Love Under Three Valentinos [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  Mel reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a tablet. He took a moment, clearly getting something on the screen. He passed it to Kat. “Do these three look familiar?”

  She reached for the device and looked at the pictures, not affording herself the opportunity to brace or prepare in any way.

  And found herself staring into the faces of the three hoodlums who’d assaulted her.

  She thought she had a good poker face, but it didn’t fool her men. Paul, on her right, slipped his arm around her. On her left, Lucas laid his hand on her leg and squeezed. Behind her, Wesley’s hands caressed her shoulders.

  “Yeah. Those are them.” She looked up. “I’m glad your associates found them. Are they in custody?”

  Mel met her gaze. “The police can’t arrest them because, even though you’ve just identified them, and even though they’ve been looked at and are the only suspects in the case, there’s no solid evidence. There were no witnesses to the assault except the bartender and, while he came to your rescue and swung that bat, he didn’t get a good look at their faces. He wasn’t wearing his glasses. He couldn’t identify them.”

  “Likely, the moment they got picked up by the cops, there’d be a lawyer there to spring them. And because you suffered a concussion...” Adam let his sentence drop off.

  Because she’d been concussed, it would be her word against theirs—and they would very likely be able to provide air-tight alibis.

  “Well, that’s just not right!” Edna Lawson sounded incensed. “Katrina wouldn’t lie.”

  “No, ma’am,” Adam quickly agreed. “I know she wouldn’t. But this is one of the biggest challenges facing law enforcement. It’s not enough for us to know these men are guilty of assault. We have to be able to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt. Of course, that is a protection for all of us in this country, under the law. Justice truly is blind. She doesn’t distinguish between the guilty and the innocent in this regard, not without proof.”

  “I’m not surprised about that, either,” Kat said. “But it’s good we know who they are. What about their boss? What do we know about him?”

  “ICE would really like to have a conversation with the man,” Connor Talbot said. “Word on the street is his name is Leonardo Acosta.”

  “ICE wants him?” Kat couldn’t hold back her grin. “Does that mean he has no documentation?”

  “None that anyone’s been able to find. His last known official whereabouts was Salvador, Brazil. The information my contacts were able to ascertain is there’d been a falling out between him and his boss. That dispute splintered the organization he worked for. Since there were too many dissenters to just kill off, the head of that cabal offered Acosta and his men a free ride—to the United States.”

  “Well, if that agency ever issues a warrant for his arrest, I just might grab the paperwork and then the man—gratis.”

  Connor and Mel looked at each other and grinned. “That’s nice to know,” Connor said.

  “I can certainly pass that along to my contact in LA,” Mel said.

  Adam held up his hand. “Let’s change the subject so I can discuss one more aspect of your situation. Then I’ll leave.”

  Kat met Adam’s gaze. She felt the smile slide off her face. “The sniper.”

  “The sniper.” Adam’s mouth, pursed in a frown, gave all the information she needed to know his opinion of a man who’d kill for a living. “There was no physical evidence left at the scene. However, a young man came forward to the LA County Sheriff’s Department and reported seeing a car parked about a quarter mile west of your house about a half hour before the shooting.” Adam shot a look at Paul. “He didn’t see anyone in or near the vehicle, and thought the car had been stolen, and then abandoned. The witness took down the plate number. The Sheriff handed that info to Bannister, who was able to trace the plate to a car rental agency at L.A X. The ID used to rent the car was a Colorado driver’s licence with a bogus address. Bannister got a court order to review footage of the arrivals gates for the few flights that landed from there in the time frame, and the rental agent pointed out our suspect. So it seems likely that the man with the high-powered rifle is from Colorado.”

  “Colorado?” Kat looked at Paul and then Lucas.

  “Isn’t that where Larry Borden was in jail?” Wesley asked. “Where he was murdered?”

  “That’s just too much of a coincidence. Why would the man who ordered Borden’s death also order mine?”

  “That’s an interesting question, and one we don’t have an answer for, yet. But the cops in LA are working on it, as are the cops in Colorado.”

  “If this was part of a movie script,” Paul said, “I’d guess the answer was that whoever ordered Borden’s death thought you knew something, and he was worried you’d open your mouth and cause him grief.”

  Adam leaned forward, his arms on his knees. “All we’ve got at this point is speculation. This means that you still have to keep your eyes open. Here, yes, but especially when you go back to the Coast, back to LA.” He looked from her to her men. “That is where you’re going, isn’t it?”

  Kat felt all eyes focus on her. The men didn’t answer, leaving it for her to decide, and for her to say. But there was really no decision to be made. Paul had been right.

  She had to get back on that damn horse before she decided if she wanted another mount—or if she was going to give up riding altogether.

  “Yes.” She met Adam’s gaze. “I’ve got some unfinished business back in LA.”

  Paul’s hand covered hers. “We’ve got some unfinished business. You’re not in this alone anymore, Kitty-Kat.”

  “Damn straight.”

  Lucas and Wesley had said that together, and to Kat’s amazement, Anna nodded in agreement. And maybe, judging from their mother’s expression, that nod signalled her approval of her sons’ attitude.

  Two months ago, she’d have argued the point. Now, she just marveled that hearing the brothers Jessop state what was for them the obvious gave her such a solid, warm feeling inside.

  Kat looked at Adam. “I stand corrected. We’ve got some unfinished business back in LA.”

  Adam grinned. “Then I best get out of here and leave y’all to your discussion. What I don’t know, I can’t testify to.”

  Kat wasn’t fooled. Adam Kendall—like every man in Lusty that she’d met—was a man who took care of his own. He’d have joined in the planning if he’d been needed.

  It looked like the next step was finally about to begin.

  Chapter 21

  They wanted her to carry a gun, but she’d said no. Kat understood their anxiety. She also knew that because she refused to arm herself in that way they’d have their weapons close at hand.

  “Damn it, woman.” Wesley’s face did an excellent job of declaring his displeasure.

  “One more thing.” She might as well get all their anger out there at once. “You have to promise me that you’ll stay out of it.”

  All three men let a few choice words fly at that, and there wasn’t a golly gee whiz in the bunch. Wesley and Lucas looked at Paul, who apparently accepted the responsibility to speak on their behalf.

  “Can’t promise that, Kitty-Kat. You’re our woman, and we’re not about to see you rushed into the ER again, not if we can help it.”

  “Then there’s no point in doing this.” She met Paul’s gaze and then Luke’s and finally Wesley’s. She’d never believed she would ever truly love one man, let alone three. She wasn’t even sure how the hell it had happened.

  But here she was, having already said “yes” to marrying and living the rest of her life making love under three Valentinos.

  She just needed to do one teeny tiny little thing first.

  She turned her attention back to Paul. “You’re the one who said I had to get back on my horse. And you were right.”

  Kat looked at her men, her mind scrambling to find just the right words. Standing back, mostly out of hearing, her brother, Eric, and Co
nnor Talbot stood, on guard and ready. They’d all tried to argue that fair was fair—six against three were better odds than the three against one those gangbangers had given her.

  They were better odds, but better odds was not what she needed.

  “Damn it, Kat, yes, get back on that horse. But don’t walk into another fucking ambush.”

  “I won’t be. They’re coming to me, remember? Plus, you’ll be here. I’m not asking you to stand by and watch me get killed. Of course I’m not. But I need to face them. I need to know that, even though I am scared down to my toes, I can still do what I need to do to get the job done. I need this for me.” She tilted her head to one side. “Men need to feel they hit the mark, as men, that they can be a man. In that same way, I need to know I can do this.”

  In their eyes, she saw their understanding. They immediately seemed to go to that Zen place where the three of them communicated without words. Then Paul met her gaze and nodded.

  They didn’t like it, but they were willing to let her have her way—because they understood her and, yes, they loved her.

  “They’re five minutes out.” Connor and her brother approached.

  That was the cue for everyone to get into their “place.” Just like on a movie set. Connor’s right hand was pressed to the bud in his right ear. He lowered his hand and nodded. “They definitely took the bait. Johnny says they were practically salivating.”

  Kat could just imagine.

  She looked around at her surroundings. This small piece of the Port of Los Angeles waterfront had been rented out by the guys, under the guise of it being needed for a “production.” There was a chest-high railing to prevent anyone from accidently slipping into the waters of San Pedro Bay. This close to port traffic, and with its unique aroma assaulting her nose, Kat didn’t doubt that being dunked would be an extremely unpleasant experience.

  She turned from her quick perusal of the water. The warehouse, which stood a good hundred feet back from the water’s edge, looked like any other—in need of paint, certainly, but sturdy enough to get the job done. The large loading door gaped open to about six feet. Lined up on either side of that door, in a triangular pattern, crates measuring about four foot square appeared to have been stacked haphazardly, as if the work day had ended and the workers had just left the job incomplete.

  She scanned each stack of crates and located which ones the men were hiding behind. And then she frowned when she saw Paul, in plain sight, sitting atop one crate as if he didn’t have a care in the world. She knew if she stepped closer, she’d see his Glock on the wood beside him.

  He met her gaze, his eyes reflecting his determination. Like his brothers, he had a line below which he would not sink. Clearly, they’d reached that place. “Deal with it.”

  There wasn’t time to deal with it. Despite that little bit of last minute ad lib, the script had been written, the scene had been set, and someone, metaphorically, had just called “action!” The sound of a car braking hard on pavement drew her attention to the left. A somewhat rusty red Chevy, one also in need of a good washing, had come to a sudden stop about fifty feet from where she stood.

  Two front doors and one rear door sprang open at the same time, and her assailants emerged from the vehicle.

  “Hey, bitch cop. Did you think you could escape? We found you, and now we’ve come to finish what we started a few weeks ago.”

  “You found me? What makes you think I didn’t lure you here?”

  The man who seemed to be the chatty one—likely the leader of the trio—nodded toward Paul. “That your boyfriend? If you say you lured us here, I guess you must be afraid to meet us alone.”

  “I’m not the coward here. I’m not the one who needed two buddies to back him up against one skinny gringa.” She recalled the entire scene from before in a heartbeat, every word they’d hurled to taunt her and even what they’d said they were going to do to her before they killed her.

  “Your boyfriend is going to get to watch us beat you. Then he can watch us fuck you.”

  “Actually, I’m here to watch her wipe the floor with you.” Paul looked as laid back as she’d ever seen him, but she knew he was pissed.

  Kat had hoped to shame the bastards into coming at her, one at a time. Looking at them now as they approached, she realized something she hadn’t when they’d ambushed her on that city sidewalk. These three thugs weren’t men, fully grown. They weren’t much more than teenagers.

  But that didn’t make them any less dangerous. In fact, it was altogether possible that their egos were too big to allow them to “negotiate.” Still, it was worth a try.

  The leader spat toward Paul. “You gringos don’t know how to handle your women. Watch, and learn.”

  Paul nodded. “Don’t worry. I plan to.”

  “So what’s it going to be, hot shot? You need your buddies to back you up again, like last time?” Kat treated him to as insolent a look as she can manage. “Yeah, maybe you’d better get their help. You’re not man enough to take me on all by yourself.”

  “I don’t need their help, gringa.”

  “Prove it, Tommy.”

  All three began to move toward her. The leader—she’d learned his name when Connor had come to the house back in Lusty—said something in a rapid Spanish to the others. They scowled and said something back.

  “Don’t worry, mi amigos. I’ll let you have a piece.” Then he stalked toward her.

  His first lunge was expected, and careless. Kat grabbed him and used his own momentum to push him past her. Raising her leg, she helped him along by booting him in the ass.

  She could have taken him down immediately, but what was the fun in that?

  He spun around, the snarl changing his pretty-boy face into something ugly. That’s his inner self shining through. Kat shut down the smartass within and focused on the job at hand. She changed her position slightly so she didn’t have her back to the other two. She could see them out of her peripheral vision, and that was good enough.

  “I guess I shouldn’t really blame you. You’re just a lap dog, a tough-guy wannabe who’s hanging onto the coattails of a real man. Leonardo says jump, and you jump. I wonder if you suck him off, too.”

  Kat saw the anger and the hatred.

  “Senor Acosta is a real man, and I am his valued employee.”

  “That’s what some of those poor bastards thought down in Brazil, too.”

  Tommy lunged again, fists out, and this time she met him head-on, blocking his strong, undisciplined blows and landing a jab that jerked his head back and split his lip.

  He put the back of his hand against his lip, blotting the blood. His gaze flicked down to the red dripping off his hand. The anger in his eyes morphed to a crazed kind of cruelty. He flexed his arm.

  The sun glinted off the knife he held in his hand.

  Kat saw Paul stiffen and sit straight. She caught the smirks on the faces of Tommy’s buddies. A shiver coursed down her back. She’d known he carried a knife, as it had made a brief appearance in their last confrontation.

  She could not let the fear, the sick dread coiling in her belly, stop her.

  “Oh please, can this get any more clichéd?”

  Tommy came forward a step at a time, sweeping his knife side to side, jabbing out with it, so deep in his own fury that he didn’t register her stance or the fact that fear was nowhere in her expression.

  “I’m gonna cut you. You’re going to bleed.”

  “Stupid idiot. Knives aren’t for jabbing.” She kicked out with her right foot and connected his wrist perfectly. The knife spun into the air. She kicked out a second time with the same foot, nailing him square in the balls, and then caught the knife in her right hand. “They’re for throwing.” Spinning on her left foot, she pivoted and let the blade fly.

  The hood just raising his gun screamed and dropped his weapon when the cold steel stuck in his arm.

  “Don’t do it!” Paul had launched himself off the crate, his gun in a two-handed p
olice grip, pointed straight at the third thug, who’d been reaching for his own weapon.

  The rest of the men emerged, her brother heading straight for Tommy while Connor went to the aid of the man wearing a switch blade. Lucas and Wesley both had weapons drawn, held in a professional manner, their focus totally on the three gangbangers.

  Tommy cried out in pain. Kat turned her head toward him, saw the blood trickling down from his nose. Sirens split the air, signaling the approach of the police. Kat reached under her T-shirt and turned off the wire she’d been wearing so that the police who’d been listening in—specifically Detective Bannister and an assistant DA—could no longer hear what was happening.

  Eric’s expression held the kind of false innocence he used to wear as a kid. It was a light kind of expression she hadn’t seen on him in years.

  “Sorry. I guess my fist slipped when I was trying to turn him over.” Which he did immediately, pulled Tommy’s arms behind his back, and snapped on the handcuffs.

  Three black and white units and one unmarked car squealed to a stop behind Tommy’s Chevy. Travis Bannister approached with another suit on his heels—likely the ADA—his eyes taking in the scene.

  He pointed to Tommy. “Does he need an ambulance?”

  Kat felt more than a little cocky. She inwardly cringed at the mental pun. “No, just a bag of ice for his man parts.” Adrenalin was still speeding through her blood stream. Experience told her she’d come down in a couple of minutes.

  Travis lost the battle to hide his smirk. He looked at one of the uniformed officers. “Get an ambulance.”

  He approached and grinned. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you in action.” Kat looked up at the top corner of the warehouse. She’d done her best not to look toward the camera, not wanting to give anything away.

  “It wasn’t a fair fight,” she said. “The guy was a hothead, with no real skill and no discipline.”

  “I know.”

  The look in Travis’s eyes told her that he did know, and now she did, too.