Love Under Two Private Dicks [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  “Yeah. Best friends. Damn it, what a cluster fuck,” Mel said.

  “Kendall also contacted Grant and Andrew Jessop, who were spending the day in San Antonio at an Arson Investigation conference. They were already on their way home. They’ve adjusted their route and should be here in about thirty minutes.”

  “Let’s go,” Ace said. “We’ll take my SUV. We’ll all fit.”

  “I’d just be in the way,” Ethan said. “Y’all keep me posted. I’ll be saying a prayer for your success.”

  “Will do,” Mel said. He followed Ace and Kemp in a mass exodus out of the club to the parking lot. “Damn it to hell, we have two for certain and possibly three women in peril,” he said to no one in particular. “I guess we don’t have to worry about just cause now.”

  “Smith hurts Lucy, I’m going to fucking kill him,” O’Malley said.

  “Get in line,” Connor said. “He’s got our woman, too. As far as I’m concerned, he’s already a fucking dead man.”

  * * * *

  Everything inside Connor had turned to ice. He was on a mission—the most important mission he’d ever undertaken in his life. He felt the edges, the tension, and knew that he could be back in Afghanistan as far as his body was concerned.

  The only difference was that this time, it wasn’t him or his teammates who were in danger, it was his woman.

  They’d found Mel’s car, right where Emily Anne had parked it in front of Lucy Carter’s spa, with Lucy’s red Ford Escape conspicuously absent. Connor had taken a moment to retrieve his rifle from the back of the vehicle. As far as he was concerned, Baxter had forfeited his right to a trial the moment he’d put his hands on Emily Anne.

  If he got the chance, he was going to put the expensive sniper training he’d received from Uncle Sam to very good use.

  Owen had run next door—apparently Lucy’s brother had a tattoo place right next to her business—but Seth Carter hadn’t seen anyone or anything. He’d been in back with a client. He immediately wanted to drop everything and come with them, but Ace Webster had convinced him that any more people involved could just jeopardize the rescue.

  Seth hadn’t been very happy with that logic, but he agreed. He locked his sister’s place of business, and told them he’d be at The Dancing Pony, waiting for word with Ethan Grant.

  The GPS coordinates that Adam Kendall had sent to Sheriff Hank Stinson led them directly to Smith’s place.

  By the time they arrived on scene, Stinson had set up a perimeter on the Farm to Market road, the perimeter and the cops hidden from sight of the house by the natural undulations of the land.

  The sheriff stood, arms akimbo, and waited for him and Mel, and Ace and Kemp, to join him. O’Malley and Owen wisely hung back, but he’d bet they’d be able to hear everything just fine. He caught the movement of Owen nodding to the man, and the sheriff giving him a bare nod back. But that wasn’t, Connor knew, where the man’s attention was.

  Despite the sunglasses, Connor knew the sheriff’s gaze zeroed in on the weapon in Connor’s hand.

  Stinson looked up, took off his sunglasses, and met Connor’s gaze.

  “You know how to use that thing?”

  Connor reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open and handed it over. “I’m sniper qualified.”

  Stinson took a moment to examine his credentials. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. One question before we go any further. Why the hell wasn’t I informed that there was a murdering lunatic living in my jurisdiction?”

  Ace and Kemp looked to Mel to provide the answer.

  Smart men. Let the out of town guy draw the heat.

  “We didn’t know he was a murdering lunatic. We had suspicions that aside from robbing two young orphans of their inheritance, he’d also committed murder about fifteen years ago. But we only had suspicions. We were working on finding evidence sufficient for a warrant to search the place, and once we had that evidence, you were going to be our next stop, Sheriff. Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to any of us, Bruce Smith—aka Ralph Baxter—overheard our planning session this morning.” Then he looked at Connor for a moment, before he met the sheriff’s gaze again. “One of the women he’s taken as a hostage belongs to us, Sheriff.”

  “Right now, Mister Richardson, those women—all three of them—belong to me.”

  “All three of them?” Beck O’Malley came to stand beside Connor.

  “Apparently Miss Rhodes is also in that house. Her vehicle is that Lincoln parked over there. Her cell phone and purse are still on the seat.” He shook his head. “She locked her car, and then headed right into harm’s way. I just spoke to Adam Kendall, and he told me that it’d make perfect sense to her to try and rescue her friend.” Stinson gave what could have been a tight smile. “Then he mentioned something about wanting to go back in time and have a talk with one of his ancestors about Town Trust rules, whatever that means.”

  Connor felt the ice surrounding him begin to crack. He recalled hearing a similar lament from the man not that many months before when a crazy stalker chick had targeted his cousin, Rebecca Jessop.

  “Anyone know the setup of the house? Blueprints would be on file with the county, but if either of you has knowledge—from your legal surveillance from County property of course—I’d appreciate the heads-up.”

  “Yeah.” Connor asked for a piece of paper and then looked up for a surface to write on. Using the open tailgate of Ace’s SUV as a drawing board, he got to work. It didn’t take him long to sketch out the interior of Smith’s simple house.

  As he worked, he filled Hank Stinson in on the background. “He’s lived here since he fled here, assuming the name Bruce Smith, in the late nineteen nineties. He made off with nearly five million dollars that had been left to Chloe Rhodes and her sister, Carrie, on the death of their parents.” Connor was able to note the relative positions of windows and doorways, crucial information for the police operation about to unfold. “He had a partner in this crime, the lawyer assigned, by the state, to guard the children’s interests. That man’s name was Neil Jackson, and he has not been seen or heard from since. We suspect Baxter killed the man.”

  “What makes you think that—other than the obvious fact that while theft and misdirection of funds has a statute of limitations, murder does not?”

  Connor didn’t comment on the fact that Stinson had correctly surmised that he and Mel had wanted to get the bastard, statutes or no. “We traced the money to an account in the Cayman Islands,” Mel said. “All five million of it. It was withdrawn the same way a few months later, as a single, lump sum—and Jackson had already been reported as missing at that point. The man didn’t have the means to finance a couple of months in hiding.”

  “And when did Smith move in here?”

  “Before the money left the Caymans.”

  “He bought the place here before he absconded with the funds?”

  “Yeah,” Connor said, looking up from his drawing. “He’d borrowed a lot of money from the wrong people and had, we’ve guessed, planned to go into hiding anyway, when his luck at the craps table stayed sour. Then his business partner and that man’s wife got killed in a tornado in Tennessee, and suddenly—”

  “Suddenly the bastard felt like he’d won the fucking lottery.” Stinson said. “Okay, let’s see what you have here.”

  It didn’t take the sheriff long to formulate a plan. When he told Owen and O’Malley they had to stay with the vehicles, they weren’t happy about it, but they agreed. Ace, Kemp, Mel, and the sheriff and all but one of his deputies were going to surround the house. Connor was going to find that tree he and Mel had climbed previously.

  If that son of a bitch came out with a female hostage, which was very likely, Connor would have him in the crosshairs.

  He turned to head for his position.

  “Talbot, wait up. One more thing.”

  Connor turned to face Hank Stinson. The man looked at him for a long moment, and then sighed.

/>   “You’re now a duly sworn deputy of the sheriff’s department of the County of Divine. That means you may not kill that bastard. But you’re sniper qualified, so you should be able to wound him, if need be.” He waited a beat. “Don’t kill him unless you have absolutely no other choice.”

  Son of a bitch. He met the sheriff’s gaze for a long moment. It didn’t appear as if Stinson was going to move and he certainly wasn’t likely to back down. Finally, Connor nodded. “All right, Sheriff. I won’t shoot to kill unless I have to.”

  He headed toward his position, trying to decide where the most painful place would be for him to put a bullet in Ralph Baxter.

  Chapter 25

  The hardest thing Mel had ever done was cede control of this rescue mission to Hank Stinson. Not that he doubted the man’s smarts or ability, far from it. He’d heard only good things about the sheriff of Divine County before he’d ever thought he’d work with the man.

  He felt as if he should be the one leading the charge to get to Emily Anne. Stinson couldn’t possibly know what she meant to him and Connor.

  But as he’d listened to the way Hank had outlined the operation, he caught the thread of anger that ran deep and true through the lawman. Mel began to understand that in the way of a true alpha male in a position of authority, as far as he was concerned those women did belong to him, and he meant to get them out of harm’s way.

  “I’m in constant communication with my office. We figured Smith might have called us, or the State boys, threatening the women if we don’t give him space, but so far he hasn’t made a single call.” Then he picked up his cell phone. “You in place, Talbot?”

  Connor’s voice came through the phone, clear and just loud enough for the men standing with the sheriff to hear him. “I’m in place. All the drapes are still closed. I can’t see a damn thing.”

  “Do you think maybe he has them out with him in one of those sheds?”

  “Negative, Sheriff. All four sheds are locked up from the outside. They have to be in the house. Wish we had ears in there.”

  “You mean you don’t?”

  Mel shook his head and answered for them both. “No, we pulled them. We thought about just leaving them in place and letting the guy find them and think that his loan shark buddy was closing in on him, but we didn’t know what he’d do if he found them. So we pulled them.”

  Left unsaid was that he really wished, now, they hadn’t done that. It would be very helpful for them to know exactly what was going on in that house—where the women were, how the women were, and where Baxter was.

  Instead, they were going in to what could be a very dangerous situation, completely blind and deaf.

  “All right.” Stinson surveyed the small group. “We could wait for the State boys to get here, I guess, but then I’d have to turn the whole damn thing over to them. Not that I’d mind that, so much.”

  Yeah, right. Mel figured Hank Stinson was as much about control as a few other people he knew, including his own partner.

  “But I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to give Baxter any more time to plan, or to become agitated. So we go in low and quiet, and spread out. Focus on the point of entry you’ve been given. If I tell you to move, you move.”

  All of them were armed, and all of them, Mel knew, were professionals. Hank turned to the lone deputy he was leaving behind. “Anyone else shows up—we’re expecting a couple of firefighters named Jessop—you hold them back. Keep them with those other two, over there.” He indicated Owen and O’Malley.

  “That ought to be interesting,” Ace Webster said.

  Mel nodded. “Be more interesting to see what happens when we’ve got the all clear and those two big strapping firemen have a word with their fiancée about doing as she’s told.”

  “I’ve heard they make the women a little fearless over there in Lusty,” Ace said. “Nothing wrong with a fearless woman, in my opinion.”

  “To hear our sheriff tell it, the women—including his own wife—are a little too fearless.”

  Stinson had been listening to the exchange. He grunted, which could have meant anything but likely, Mel thought, indicated that he was with Adam Kendall on that one.

  Stinson met the gaze of each of the men. “Let’s go,” he said.

  Mel put aside every other thought and kept his concentration on the task at hand. They fanned out as they approached the house, hunkering down, staying low to the ground, moving quickly but quietly.

  The red Ford Escape that belonged to Lucy Carter was parked in the drive, close to the house. From the position of vehicle, Mel deduced Baxter had taken his hostages into the house through the back door.

  The gate had been opened, but not closed again.

  Mel took a moment to look over his shoulder. He didn’t need to see Connor to know the man was in that tree, his weapon aimed at the house. If Baxter realized he was surrounded, and decided to use one of the women as a human shield, it would likely be the last decision the bastard would ever make. His promise to Stinson aside, if Connor believed he had to, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill Ralph Baxter.

  The closer they drew to the house, the slower they moved. Each one of them, Mel knew, was very aware that surprise was of the essence, and currently on their side. Baxter had no way of knowing that he was moments away from being apprehended. Yes, Chloe Rhodes was in that building, too, but he’d bet that she would have denied having called anyone for help. That woman could think fast on her feet. Likely, she’d say she just happened to see her friend Emily Anne turn into the drive, and had thought to pop in and say hi.

  If Baxter had been alerted to impending trouble, he’d be peeking out the windows, watching for it. Those tightly closed drapes hadn’t moved. He knew Connor would alert Stinson if they did.

  Those window covers might hamper them, but it meant they still held the advantage. Most importantly, from an ops point of view, they kept those inside the house blind, too.

  Stinson had positioned himself to Mel’s left, and Ace Webster to his right. He couldn’t see the other two deputies or Kemp Whittier, but he knew they were there, and that the noose around Ralph Baxter was figuratively, if not literally, tightening.

  For one moment Mel’s thoughts went to his woman. They were supposed to go over to Clay Cook Jewelers’ this afternoon and pick up her engagement ring. Then, they’d planned on a nice early dinner and then a return to that parking spot they’d taken her to on their first date.

  They had a softer blanket in the back of the car and planned on spreading it out on the bank of the stream. They fully intended to make love to her there by the babbling water.

  Please, God, keep her safe. Keep them all safe.

  “What’s that?” Ace’s voice, just above a whisper, reached him.

  Mel heard it, too. He looked over at Ace. There’d been the sound of a voice—no, voices. They moved closer to the house and he heard them better. The voices were female, getting louder and they sounded pissed.

  If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was listening to the sound of two women, screaming at each other at the tops of their lungs.

  “Maybe he has the television on loud?” Ace asked. “It sounds like a movie with a cat fight going on.”

  Mel shrugged and looked over at Hank. That man had stopped moving and held his hand up, signally everyone to stop. Into the growing female-sounding melee, a man yelled. And then he yelled again, only this time it was a sound of surprise and distress.

  Loud thumping came from inside the house as if something heavy had fallen on a wooden floor, a thumping that continued on for at least thirty seconds.

  Mel jumped as a gunshot exploded from inside the small building.

  Hank Stinson surged to his feet, gun in hand. “Go, go, go!”

  Mel was up and running before Hank had finished giving the command. He didn’t think about anything but his woman, and getting to her on time. He hit the door first, Ace right behind him. Mel went in low, letting the other man take high, his gun i
n a two-handed police grip, ready, he was certain, for anything.

  Ready for anything except the sight that greeted him.

  * * * *

  “I’m all right. Really. He didn’t hurt me.” Emily Anne found herself sitting on an upturned crate that someone had brought over for her, with her men squatting in front of her. She could feel the anger rolling off them in waves. While she couldn’t blame them—they’d likely been worried sick about her—it was over, now. Ralph Baxter was in custody, sitting in the back of Hank Stinson’s cruiser.

  “I beg to differ.” Connor was holding one of her wrists and massaging it gently. The rope she’d been restrained with had left marks, but mostly because she’d tried to get free. She’d felt a little left out of the action as things had unfolded even though she’d agreed to the plan and done her part. She’d thought that if she could work the rough hemp off her wrists, she would be able to help the other women once the fur started to fly.

  In the end it hadn’t mattered, because when Baxter’s gun had gone flying from his fingers, she’d been able to scrabble after it, and grab it up, anyway.

  Unfortunately it had gone off when she’d gotten it in her hands. Fortunately, she hadn’t shot anyone and by then, Lucy and Chloe had tripped up the bastard when he’d tried to break up their “fight” and had him pinned down and were—more or less—sitting on him.

  Of course, Chloe had done a little more than just sit on the man, but who could blame her?

  She nearly chuckled recalling the sound of Ralph Baxter crying for his mother.

  Over by Lucy’s car, Lucy, Beck O’Malley and Patrick Owen were standing and chatting with Chloe, and wasn’t that a sight to see?

  Mel followed her gaze. “I thought the firemen would have been here by now. They must have hit—”