what she swore were ladders. They were dark, silhouetted against the brick wall, but they were there. She couldn’t deny it even though she wanted to.

  “Fuck.” Hot fear coursed through her, making the hair on her arms stand up and her stomach cramp again. No. This was not the time to throw up. She had to get help, and fast.

  Angela dialed the Passion Peak police station and asked for Tommy Farley. Then she waited for what seemed like forever. Why was she still sitting here? She should drive around to the front of the house and see if she could wake up one of Nash’s staff by pounding on the front door. She didn’t have a key to the house, but she had the code to the main gate. It would give her something to do besides wait on hold.

  She was about to put the car in gear but stopped when a sound up the hill drew her attention to the bobbing lights coming toward her. If those men were Nash and Ian, why would there be ladders here? Time to get the hell of here before the men got down the slope.

  But who were they? They’d get away unless she was able to identify them.

  “Angela? What’s going on?” She breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Tommy’s voice on the phone.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Nash startled awake, convinced he’d heard the sound of chirping. What time was it? He glanced around. Where the hell was he? The TV was still on, and Ian was sound asleep in the chair next to his. They’d both fallen asleep in the media room.

  He glanced at the clock on the cable box. It was nearly four in the morning. The chirping must have been on TV. Nash flipped it off. After Tommy had called them around eleven to say he’d driven past Angela’s condo and saw lights on and a figure moving around inside, they’d decided to wait for her to call rather than going to her condo again, since they’d at least known she was all right and home, safe and sound.

  Nash was about to go upstairs and try to get some sleep when he glanced down, realizing what the sound was that he’d heard. His phone. His phone. “Angela…”

  He read her text three times then called Tommy, only to be told that Tommy was on the phone with Angela. What? “Tell him to get over here, fast. And you’d better send a few more cars.” He tried to explain the text from Angela, but he was all mixed up and running on pure adrenaline, so he had no idea if they’d understood him.

  Hell, he wasn’t sure he understood it. Was Angela at the mine shaft or on Sunflower Trail?
He still wasn’t sure. And why was she here in the middle of the night?

  He woke up Ian, and both men ran outside and toward the shed where the tractors were kept. Nash grabbed two high-powered flashlights and started up the ATV. He and Ian sped toward the mineshaft. It wouldn’t be easy to reach it this way, and he’d have to go a bit slower than he wanted to so they didn’t run the vehicle up on a rock or a bush, but it would be a lot quicker than riding horses.

  When they were about halfway there, Nash heard sirens in the distance. “About fucking time!” he shouted over the noise of the motor. Ian nodded.

  They reached the mineshaft, but no one was there. Nash turned off the ATV and scanned the area, then shone his flashlight down the slope. Something caught the beam and his heart nearly stopped as he realized it was Angela’s car, parked on Sunflower Trail. Why the fuck hadn’t he gone down there first? He heard shouts and saw flashing lights. What the hell was going on down there? Was Angela all right?

  “Come on,” he called to Ian. The two slid down the slope, and Nash found the hidden gate and fumbled his keys trying to open it. A steady stream of curse words filled the air before he finally got the fucking thing open and ran out onto the road.

  He stopped short at the sight in front of him, his brain frozen in fear. Every damn police car on the Passion Peak police force had to be there. But where was Angela?

  “Nash… Ian…” Her voice was like manna from heaven. He turned toward it, and then she was running into his arms, babbling about ladders and mineshafts and Walmart. He didn’t even try to process her words. He simply held her, vowing never, ever, ever to let her go again, no matter what she said or did.

  Ian grabbed her out of his arms and pulled her close, and Nash didn’t even have to ask. He knew with one look at his friend’s face that Ian had just vowed the exact same thing.

  * * * *

  “Want to know what we found here tonight?” asked Tommy. Angela didn’t look at him. She never wanted to let go of Ian or Nash.