Her Three Protectors [The Hot Millionaires #3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Zara Chase

“Anything unusual?” Troy asked.

  “Other than the noise you two were making. Oh, Troy, fuck me harder.” For once, Beck wasn’t laughing. “What’s going on, Troy, apart from the obvious?”

  “We’ll find out when Porcha joins us. All I can tell you is that her husband’s apparently dead.”

  “Dead?” Adam joined them. “When?”

  “We didn’t get to talk about it.”

  “Yeah, we know.” Adam rolled his eyes. “We heard your conversation all over the apartment.”

  Troy spread his hands. “What can I say?”

  “Probably better to keep it shut,” Adam advised.

  “Will she play with us all?” Beck asked.

  “I think so.” He nodded to the door he’d just come through. Porcha stood there fully dressed, her hair damp from the shower. “We’re about to find out.”

  “We need caffeine first.” Adam, the self-appointed gourmet of the group, headed for the kitchen.

  “Morning, Porcha,” Beck said amiably. “Sleep well?”

  She smiled radiantly at Beck. “Eventually, when the boss man let me.”

  “Hey who made Troy the boss?” Beck complained.

  “Well, all I can say is that he sure behaved like a leader.”

  “He does that,” Adam said from the kitchen. “We let him get away with it because we don’t like to disillusion him.”

  Troy wondered if the other two were as astonished by the transformation in Porcha as he was. Gone was the beaten, exhausted, and terrified woman of yesterday. In her place was a sassy, kick-ass ball of energy, hungry for action and—if he read her body language right—ready to fight back. If that’s what a few hours’ sleep and a good shag did for her, then sex ought to be a prescription drug.

  They all drifted into the kitchen, lured there by the smell of fresh coffee brewing.

  “There’s not much to eat,” Adam complained. “Just toast.”

  “We only kept long-term supplies here,” Porcha said. “Sorry, guys. Didn’t exactly have time to stop off at the supermarket on the way.”

  “No problem,” Beck said. “We’ve survived on a lot worse.”

  “Is that man still outside?” Porcha asked, buttering her second slice of toast and lathering it with a healthy dollop of marmalade.

  “Yep.”

  The knowledge didn’t appear to put her off her breakfast. “Why hasn’t he tried to get in here?”

  “Because he knows we’re here,” Troy told her. “He probably thinks we’re employees of your late husband. They’ll be waiting for us to go or for you to emerge outside. Either way, they’ll move today, so we have to get out of here before they do.”

  “Unless we wanna hang about and find out who sent them,” Adam remarked.

  “I rather supposed Porcha would know that.”

  “Where will we go?” she asked, ducking the question.

  Troy lifted a strand of her drying hair and smiled at her. “What happened? How did your husband die?”

  Porcha licked her fingers clean of butter smears and sighed. So did all three men, struck by the guileless sensuality of the gesture. “We first met—”

  “We’ll get the life story later. Just cut to the relevant bits for now.”

  “Okay. He worked out of Miami. He had legitimate business premises there. Import, export.”

  Adam curled his lip. “Yeah, and we know what he was importing.”

  “We lived up the coast in Jupiter. Big house, high perimeter wall, electric gates, guards everywhere. I couldn’t go out without at least two men on me. Sal was petrified that I’d get kidnapped by his enemies.” She inhaled deeply, obviously getting to the business end of her story, but only hesitated fractionally. “About a month ago, Sal went to Mexico on business.”

  Troy elevated a brow. “You didn’t go with him? I’d have thought, if he was so possessive—”

  “Usually I did, yes. He hardly ever left me on my own, but this time he went with just a couple of his lieutenants. I’m not sure what was going on, but I’m pretty sure it was something big.”

  “A large consignment?” Beck suggested.

  “Possibly, but Sal had moved away from drugs, thank God. He promised me faithfully that he would.” She paused, looking at each of them in turn. “He’d got into smuggling precious stones instead.”

  “Fucking hell!” Adam scratched his thigh. “Bit of a departure, wasn’t it?”

  Porcha shook her head. “Not really. Everyone associates Sal’s name with drugs, but he’d become more of a facilitator. A middleman who found buyers for certain commodities, and the other way round.”

  “That why he went to Mexico, do you think?”

  “He’d gone to finalise the off-loading of his drugs business. He was selling up to one of his rivals.”

  “He kept his promise to you,” Beck said.

  “Yeah, sort of.” She grimaced. “Anyway, about two weeks ago, he was still away, and I’d been out shopping. I had my two regular guys with me. I didn’t dare to go out without them, even when Sal wasn’t there. He’d know, he always knew everything I did, and I’d have paid a heavy price for defying his orders. Besides, if the guys let me go against him, they’d be in for it as well.”

  “A gilded cage,” Beck muttered.

  “Anyway, we drove up to the house, and before we even got there, I sensed something was wrong. The gates were hanging open, and I could see men with guns swarming all over the grounds. My driver simply turned the car round and hit the gas. ‘No way are we taking you in there, Mrs. G.,’ was what Kevin said.”

  “What did you do instead?” Troy asked.

  “We went to a downtown hotel in Fort Lauderdale, and I tried to ring Sal but got no response. I was trying to decide what to do next when an e-mail came through on my iPhone, from Sal’s e-mail address.”

  “Saying?” Troy prompted when her words stalled.

  “Nothing.” She shuddered. “It was just an attachment with a picture of Sal’s dead body.”

  The guys shared a glance. “I know this sounds like a dumb question, but are you sure he’s actually dead?”

  Porcha reached for her iPad and pulled up the e-mail in question. “See for yourselves.”

  The three of them crowded round the screen, staring directly at a picture of a man in his fifties with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, who might or might not have been Sal Gonzalez. Troy had only ever seen pictures of the guy, so he wouldn’t know, but presumably, his wife would. He was naked, lying in a pool of blood, staring through sightless eyes at the camera.

  “Well, he looks dead.” Beck placed a gentle hand on Porcha’s shoulder. The joker of the pack could be surprisingly sensitive at times.

  “But you’re not running because he’s dead?” Troy guessed.

  “No.” Porcha rolled her shoulders, as though relieving them of a heavy weight. “Not long after that came through, I got another e-mail. It was anonymous, but it said Sal had told them before he died that I knew where the shipment was and I had three days to get it to them. They would be in touch.”

  “What shipment?” three male voices asked at the same time.

  Porcha lifted her shoulders. “I have absolutely no idea. Sal never discussed business with me, nor would he have told them that.”

  “Even if he was tortured?” Troy asked gently.

  “Well, I’d like to think not, but—”

  “What did you do?”

  Adam’s question saved her from formulating a more thorough answer.

  “I checked into that hotel, shopped for a few clothes, and took the precaution of visiting a safe deposit box we had in a Fort Lauderdale bank. Sal kept a load of cash there in case of emergencies, and I figured this qualified as an emergency.” She sighed. “Three days later there was still no word from Sal, so I had to accept that he really was dead. I was still too scared to go home and thought I was safe in the hotel. I booked a suite with two bedrooms, and my two guys stayed with me.”

  “Did they try
their luck?” Beck asked, scowling.

  Porcha shook her head. “They knew better than that.”

  “Okay, babe, carry on,” Troy invited.

  “Two thugs turned up on the third day, knocking on the door like they were expected. When Kevin opened it, they barged past him as though he was a scrawny nobody, and Kevin, you ought to know, is built like you guys.”

  “What were they like?”

  “South American, big, menacing, wearing dark glasses.” She shrugged. “I was too stunned by their appearance to take much notice.”

  “Presumably, they wanted this mysterious shipment.”

  “Yep, but I played dumb, said I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about.”

  “You must have been petrified,” Adam said, gently touching her arm.

  “I was but tried not to show it. I figured that they’d searched the house for whatever it was that was missing, and if it wasn’t there, they needed me in one piece to get it for them. In that case, as long as I played for time, I wasn’t going to die. I managed to establish it was diamonds they were after and said I thought I knew where they might be. I said to give me twenty-four hours.”

  “And then you ran,” Beck surmised. “Sensible girl!”

  “I didn’t run because I didn’t know where the diamonds are—”

  “You ran because you didn’t know how the guys could have found you, unless one of your bodyguards gave you up,” Troy finished for her.

  “Precisely.”

  Beck shook his head. “No wonder you didn’t trust us.”

  “You could have been followed when you fled from the house.”

  “Kevin says we weren’t, but if he was the grass—”

  “They could have traced you other ways.”

  “I kept my cell phone off, didn’t use credit cards.”

  Troy quirked a brow. “He trained you well.”

  “We kept this apartment here in Tampa as an emergency bolt hole. Sal thought no one would think to look for us on this side of the state. No one, not even our most-trusted guards, knew about it, so how that man outside got onto me is a mystery.”

  “Someone always knows about these things. Realtors, lawyers.” Adam spread his hands. “And money talks.”

  “Yeah, well, I had a time of it getting here. I couldn’t rent a car or hop on a plane to anywhere without using a credit card, so I had to try and disguise myself and ride buses.”

  “We need to get you out of here,” Troy said. “Those guys won’t hang about outside for much longer. Pack a small bag.”

  “How will we get past him?”

  Troy got up and peered round the blinds. “It’s Florida, it’s the weekend, and that’s a park over there.” He grinned at Porcha. “Go pack that bag.”

  She returned a few minutes later. “Do I need the wig?”

  “No, just a ball cap and shades oughta do it.”

  “That I can manage.” She produced a cap, squished her hair beneath it, and put on glasses that covered half her face. “Just like a million other women in Florida.”

  “Not quite.” Adam’s gaze lingered on her breasts.

  “Can I have my gun back?”

  “Only if you promise to shoot Troy this time.”

  * * * *

  Beck produced the S&W, watching her as she stuffed it in her purse.

  “Okay, Beck,” Troy said. “Let’s lose our friend outside.”

  Grinning, Beck pulled a phone from his pocket and dialled 911.

  “Oh, hello,” he said. “I’m with my daughter in a downtown park.” He gave the address. “There’s this odd-looking man hanging round. I’ve seen him talk to a couple of the kids. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, but I thought I ought to report it. You hear such terrible things nowadays.”

  Beck hung up without giving his name. “Two minutes, I reckon. Get ready.”

  “Go bring the truck to the front door,” Troy said to Beck.

  Sure enough, a squad car pulled up within Beck’s two-minute estimate, and two officers descended on the watcher.

  “Go!”

  Troy led the charge down the stairs, toting Porcha’s bag like it weighed nothing at all.

  “Don’t you guys believe in elevators?”

  “Nope. There’s no place to run in an elevator if things get awkward.”

  They burst out the front door, Adam and Troy shielding Porcha as they crossed the sidewalk and piled into a Dodge truck idling at the curb. As soon as the door closed behind them, Beck moved away in an unhurried fashion that didn’t draw attention to them.

  “Where are we going?” Porcha asked, her head resting in Adam’s lap in the back of the cab so that she wasn’t visible to anyone else who might be watching them.

  “To our love pad,” Adam told her, pulling the cap from her head and spreading her hair all over his thigh.

  “Sorry I asked.”

  “Seriously, darlin’, we’re going to St. Pete Beach. Us gentlemen have a town house there that’s more secure than Fort Knox. No one will look for you there because they don’t know you’re with us.”

  “I really do need a passport.” She addressed the words to Adam’s muscled thigh, trying to ignore the intriguing bulge in his pants.

  “Where’s yours?” Troy asked.

  “At the Jupiter house, but I don’t feel inclined to pop back for it.”

  “And if we get you one, what then?” Troy turned from the passenger seat and pinioned her with a look she found hard to interpret.

  “I’ll go back to England, of course.”

  Troy shook his head. “Baby, you think the people who have the power to get to one of the best-protected racketeers in the country won’t be able to get to you there?”

  She slumped against Adam’s legs. “I guess.”

  “You can sit up now,” Troy told her.

  “Please don’t,” Adam wailed.

  Laughing, Porcha levered herself upright. “What would you suggest that I do instead?”

  Beck raised his hand. “Can I answer that one?”

  “Beck,” Adam growled.

  “How about trying to find out who’s chasing you and why they think you know where the stones are?”

  Porcha quirked a brow. “Just like that?”

  “Why not?” Troy grinned at her. “Nothing like going on the offensive if you wanna rattle a few cages.”

  “Yes, but where to start?”

  “Presumably, you still have numbers for the two guys who protected you?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know which one—”

  “Call them both when we get to the house. If one of them is in on it, he’ll pick up. If they both do, we’ll deal with that, too.”

  “Okay.”

  Beck turned off the interstate. A short time later, he pressed a button on the dash, and the door to a subterranean garage beneath a tall waterside town house slid up.

  “Welcome to our humble abode,” Adam said, opening the door and helping Porcha out of the cab.

  “You guys live here together?”

  Beck waggled his brows. “And play.”

  “When we’re not on assignment,” Adam told her, leading the way up the stairs to a solid-looking door.

  “Do you always go on assignment together?”

  “A lot of the time, but not always.” Adam grinned. “We both need a break from Beck every so often.”

  Beck glowered at his buddies. “I love you guys, too.”

  Adam unlocked, stood back, and allowed her to pass in front of him into a surprisingly large living area. She sensed Troy behind her as she gazed through picture windows to the intercoastal waterway immediately beyond a small yard with a boat dock. There was a fast-looking open-cockpit boat secured to it.

  “Just to put you at your ease,” he said, massaging her shoulders with rhythmic swirls of his large hands, “the only way into this house is through the garage or front door. Both are solid steel, and an alarm sounds if anyone so much as breathes on them the wrong way. Th
e windows are triple glazed and bulletproof. They’re also tinted, so you can see out but no one can see in.”

  “You must have pissed off some real bad-ass dudes,” she said, feeling a little awestruck.

  Adam grimaced. “Baby, you have no idea.”

  “It’s easier to police than your big estate in Jupiter, plus we have the added advantage of being able to get out by water if necessary.” Troy took her hand. “Come on, I’ll show you round.”

  “Everywhere?” asked Adam and Beck together.

  “I think she can take it.”

  “Then there’s no way in hell she goes up there without us,” Adam said.

  “Go where?”

  “You’ll see.” Beck took her other hand. “Come on.”

  The tour of the floor they were on didn’t take long. A large open-plan living room and gourmet kitchen, full of state-of-the-art equipment, was all there was to see. The study was also equipped with the latest cyber gadgets. There was a half bath and an open-slat staircase leading to an entrance hall at the same level as the garage.

  On the first floor, there were four bedrooms, all with their own facilities.

  “This one’s for you,” Troy told her, dumping her bag on the bed in a pleasant room painted a pale shade of blue.

  “Thanks.” She turned to face her three eager protectors. “What is it you’re not telling me?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Come on,” Troy said. “There’s more.”

  Another flight of stairs led to the loft. Porcha stepped inside and gasped. The entire floor was the guys’ playroom. An enormous circular bed, easily able to accommodate four people, dominated the centre of the space. The walls were covered with paraphernalia that pegged them as doms. Porcha recognized most of it and guessed the guys could tell she was excited by what she saw.

  Troy sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her down on his lap. The other two sat either side of him.

  “Your choice, babe,” he said softly, nuzzling her neck. “But you play with one of us, you get us all.”

  “Three for the price of one,” Beck joked. “How bad can that be?”

  Adam ran a hand softly over her thigh. “You’ll have to submit to us, you do know that?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Sal didn’t treat you well, did he?” Troy asked. “And now you’re hesitating. You enjoyed it at first, I think, but something happened.”