by Mari Carr
“This is so fucking hot,” Langston murmured. “I love watching his cock sliding in and out of you. Love playing with your sweet clit.”
“Close,” Mina gasped.
“Me too,” Rich moaned.
“I can’t wait to see you come on his cock. I know how hot and tight your pussy gets when you come.”
“Oh God,” Rich murmured. “I can’t hold on… Damn it, untie me so I can—”
“You can’t do anything but take it,” Langston said.
“Harder,” Mina begged. “No wait, faster. I mean…”
Langston lifted his thumb from her clit, stuck it in his mouth again, then brought his hand back to her pussy. His slick finger circled her clit, then swiped up and down in a hard, fast rhythm.
Mina screamed, her hands shooting out to grab his head. Langston’s yelp of surprise was muffled against her as she forced his head against her breasts. He sucked the closest nipple into his mouth and bit down gently.
He felt her muscles tremble, then heard Rich’s shout as he too came. For a moment they stayed like that, connected, balanced on the pinnacle, then Mina’s arms relaxed and Langston lifted his face away from her, dropping back on the bed. He dragged in air a second before Mina tipped forward, collapsing across him, her hips still astride Rich, his cock buried inside her.
Langston propped his head on Rich’s knee, Mina’s cheek on his chest.
Their panting breaths were the only sound for a long time.
Rich shifted, and Mina moaned. His cock must still be semihard. Langston’s was, too, or maybe he was getting hard again.
“Now,” Rich murmured. “Untie me. It’s my turn.”
Mina raised her head and kissed Langston’s chin.
“Should we untie him?” he asked.
“I don’t know, I liked this,” Mina murmured.
“I’m going to untie him, only because I’m worried about his circulation.” Langston slid out from under Mina. Just to torment Rich, he took his time, standing beside the bed and stretching, then stopping to watch Mina lift her pussy off Rich’s dick.
Somewhere in the pile of clothes, a phone was buzzing, but Langston ignored it. It took him a few minutes to undo the knot on Rich’s left wrist, which had tightened, thanks to his struggling.
“When I tie you up,” Rich promised darkly, “I’ll use bondage restraints. Then I can keep you there all fucking night.”
“Promises, promises,” Mina murmured.
“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to Langston.”
Langston finished with the first arm, then circled around to work on the other while Rich rotated his wrist.
The phone was still buzzing, and as Langston reached for the other wrist, the buzz turned into a loud beep. As one, they turned to look at the floor.
“Is that one of those weather alerts?” Mina asked.
Attention, dipshit. Pick up your phone, a tinny voice yelled before it went back to beeping.
“What the fuck?” Rich asked.
Langston dove for his pants. “That’s Oscar. He has some special alert he can send. Makes our phones ring and turn on even if we don’t want them to. Got paranoid after Sylvia was kidnapped.” He found the phone and yanked it out.
Ten missed calls.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Oscar, what’s wrong?” he answered.
“Someone just broke into your house. Get your ass back here.”
Chapter Fourteen
Mina rubbed her eyes wearily as she listened to Oscar go into great detail about the series of alarms and fail-safes the thieves had tripped when they’d broken into the barn. There was something about a drone and sensor alarms as well as a camera. She’d exchanged glances with Rich several times, and it was apparent by the look in his eyes, he no longer understood a single word the MIT grad was talking about, either.
What it basically boiled down to was, a highly skilled thief had bypassed some of the security—the more visible aspects, such as the cameras, which had been disabled with a laser pointer. They hadn’t avoided other, more state-of-the-art and innovative aspects of the security, but Oscar had been asleep and hadn’t heard those immediately.
The brothers had a small side argument about Oscar’s sleep. It sounded to Mina like Langston might be worried Oscar was using, and maybe abusing, sleeping pills, but she would ask him more about that later.
They’d been inventorying Langston’s lab and apartment for hours. So far, nothing was missing. Whoever broke in had made a mess, but Langston couldn’t seem to find whatever it was the thief was after.
The fact that computer equipment, as well as various expensive-looking machines, had been left gave Mina a very bad feeling. Or maybe that was just the result of a lack of sleep.
“What the fuck?” Langston muttered for the four-millionth time.
“I’m so sorry about all your things,” Mina said.
“Things?” Langston repeated, partially annoyed by the non-descriptor, partially devastated. “They trashed my AFP bot. Do you know how long it took me to build that?”
Mina didn’t even know what an AFP bot was, so she decided to fake it. “They’re assholes. Total assholes.”
She’d hoped her weak attempt at humor would land. And it did briefly. Langston gave her a ghost of a smile before his eyes landed on another piece of destruction.
“I don’t get it. I just don’t fucking get it,” Langston said, running a hand over his face wearily. “Nothing was taken. Why do this? Why trash the place?”
Mina and Rich were all but useless when it came to sorting through the lab, so around four a.m., they’d gone upstairs to start cleaning the apartment. There’d been less destruction there, though most of the drawers in the kitchen had been pulled out and upended. An hour later, with the apartment looking far better, they’d gone back downstairs.
Langston and Oscar had been taking stock of the shelves of what she thought was electronic junk.
She and Rich had again done their best to help, but by the time the sun rose, they were all punchy from exhaustion and worry.
Rich cried uncle first. “I think we need to take a break, step away from this. What do you say we go grab some breakfast, maybe a bit of sleep, then come back and start fresh?”
Mina was all in on that idea. Her eyes were so dry, they felt like sandpaper every time she blinked. That alone wouldn’t bother her, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt this…woozy. Ever since departing for Italy—no, in all fairness, her inability to sleep peacefully had started after the binding ceremony—she hadn’t managed more than four or five hours of genuine, having-a-fucking-dream deep sleep.
“Food,” she said, as if single words described all her exhausted, cavewoman needs in one breath. “Coffee.”
Oscar scowled, but Langston—God bless him—took one look at her and relented. He seemed less affected by their lack of sleep, but she could only assume that was because it was his place that had been trashed.
She needed to have a difficult conversation with Langston, and she wanted to do that after they were all sitting down and had something to eat and drink.
She hitched her purse on her shoulder, glad she’d stopped to grab it as they raced out of the house. She had her tablet with her and all her contacts. She might be able to smooth the way for what was about to happen.
“Come on. Junction Kitchen will be open by the time we get there. You’ll like their food,” Langston said, heading through the barn doors.
“You’re driving all the way into Charleston?” Oscar asked, aghast.
“There’s no food here, bro,” Langston explained. “And I know you’ve got fuck-all in your kitchen. Come on. My treat,” he prodded.
An hour later, the four of them collapsed in a booth, her and Rich on one side, the brothers next to each other on the other. Oscar looked at them suspiciously, but without the irritation and aggression of last night.
Frankly, Mina was too tired to care.
A cup of coffee and a
glass of water later, she was starting to feel more like herself. Rich was on his phone, and she thought he was working until she looked over to see he was reading a blog about new-release tabletop board games.
Oscar and Langston were speaking quietly, apparently redesigning the security system. There was a mention of “modified land mines” and “flamethrowers.”
Mina cleared her throat, drawing their attention. “As an officer of the court, I’d like to remind you that, even on private property, those types of home defense measures are illegal.”
“Not if we hide the body,” Oscar grumped.
“Especially if you hide the body. But, this brings up another point. You have video of the intruder, correct?”
“Masked, gloved,” Oscar growled. “That’s why if we had a flamethrower—”
Mina held up a hand. “It’s time to be serious. Langston, you have controlled substances in your lab, correct?”
“Drugs? No.” Langston shifted in his seat.
She narrowed her eyes. “You know I’m not talking about drugs. Explosives, bomb-making equipment.”
“Yes,” Langston answered reluctantly.
“You need to report the break-in to the authorities.”
“Nothing was taken,” Langston said immediately.
“And you’re willing to bet people’s lives on that?”
“He told you nothing was taken,” Oscar said.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Langston snapped. “Mina, seriously, nothing was taken.”
“From you. But what if the person who broke into your place finds someone else to rob from? Someone who doesn’t have a…what was it? High-sonic-decibel alarm?”
From what had been discussed, it was clear the intruder had been forced to rush because one of the security measures was a deafening high-frequency alarm that could, apparently, make someone’s ears bleed if they listened to it for too long.
“If you report the break-in to the authorities, they can alert other businesses and facilities in the area. Doing that might prevent someone from acquiring what they need to make a bomb.”
Oscar put his head in his hands. “If we call them, they’ll come out and search our place.”
“Your privacy is worth more than lives?” Rich asked coldly.
“Oh, and you’d let the FBI into your private R&D areas on the off chance it might stop some theoretical crime?” Oscar snapped.
Rich closed his mouth.
“Yeah. I didn’t think so,” Oscar mumbled.
Mina wasn’t appeased. “We have to assume the worst-case scenario and alert, if not the local authorities, then the state police or the local branch of the FBI.”
“Fat chance,” Oscar yelped.
“Langston, it’s a safe bet that whoever broke into your facility was looking for either bomb-making supplies they knew you have or tech they know you’ve developed.”
“Corporate espionage,” Rich said. “Crap.”
Langston put his head in his hands, mirroring Oscar’s pose. They were so similar, yet different.
“I need to tell the people I’m freelancing for,” Langston murmured. “Shit.”
The waitress appeared to take their order. None of them had spared the menu a second glance, so they simply ordered on the fly when Langston and Oscar—who’d both been there before—rattled off their choices.
Oscar had gone for biscuits and gravy while Langston ordered the buzzed doughnut—which sounded like the last thing he needed. He was already too frustrated, hyped-up, on edge.
Rich scanned the menu, then shrugged one shoulder as he asked for “the boring,” which consisted of two eggs, bacon, and toast. Mina actually considered going for Langston’s buzzed doughnut. She needed a jolt of something stronger than the damn coffee. In the end, she just asked for French toast.
They were silent as they ate, but it was clear from the dark looks Oscar kept shooting in her direction, he wasn’t finished arguing about calling in the authorities.
Mina found herself slightly unnerved in Oscar’s presence. The men were truly identical, and it was fucking with her tired brain. Her fatigue had her struggling to distinguish between them. Which sure as hell wouldn’t have been an issue if she’d had some sleep. Langston and Oscar—their physical features notwithstanding—were as different as night and day.
Mina wiped her fingers on her napkin. The toast had been well-sugared and she felt a tad syrupy. When the napkin didn’t do it, she reached under the table for her purse and stood. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
“You okay?” Rich asked.
“I’m just going to the bathroom. I’ll be fine.”
Mina wound her way through the tables to the restroom. She washed her hands, grateful to rid them of the stickiness, and looked at herself in the mirror.
Ugh.
She dug in her big purse, which was an uncharacteristic mess since she’d been using it as a travel carry-on, too. She shoved her phone into the front pocket of her hoodie to get it out of the way, then set her tablet and sunglasses case on the counter before finally finding the makeup bag.
A coat of BB cream, some pale-gold stick eye shadow, eyebrow pencil, and mascara made her look more human and less like an exhausted zombie. She tied her hair back in a low bun, pulled a few tendrils free at her temples and above her ears. It was silly to be primping like this. She wasn’t going to fool them—they’d been staring at her tired, makeup-less face for hours.
The door opened as she applied a liquid matte lipstick.
The man who’d opened the door stared at her for a moment in apparent consternation. He was wearing a hoodie that shadowed his face, and his hands were tucked into the pockets.
Mina raised a brow. “Wrong room,” she said, thinking he’d failed to see the sign that clearly marked this the ladies’ room.
His head dipped as he looked at the purse on the counter, and then he rapidly backed out. She smirked as he beat a hasty retreat. Apparently, she wasn’t the only exhausted person in the restaurant.
She shoved her stuff back into her purse, then slid into one of the stalls and hung it on the hook, pulling down the yoga pants she’d put on as they’d raced out of the house after Oscar’s call.
The door to the restroom opened, the sound barely noticed as she considered who would be the best person to contact with regards to the break-in. She was fairly certain Oscar had some illegal items, given the way he’d objected, so he’d have to move those before the authorities arrived, and without letting anyone else see where or what, so they couldn’t be compelled to testify against him.
A hand reached over her stall door.
Mina sat up in surprise, staring at the black-gloved hand as it groped at the inside of the stall door.
“Excuse me?!” she exclaimed.
The hand grabbed her purse strap, yanking the bag up and over the door.
For a split second, she was too shocked to do anything. The sound of pounding steps and then the bathroom door opening jolted her to action. She sprang to her feet, wiggling her pants up over her butt. Why was it so damned hard to pull up yoga pants?
She slammed the door open and raced out. The bathrooms were off a hall at the back of the restaurant. There were several other doors—the men’s room, a room marked staff, and at the far end of the hall, a door that said “emergency exit only.”
She started to race toward the exit, reminded herself she wasn’t the idiot heroine in a horror movie, and reversed course. She staggered to a stop at the far end of the dining room and raised her voice. “Someone just stole my purse out of the bathroom! I think they went out the back. I’m going after them!”
Every head in the place turned to her. There was a beat of shocked silence, and then Rich, Langston, and even Oscar sprang into action. Rich plowed between the tables toward her while both Oscar and Langston raced for the front door.
She ran back down the hall, waiting until Rich was within arm’s reach before throwing the door open. She tumbled out into a
n alley behind the restaurant, dumpsters on either side of the door. To the right, the alley led to the parking lot, and to the left, it led onto the small side street, and then onto Leesville Street.
“What did he look like?” Rich demanded.
“I didn’t see him. I was in a stall. He reached over and stole my bag.”
Oscar and Langston appeared at opposite ends of the alley, having apparently circled around the building. They skidded to a stop when they reached her.
“See anything?” Rich asked.
“No.” Langston cursed.
Oscar was frowning. “It would be easy to disappear.”
“I’ll call the police.” Rich reached for his phone.
Mina’s heart was still pounding, and she was fighting a sense of did-that-just-happen.
“Wait, wait.” She held up her hands and closed her eyes, thinking.
“Oh, now look who’s saying don’t call the cops,” Oscar snarked.
“Shut up, dipshit,” Langston shot back.
“My tablet,” she hissed. “The guy I’d thought came into the wrong door.”
“Mina, what are you talking about?” Langston asked.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” A man who she thought might be the restaurant manager appeared through the back door.
“Her purse was stolen,” Rich said. “Do you have security cameras?”
“We do. And I called the police. Do you want to wait inside?”
Mina nodded, brain whirling.
They went back to their booth, and Mina pulled her phone out of her hoodie, glad she’d managed to keep that. The panicked-looking manager sent over a few doughnuts with maple glaze while they waited for the cops.
“Mina, what were you talking about in the alley? What man who came to the door?”
Quickly, she told them about the hooded man she’d thought had opened the wrong bathroom door.
“My tablet was on the counter,” she said quietly. “He saw it there.”
“And you think he waited for you to go pee and then stole it?” Oscar asked. “That’s a lot of risk for a tablet.”
“True, if all he was after was a tablet.”
“Instead of?” Langston asked.